Page 57 of The Best Thing He Never Wanted

“No promises.”

She stood, then rested her hand briefly on his shoulder.

“I’m glad you came, Blane.”

The words hit harder than they should have. He looked up at her and covered her hand with his own. “Me too.”

She held his gaze for another second before turning and disappearing toward the back of the jet.

Blane sat there for a while after she was gone. Then he picked up the map. He told himself he was only looking at the route. That lasted about thirty seconds.

By the time Bear let him know they’d started their descent, he knew where the nearest hospital was, where the police station was, how far Bea’s village was from the coast, and three different ways to get from the airport to the house.

He folded the map before she came back.

She appeared a few minutes later, her hair slightly rumpled and sleep still softening her face.

“Did I miss anything?”

“Couple countries.”

Her eyes widened.

“Kidding.”

“Blane!”

He smiled and nodded toward the window. “Come here.”

She crossed the cabin and leaned down beside him.

For a moment, all he could see was blue. Then the island came into view beneath them—mountains rising out of the sea, pale roads cutting across the land, towns gathered along the coast.

Bea sucked in a breath. “There it is.”

Blane looked out at Crete. Then he looked at her. She had one hand braced against the window, her whole face lit up as she stared down at the place she’d chosen.

A few days ago, he hadn’t known she existed. Yesterday morning, he hadn’t known he’d be leaving England with her. Now he was about to land on an island he’d never planned to visit and find out what the life Bea had chosen for herself looked like.

He probably should think this was crazy, but he didn’t—not even a little bit.

Chapter Eleven

It turned out that arriving at Chania Airport in a private plane was very different from arriving on a charter flight with hundreds of fellow tourists. There was no long queue to collect their luggage—Bear simply handed their bags to Blane. Then there was no line to get through passport control. Just a pleasant-looking chap who smiled and nodded, gave their passports a cursory glance and waved them through.

Before Bea had even figured out that she hadn’t managed to thank Bear, they were outside the terminal building.

She looked up at Blane. “I didn’t say goodbye or thank you.”

“That’s all right. I’ll let them know you said so.”

He had his duffel bag slung over his shoulder and stared out at the chaos in front of the terminal. People spilled outside, being herded toward buses. Cars fought for space at the curb, honking at each other.

And Blane stood still in the middle of it all, scanning the area. “There it is.” He pointed.

She looked but couldn’t see what he meant. “There what is?”

Blane took his phone out and scowled at the screen. “Yep. That’s really it.”