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She turned back to the view and sighed a little. “I’m glad. Better to have too much help than not enough.”
He was silent; however it was not the sort of silence that indicated the end of a conversation, but rather, a silence that spoke of curiosity, and despite the fact Sofia was usually very guarded with what she revealed regarding her childhood, she found herself confessing, “When my father died, my mother kind of ghosted me. She didn’t cope. Not with the loss of him, or with…how I was. I don’t know what I would have done without the Santoros,” she admitted.
“They were there for you?”
“Yes. As much as they could be.”
“What does that mean?”
“I went to boarding school,” she said, lifting her shoulder. “So, mum could process everything.”
“And what about you? How did you process it, in the company of strangers?”
She winced, even though his anger was justified. As an adult, she couldn’t help but feel outraged by her mother’s decisions.
“The first term break, I went back home, but it was a nightmare—for both of us. The next holidays were over Christmas time, and we usually spent that with the Santoros. My mother declined to travel there, but she offered for me to go without her. I jumped at the chance. I never criticised her to Maria and Gianni, but I suppose they worked things out anyway because after that, it was just a foregone conclusion that I’d spend my breaks with them. I felt like a bit of a celebrity, to be honest,” she said with a wistful smile. “On the last day of school, Dante would usually turn up, all suave and handsome in a very fancy car, and drive me off to their private jet. I mean, talk about grandiose.”
He was smiling when he looked at her, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Those were solemn, and sympathetic. Qualities she loathed. “Anyway, that’s all ancient history now.”
“How are things between you and your mother now?”
Sofia lifted her shoulders. “She’s fine.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
She glanced up at him and shrugged. She didn’t want to answer—she didn’t knowhowto answer. The truth was, it wasn’t a question anyone had asked, because Sofia usually put walls up all over the place, making it clear that she wouldn’t be drawn on the matter. But this was different. And yet it wasn’t.
“What’s that building over there?” She pointed towards a large grey shape near the coastline.
There was a brief pause, in which she imagined him weighing up whether to allow the conversation change or not, and then he answered, “It’s a naval office.”
“Uh huh,” she said and pointed to another. “And that one?”
For the next few minutes, he went over the cityscape, describing each of the more notable buildings, and providing a little information about their history, before he took note of the setting sun and stepped away from Sofia. “I’d better set up the tent while there’s still enough light.”
“Can I help?” She asked.
He shook his head. “It won’t take long.”
As with the night before, he worked quickly, and the whole thing was ready within around ten minutes. “There are facilities over that way—slightly nicer than last night’s. There’s even a shower, of sorts.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, the hot water takes around five minutes to get going, so I usually shower cold, but otherwise, it’s functional.”
“Perfect,” she grinned. “Do you mind if I—?” She gestured towards it, thinking how nice it would be to freshen up before the night ahead. A night spent with Ares, in their shared sleeping bag scenario, if she had her way. And this time, they might find other ways to warm up…
“Go right ahead.”
“I’ll try not to use all the hot water,” she promised.
“I’m used to cold showers,” he assured her and then laughed. “That’s not what I meant.”
Her only response was to throw a slow smile over her shoulder before she headed off, backpack in place, towards the amenities hut.
Great.All he could think of, as he set about making a small campfire and placing a pot on it, was the fact that not one hundred metres away, Sofia was showering. Naked. Possibly lathering frothy, soapy bubbles all over her skin, while he sat like some kind of Neolithic.
When what he really wanted to be doing was pushing open the door to the cabin and striding inside, pushing her against the wall and kissing her senseless. Separating her naked legs with one of his own, feeling her press down on him out of an urgent, unavoidable need, and then making love to her until he forgot his kingdom, his people, his ex, his obligations, his whole life. He wanted to bury himself in Sofia until he forgot everything but the bliss of that moment: and he knew, without any hint of doubt, that it would be blissful.
