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‘I know Kristina’s married and everything...’ Leo pressed on. ‘Due to have a baby soon?’
‘Correct,’ Galen nodded. ‘She’s in her third trimester.’
Roula felt a little uncomfortable now—just as she had when they were at school and the boys would tease Galen and he’d never realise until too late that they were...
‘It’s the million-dollar question, really.’ Leo sighed dramatically. ‘Come on, Galen, we’re just dying to know. Were you two ever, or are you still—?’
‘Leo,’ Galen cut in, and his voice was calm but there was the sharp edge of warning. ‘I would never discuss one of my staff’s personal life—not with them, and most certainly not with you.’
‘Ooh!’ Leo beamed as he was duly told off. ‘Well, you can’t blame me for trying to find out.’ Unfazed, he turned his gossipy smile to Roula. ‘How was your day, dear Roula?’
‘Busy!’
‘Do the locals all still think you’re upset over him?’ Leo asked, and gestured with his head towards Costa, who laughed.
‘Some do.’ Roula nodded. ‘You know what they can be like here.’
Leo sighed. ‘This place! Can’t they accept you might just be grieving your husband?’
Galen noted Roula’s brief grim smile and then he looked away.
Five years since her husband had died and yet it was spoken about as if it was a recent event.
Still, time did not move on readily here—and neither did widows... Galen knew very well the rules of this place. Just as hisyayahad, Roula would attend church for all souls on a Saturday, as well as go on Sunday, and then there’d be his annual memorial...
Where, he wondered, did beautiful widows go for relief? And Roula was undeniably beautiful...
It didn’t enter his head that she might not have such requirements, because he so often did. It was necessary. Like food, like water...
Admittedly, he forgot to eat or drink on occasion, as had been outlined tonight by his friends. But after famine came feast...
He considered her options and found there were not many—for there was no chance of her taking a discreet lover in Anapliró that Galen could see.
So where do you go, Roula?
Did she take the ferry to Santorini and meet a lover? Galen was quietly turned on at that thought of her leaving it all behind for a steamy afternoon. Or maybe an occasional stolen sultry Santorini night, before returning to Anapliró as if butter wouldn’t melt...
He liked that thought.
Galen remained seated when the others decided to go around popping balloons—there had apparently been a specification from Costa that there were many.
Roula, it would seem, was not a popping balloons type of person either, for now it was just the two of them at the lavish table, and Roula was fiddling with a plaster on her thumb.
‘Did you enjoy the day?’ Roula asked politely. ‘The beach party...?’ Her voice trailed off as clearly she recalled the internet issues he’d raised. She moved to safer ground. ‘Everyone said the meal was beautiful.’
‘It was a bit too rich for me,’ Galen said.
He was just being honest—his guts had been burning since lunch and usually he had the constitution of an ox. Galen watched her lips, parted ready to jump in and defend her friend Mia, but then she pushed out her work smile.
‘The guest is always right, Roula.’ He was gently provoking her, and with specific intent. ‘Isn’t that so?’
‘Of course,’ Roula responded politely.
Galen waited silently for the real Roula to be revealed—for the fiery person he’d known to fire back a tart retort. Yet it never came.
‘How is Kupia Florakis?’ she asked, about hisyaya. ‘She’s in Athens, yes?’
‘Doing well for ninety.’ He nodded. ‘She misses here.’
