Page 33

“Until the next match,Doctor.”

His chuckles follow me all the way to the open bedroom door.

Chapter Eleven

Biting my lip, Ipress my face against the passenger window, barely containing my excitement as our SUV careens down the narrow, winding road from the airport to Tourlos Port in Mykonos, where our cruise ship, The Orchid Royale, is docked.

I’ve never been to Greece before. Heck, I’ve rarely traveled outside the summer trips with Mia and my parents to Taiwan in middle school to visit our ailing grandparents. Even then, we wouldn’t have time to sightsee. We’d spend most of our days at the elderly care center. I’d listen to Grandma ramble about me being too skinny, how I needed to eat more to have the energy to study and earn good grades.

Have you eaten yet?

I smile inwardly. Maybe Mom got the phrase from Grandma.

After cracking open the window, I poke my head out to get a better view of this beautiful city.

Soft chuckles reach my ears, and I hear the faint sound of a camera shutter. Then I feel the distinct pressure of someone’s attention on me from the backseat.

I whip my head around.

Rex, manspread on the plush leather seat, a lazy tiger stretching out his limbs, is staring at me as if planning his next move to take me down. Bree sits quietly next to him.

He twirls his phone in one hand, his gaze sharpening as he scrapes his long fingers over the sexy scruff decorating his jaw. His attention settlesover me like a blanket, and I don’t know if I want to kick it off or snuggle deeper into it. He cocks his brow and winks.

Unable to help myself, I mutter to Bree, “Watch out for this one. He flirts with anyone with a vagina.”

Ah shit. Why did I say that? I bite my tongue, and heat rushes to my face. The damn bastard chuckles.

Bree snaps her gaze to me, her eyes widening. “Oh, we’re not like that.” She glances at Rex then back at me. “None of my business.”

Huh? That’s what Rex implied last night. But the casual handholding, the brief touches. I’m so damn confused.

None of your business, Olivia.

Rex arches his brow again. He taunts,“See, what did I say?”

Rolling my eyes, I look away, finding Bree frowning, obviously deep in thought. She’s clenching her sundress like she’s nervous.

I frown as I watch her twist the fabric, releasing it, then twisting it again.

When she catches me looking, clear panic flashes in her blue eyes before it disappears. Then she smiles and relaxes.

Straining a grin, I turn my attention back to the infuriating man next to her, who still has his unnerving attention on me. And in this strange game of chicken, I look away as the car comes to a stop.

Without waiting for the staff to open the door, I jump out, clutching my Leica M6 camera hung around my neck, eager to get my first full glimpse of the city where we’ll be spending the next few days before setting off to Santorini.

Locals and tourists on their scooters zoom by, a line of luxury sedans and limos idling at the curb. Porters dressed in livery assist women clad in the latest cruise fashions out of their cars. Monogrammed luggage is neatly stacked and shuttled to the massive cruise ship ahead.

I ignore the chaos—the loud conversations in Greek and English, the blaring car honks. Instead of heading to the ship, I beeline toward a small clearing, my lungs raking in the crisp air of brine and rosemary,my eyes absorbing the endless stretch of vibrant cobalt of the Aegean Sea glinting under the harsh sunlight peeking from behind the clouds.

Carefully, I adjust the dials, lift my camera, and take a photo.

I’m here, Mia. About to turn thirty, on my way to Las Fallas. You asked me to burn our regrets. I know what regrets I have, but you never told me yours.

Perhaps this is why I bury myself in work and avoid vacations. When the mind slows down, it wanders. It was easy to distract myself before—the heavy coursework in college and medical school, the grueling hours of residency, working at the hospital, and then later on, starting my practice.

I told myself this was me using my time wisely, making responsible choices for my patients, and not having my parents worry about me.

But now, at the cusp of thirty, away from everything I’ve numbed myself with, I finally realize the extent of my hollowness. The frustration. The discontent.