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‘Oh,’ she chased an airplane across the sky with her eyes, ‘I guess so.’
‘Because it was so tense between the two of you?’
‘Yeah.’ There was no real need to elaborate on that. She sighed softly. ‘Let’s not talk about Jonathan, Alex. I don’t want him in my life any more, and I sure as hell don’t want him in our marriage. He’s not relevant.’
She could tell, from the look in his eyes, that he didn’t believe her.
Epíneiomeant haven, and as his yacht drew closer to a small pontoon Tessa couldn’t help thinking how apt the name was. Even from the deck of the boat, she could see the calming quality of the place. Tall white cliffs tufted with dark green grass and spiky trees gradually lowered to form a white sand beach with a thick wall of overgrown trees, creating the impression of nature run amok, and through the busy, ancient trunks she caught fleeting glimpses of a home—too fleeting to see much detail, so curiosity and anticipation filled her belly.
It was more than the scenery though. There was something exquisitely transient about the light, and again her fingers craved the familiar grip of a paintbrush, her artist’s mind analysing the textures and shapes, the colours, imagining exactly how she could capture this natural palette.
As the crew brought the boat into the dock, expertly guiding it to the pontoon’s edge, Tessa stood with her elbows propped against the railing, warm breeze lifting her hair, eyes trained on the island. She hadn’t seen Alex for hours. They’d shared coffee that morning, and made some necessary small talk to break up the silence. It was all so...polite. Sitting across from him, she could never have guessed how close they’d come the day before to making love. Except for the way her pulse trembled when his eyes hooked to hers, and heat seemed to be burning her from the inside out.
As the boat achieved its resting position, the crew sprang to life, throwing down ropes and leaping onto the deck, to unfurl a walkway that would make it easier for Tessa and Alex to depart.
Alex appeared almost magically at her side, and the sight of him like this caused her heart to clench. He was wearing a white shirt and knee-length shorts, with glasses tucked into the collar of his shirt and a cap on his head, so Alex was so casual and handsome that her bones turned to puddles and she almost forgot about the distance she needed to keep from him and threw herself into his arms.
Instead, she offered him a small, tight smile. ‘This is very nice.’
Nice? So tepid! She had become used to keeping much of herself screened off, and it hadn’t bothered her. In fact, she’d been grateful to have developed that technique, but for a moment she wanted to crack through that veneer and just be...herself.
‘It’s a good place to come when I need to get away.’
‘And how often is that?’
He put a hand in the small of her back, simply to guide her towards the walkway, but that didn’t matter. He might as well have been cupping her breasts, for the way her central nervous system went into overdrive. ‘Most weekends.’
The narrow width of the gangplank brought their bodies close. She suppressed a shiver. ‘Really? I thought you were out with a different woman every night?’
‘And that bothers you?’
Damn it! She’d walked right into that. ‘Of course not,’ she responded stiffly. ‘I suppose you come here with them, anyway.’
‘No.’ His interruption was sharp. ‘Epíneio is personal. Private.’
A shiver ran down her spine, because he’d brought her here regardless, to his private sanctuary. It didn’t mean anything, but something fluttered inside Tessa’s belly; she felt ridiculously pleased.
From this vantage point, she could see more of the house and it forced a small sigh from her lips, because the building had clearly sat in this very position for a long time. Terracotta walls that had been rendered white were offset by a red-tiled roof. The door was painted a happy blue, and big pots of geraniums stood on either side. Everywhere she looked was a scene she wanted to capture. Excitement bubbled through her blood. During her marriage, she’d struggled with her art. Jonathan’s criticism and her deeply unhappy state had paralysed her, but here, she felt inspiration at every turn.
‘This is beautiful,’ she whispered, the words utterly inadequate for the perfection that surrounded them.
‘What about you, agape?’ he asked with a note of determination.
Her eyes skittered to his and her heart thundered. ‘You don’t have to call me that, you know. No one is around. When it’s just the two of us, we can be ourselves.’
‘Okay, Theresa. Is that better?’
No, it was way worse, because he said her name like a whisper, and it hit her as a warm breeze on a spring afternoon, so she tingled all the way to her soul.
She was mesmerised by him, unable to look away. ‘No one calls me that.’
‘Stavros used to.’
Her stomach tightened. ‘I know.’
‘Whenever he would talk about you, he’d call you Theresa.’
Her lips twisted in an involuntary smile. ‘What sort of things would he say?’
