Page 65 of The Island Villa

“But you wanted to scream. Don’t hold back on my account. It’s not the first time I’ve seen you upset.” He tucked the rag he was holding into the pocket of his shorts and she stared at him.

“I have no idea what you’re...” She studied his face, taking in raven dark hair, those angular cheekbones and the smile that curved his mouth and creased the corners of his eyes. There was something familiar about the angle of that smile. A memory stirred deep inside her. “Stefanos?”

His smile widened. “I don’t know whether to be offended that you didn’t recognize me or flattered. I’ll go with flattered, because no one wants to look the way they did at twelve years old. You’ve changed too, by the way.”

“I wasn’t expecting—oh, it’s good to see you.” She took a step forward and then stopped herself just in time. What was she thinking? She’d almost hugged him! She must be feeling worse than she’d thought. “My mother mentioned that you were here but I didn’t...”

“You were focused on other things.” He paused for a moment. “You’re here for the wedding. That must be a little strange in the circumstances. How do you feel about it?”

Sick. Stressed. Panicked.

She curled her fingers into her palms. “It’s exciting,” she said. “I’m very happy for them.”

“Yes?” His gaze connected with hers and she saw the sympathy there. “That’s why you were pacing the jetty looking for a place to scream?”

Perhaps it wasn’t altogether surprising that he didn’t believe her given that he’d witnessed her reaction to her parents’ divorce. It was the first time she’d discovered the true power of friendship. The matchless comfort of having someone in your corner. Someone who cared and understood.

“It was a shock.” She was willing to admit that much. “I’m still processing it.”

“A shock?” He frowned. “You didn’t know? They didn’t tell you?”

“Not until last night. Apparently, my parents thought the best plan was to wait and tell us in person.”

He muttered something in Greek and she smiled because although her Greek was limited she understood what he’d said.

“Exactly. We gathered together on the terrace for dinner and then my mother produced my father like some sort of conjuring trick. The big reveal. We were probably meant to applaud, but it didn’t quite work out that way.”

The look he gave her was sympathetic.

“I’m starting to understand why you’re feeling the need to scream.”

She was embarrassed. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“Perhaps because we were once good friends and told each other everything. We’re not strangers, Addy.” The warmth in his eyes and his easy use of her childhood nickname stirred something inside her.

The world tilted.

She felt as if she’d been pushed off balance.

“How about you? My mother mentioned that you’d moved back here permanently.”

“I moved back last summer after my father died.” There was a shadow behind his eyes, a hint of pain behind the smile.

“I was sorry to hear about your father.” And now she had another reason to feel embarrassed. “I should have contacted you.”

“How? We lost touch, although why that happened, I’m not sure.” His gaze lingered on hers and she felt almost breathless.

“We were just kids. I was eight years old when we met. You were ten.”

“But for two years we were the best of friends.”

The best of friends.

At eight, she’d been handling turmoil and he’d been there. They’d clambered over rocks together. Swam in the shallow waters of the beach beneath her mother’s house. He’d taught her some words of Greek and held her hand as they’d explored some of the trails along the beautiful coastline. He’d been the one predictable thing in her rapidly changing world.

She pushed the memory aside. There was no point in being sentimental about something that had happened so long ago.

“How is your mother doing? I haven’t seen her yet.” She felt a twinge of guilt thinking about how hard Maria had probably worked to produce the meal they hadn’t eaten, although in the end she and Cassie had eaten some of it, of course. Not at a table with silverware and freshly ironed linens, but quietly on their laps on the beach, like two children sneaking out to have a midnight feast.

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