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‘No.’ Alex shook his head emphatically. ‘He was very protective of you and I was—’
‘So much more experienced,’ she finished unevenly.
‘That’s a polite way of putting it.’
She searched for a way to explain. ‘That night, I was just so—sad...’ Her lips twisted into a bitter frown. ‘I wasn’t thinking straight—’
‘But I was,’ he interrupted urgently. ‘Or I should have been. I should have known better.’
‘You were very clear that night,’ she said, ice now running through her veins. ‘You regretted it. You wished it hadn’t happened.’
‘Yes. For many years, I have felt that,’ he admitted, dipping his head in silent agreement. ‘But now, knowing that you went from my bed to his, I wish...’
Everything in her body ground to a halt as she stared at him, willing him to finish the sentence. ‘Yes?’ she said, when only the sound of water splashing filled her ears.
‘I shouldn’t have let that happen,’ he muttered. ‘I should have taken care of you...’
Her heart stretched almost to breaking point. On the one hand, she wanted to point out she was a woman of the twenty-first century, capable and in control. On the other, she wanted to push forward into his arms and rest her head on his shoulder and allow herself, just for a moment, to be cared for, as he’d said.
‘Stavros would have wanted me to take better care of you.’
Her insides felt as though they were being compressed. She couldn’t make sense of how she was feeling—a thousand different things at once now. ‘I don’t need rescuing,’ she muttered on autopilot, because that felt familiar and important to tell him. ‘I made my own choices, my own bed, and I lay in it for as long as I could manage. Jonathan was my mistake, and my problem to fix.’
‘And our marriage is your solution,’ he said quietly, scanning her face, a hint of disbelief in his question that frustrated her completely.
‘It’s certainly changed the story,’ she said with a shrug, wondering at the flicker of something in the depths of his eyes. The news outlets had all printed photos of their wedding, the carefully selected images they’d released to announce their union.
‘I’m glad.’ Their eyes were locked, a strange tension buzzing between them, myriad thoughts and feelings unspoken, so despite the stillness of the afternoon, the water felt choppy.
‘I would never have got involved with you back then,’ she muttered, wishing that were true, pulling away from him, moving deeper into the ocean until she had to tread water to stay afloat. He stayed where he was a moment, a perfect bronzed god, his eyes watchful, his body still, and then he moved to follow her, his arms bringing him through the water with ease, until he was just a few feet away from her. He could stand easily, though.
‘No?’
‘You were too much what my parents wanted.’ And despite the strange air of discord between them, a small smile twisted her lips.
‘You have never seemed like the rebellious type, Theresa.’
‘No,’ she agreed, frowning. ‘I’m not. Never. Except in that one way. Jonathan was my single act of defiance.’ She tilted her chin. ‘After Stavros died, I tried so hard to be everything I thought my parents needed me to be. I was terrified of putting a foot wrong, of failing to live up to who he’d been.’ She bit down on her lip. ‘But the way they tried to push me into a marriage with you...’ She shook her head. ‘It was too much. You were his best friend; you were, in my mind, his, not mine.’
‘Even after we slept together?’
‘Especially then,’ she agreed, shivering as she remembered the way she’d been pushed away, the rejection Alex had put her through. ‘If anything, that made me more determined to find my own way. I met Jonathan a week after we slept together, and a month after that he proposed.’
He nodded slowly, his eyes gently probing hers. ‘I remember.’
Her heart gave a funny little stammer. ‘You do?’
He lifted his shoulders. ‘Call it male ego,’ he said with a strange, throaty laugh. ‘I didn’t love how quickly you moved on, even when I felt guilty as hell for what we’d done.’
‘You didn’t exactly make me think you’d be interested in a repeat performance.’
‘It wasn’t possible.’
She flicked her gaze away, hating how easily he could hurt her, hating how much that night had pulled at her. She’d loved him. A childish crush had probably always been so much more, and that night they’d been drawn together by forces greater than either one of them. At least, that was how it had felt to Tessa.
‘I meant nothing to you,’ she said quietly. ‘You can hardly have been surprised when I started dating someone else.’
‘And did I mean something to you?’ he pushed, picking up on her carefully worded explanation.
