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* * *
I cannot sleep, and yet I don’t think I’ve ever labored as hard as I did today. Well, not since my father had us helping with the harvests at the Home Farm on the Trevethick Estate. I was in my early teens then and had boundless energy.
Now? Not so much.
I didn’t even begrudge the shot of raki I had this evening to ease my aching muscles. Tomorrow morning, I’m going for a run before I do anything else, and I’m grateful I packed my running gear.
Weirdly, it felt good helping my soon-to-be father-in-law. He’s gruff and sullen, and I have no idea what he’s thinking, but he’s decisive, hard-working, and organized. He has a plan, which is a relief because I’m out of my depth here. And at the end of a long day, he’d clapped me on the back and given me the keys to one of his cars—an old Mercedes C Class. Thanas had translated. “For you. When you are here. Your car. You can give the Dacia to your friend. Collect it later. And for now, park it up on the road.”
“Faleminderit,” I’d replied. Thank you in Albanian.
He’d grinned then, and it was the first time I’d seen him smile properly. His acceptance and generosity had lifted my spirits.
Perhaps he’s not so bad.
He’s only doing what he thinks is right for his daughter.
But now I’m finding it hard to sleep. Did I ever imagine I’d get married in a garage? In Albania? Did I ever imagine I’d get married before I was thirty? Thank God my mother doesn’t know. But the thought does bring a wry smile to my face… if she knew, she’d flip.
Alessia and her mother went shopping with Tom. I was forbidden to go as they were buying The Dress. I’d just handed her my credit card and winked. And she’d accepted it with a quick word of thanks and a kiss on the cheek.
They returned triumphant, and Tom was quite enamored of my wife-to-be.
“She’s a gem, Trevethick. I get it,” he’d said when he joined us in our quest to clear the garage.
Alessia and her mother spent most of the afternoon cleaning. By this evening, the entire place was spotless. She must be exhausted, and I hope she’s sleeping soundly and dreaming of me. When all this is over, and after all this hard work, we’re going to need a holiday.
A honeymoon.
I could take Alessia somewhere beautiful. The Caribbean, maybe. We could sit on a quiet beach beneath swaying palms, drink cocktails and read books and make love beneath the stars. My body stirs at the thought.
Fuck. I was in Cuba and then Bequia at Christmas with my brother and Caroline, his wife.
That seems like yesterday.
It was only eight weeks ago.
Hell.
So much has happened since then.
Earlier this evening, I spoke with Oliver. As well as updating me on estate business, he’s arranged for us to collect a visa for Alessia from the British embassy in Tirana. It’s been expedited by the ambassador himself—because he knew my father—so at least Alessia will be able to come to the UK as a visitor until we can get her settled status or a spousal visa. The embassy will also organize a notary to apostille our marriage certificate, which makes everything official.
I’ll be meeting a lawyer that Rajah has recommended on our return to London. He’s warned me that we have much more work to do before Alessia can stay in the UK.
The door creaks open, startling me, and Alessia creeps inside, wearing her ridiculous nightgown and carrying the little nightlight. My heart rate jumps.
She’s here. My girl.
I grin into the darkness as she makes her way toward the bed.
“Hello,” I whisper in the dark, my joy ringing out loud in my greeting. I draw back the covers for her to join me.
“Hi,” she replies, and she sounds a little hoarse.
“You okay?”
In the glow of the little dragon, she nods once, places him on the bedside table, and climbs into bed beside me. I kiss her cheek, then wrap her in my arms and hold her close as she rests her head on my chest.
“I couldn’t sleep. And I am so tired,” she mutters.
“Me too. You can sleep now.” I kiss her hair, inhale her fragrance, and shut my eyes. This is where she should be… with me.
Forever.
I drift.
* * *
Alessia closes her eyes in the arms of the man she loves. This is where she belongs. Being here, in his embrace, feels like home. She doesn’t care if her father or mother catches her; she and Maxim are only sleeping. She sighs as her mind finally quiets, and she falls into a dreamless sleep.
* * *
It’s early afternoon on Friday, and I can’t stop checking my watch. Joe is due here around 3:20 p.m. Tom, who has done more than his fair share of driving over the last few days, has collected him from Tirana International Airport. Joe has texted me that they’re on their way and he has a surprise for me.
