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‘Don’t.’ His voice rumbled towards her. ‘Don’t apologise. Your love was a gift. That you wanted to share that with me will always be meaningful.’ He paused, drawing in a deep breath so his chest lifted and fell. ‘I haven’t been honest with you, agape.’
She flinched at the term of endearment.
‘Do you remember the art show you had in Florence? Around your twenty-first birthday.’
Of course she did. It was only her second show, the first having garnered so much praise she’d been given a huge venue just down a lane from the Uffizi, at one of the most prestigious private galleries in Europe. ‘What about it?’
‘Stav was so proud of you. He spoke of nothing else for days.’ He angled his face away, staring at the wall. ‘I said nothing to him. Nothing that would lead him to think I’d been thinking about it, and you. Nothing to make him wonder.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘And then, I went to the gallery. I flew there especially, telling myself I was simply curious, that my interest was natural. But why didn’t I tell Stav? Why didn’t I go with him?’ His voice was laced with self-condemnation. ‘On some level, I knew that my feelings were wrong. They were so much deeper than I could ever admit to. I went, I saw, I was blown away by your talent, and then I left, and told no one.’ His eyes bored into hers with fierce intensity. ‘You are so clever. Gifted. And then you stopped.’
She turned away from him, his words chewing through her resolve and causing hope to flicker to life—but hadn’t she told herself hope was a wasted force?
‘I was terrified,’ he admitted gruffly, his words spoken to her back. ‘I have been so determined to avoid love, all my life, and very specifically to avoid loving you. For as long as I’ve known you, there’s been something between us, something I’ve fought to resist.’ She closed her eyes on a wave of pain. ‘To have you offer it to me so bravely, so beautifully, even after what I’ve put you through, was overwhelming. On so many levels, this is wrong—I have told myself this is wrong, that I couldn’t have you.’
She let out a small cry of hopelessness, for the pain he’d put them both through.
‘I wanted to avoid hurting you, with all that I am. I wanted to avoid hurting you as my father hurt my mother, and then I had to watch you disappear from me, fade away into nothing, your face pale, your eyes haunted, and I have known it is my fault. Everything I dreaded most came to pass regardless of how I tried to avoid it.’ He dropped his head forward, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘I was so angry at myself, Theresa. Whenever I replayed that conversation and heard what I said to you, I wanted to shake myself. Why couldn’t I admit to you that I was scared of the love you were offering?’
She made a gargling sound, moving now to the sofa and sitting down. The support was a godsend. ‘I knew you felt that. You didn’t need to say anything.’
He crossed to her and knelt at her feet, just as he’d done in her studio. ‘But since then I have felt a thousand things, and none of them made any sense until today. I could not understand why my chest was hurting and my mind was singularly obsessed with you—where you were, what you were doing, how you were feeling. Memories of Epíneio, of your smile, your laugh, of being here together, tormented me at all hours of the day and still I didn’t understand. I knew only that I’d had something special and lost it. That I’d lost you. Suddenly, I was going through the motions of life without feeling that I was actually living.’
Her eyes stayed on her knees; it was impossible to look at him.
‘And then today, when your friend called and told me you’d passed out, I had no idea what had happened, or how serious it was. But in that moment I would have struck any bargain with any god for you to be okay. I couldn’t face the prospect of living without you, agape, because no matter how hard I have tried to fight it, I love you, as absolutely as the stars are a part of the sky, I love you. Is it possible I always have?’
She made an uneven sound as the words burst around them, and she lifted a hand to his shoulder. She wanted to feel euphoria, but doubts plagued her. ‘Please don’t feel you have to say this. I really am okay, Alex. I’m not dying. I’m not even sick. I’ve just been pushing myself a bit too hard. If this is guilt or some weird sense of responsibility talking, then shelve it. I’ll be fine.’ She jutted her chin defiantly, desperately needing him to understand. ‘I’m not your mother, and you’re not your father.’
‘No. We’re our own people, with our own lives to lead. I get that now. There is no one kind of marriage, no one kind of love.’ He leaned closer, his thumb catching her hair and pushing it behind one ear. ‘And I know you will be fine, my darling, but I won’t be. I have been miserable since that night, and only today have I properly understood the reason.’ His eyes scanned hers, truth in his face. ‘I love you. Just as you said, this is not a sudden love, it is a love I think I have felt for a long time. The night of the funeral, when we came together, it wasn’t just grief. It was because I needed to make love to you, the only person on earth who had the power to make me feel better—the person who has been, for a long time, my other half.’
Her eyes parted. ‘The way you reacted—’
‘I was terrified,’ he said quietly. ‘When I was with you, I felt whole. I felt better. Like the best version of myself. One night with you and I felt everything I’d always believed torn away from me, violently, and I wasn’t ready.’
She shook her head, eyes sweeping shut. ‘You were so final.’
He paused, obviously weighing up his next words with care.
‘There’s something else, something I should have told you sooner.’
She held her breath, bracing herself for whatever was coming next.
‘Your brother was very protective of you.’
She expelled a cross sigh. ‘We’ve discussed that.’
But Alex continued as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘He knew you had a crush on me, and if he caught me so much as looking in your direction he would warn me away. He would joke about it, but we both knew he meant every word. I was older, too experienced, not right for you. To have slept with you right after we buried him...can you understand how I felt? I was so ashamed of myself, so angry that I’d betrayed Stavros in that way, and I lashed out. It was wrong, and it was far from an accurate representation of my feelings. I pushed you away, but not because I didn’t care about you. That was never why.’
Her eyes sparkled with tears.
‘I love you,’ he added, simply, when all more grandiose forms of expression seemed unnecessary. ‘And I am going to keep you here until you understand that.’
She laughed. ‘I think I understand already,’ she blinked her lashes, ‘but I’m happy to pretend I don’t, just for tonight.’
‘A few nights,’ he bartered, then, before she could demur, he lifted a finger to her lips, silencing her. ‘At least.’
