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“Her mother, Ernestine, painted you as the devil himself. The man responsible for the accident was drugged . . .”
“What?”
“Let me finish, please. She repeated every day that, because of you, my best friend, my only friend at that time, couldn’t walk or sit up, among other horrible things that I don’t want to remember. At the time, I had recently lost my mother. It was already the third temporary home I’d stayed in, and Pauline and I built a very strong bond. I ran laps without wanting to, stayed in the rain for a little while, and jumped on one foot just because she couldn’t do any of that. It was for her that I became a model. That was her dream, the last request she made when I left her house. Remember the day we met?”
“You were taking pictures.”
“Yes, with a little doll in my hand, symbolizing her. I loved her with all my heart. In return, I hated you, the man who hurt my friend. But even when I found out your real name, I didn’t want to believe it, so I went to Ernestine’s house. She repeated the whole story she had told me when Pauline died.”
“She died?”
“Yes, at a very young age. Right after Macy adopted me.”
I run my hands over my face.
Holy crap. I would never have imagined such a thing.
I walk to the stove to turn it off. “If you’re here with me, I assume you already know the whole truth.”
“I know, and that’s why I made a decision, Christos. When we first got together and I found out who you were, I thought fate was mocking me. Now, I think differently. I believe we met because that’s how it’s supposed to be. I’m not asking for anything because I’m not completely free yet, but I’m not leaving this time. If this thing between us ends, you’ll be the one having to say goodbye to me.”
Christos
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Her words keep hammeringin my head.
If this thing between us ends, you’ll be the one having to say goodbye to me.
Destiny. Choices.
Leave everything in the hands of fate?
No, we are past that.
Decisions. That’s the central point now.
We went our separate ways, then around the world. In the end we found ourselves where we were two years ago. This time, hopefully, with a different outcome.
“I’m Greek, as you already know.” I begin by giving her what she asked. Zoe is right. When we first met, in my arrogance, I didn’t share anything about myself because I thought we would have time for that later. So I continue, “I am an only child. My parents have been married for over forty years and moved to the United States when I was just three. I worked for a good part of my life between London, New York, and California.”
“I love California.”
“I thought your dream was to be afarmer.”
She lifts her head from my chest. “You remember that?”
“I do remember.”
She looks uncomfortable and changes the subject. “Where in California?”
“My house?”
“Yes.”
“The main one is in Sausalito, near San Francisco, but I also have other places in the country. New York, Chicago... My job demands a lot of travel, and I don’t like hotels.” That’s something Beau and I have in common. We both own properties across the country so we don’t have to stay in hotels.
“I understand. They are so impersonal.” She smiles. “I always miss my pillow.”
