Page 71 of The Island Villa

She glanced toward the beach. The sweep of sand gleamed pale gold. Between the boat and beach the sea stretched, deep and inviting, ribbons of sunlight glistening on the surface.

“You’re right,” she said finally. “Everything you just said is right, and I didn’t see it.”

Why hadn’t she seen it?

He shrugged. “Understanding the origin of your feelings doesn’t necessarily change them.”

“But it should. Maybe I’m being selfish.” It troubled her, the idea that she might have been thinking about her own needs and not her father’s. “I genuinely thought I was protecting him, and guarding his best interests.”

“You were. Are. It’s possible to feel more than one thing. To care about more than one thing. And you’re allowed to care about yourself too. It’s hardly surprising that what’s happening would affect you so strongly. The situation sucks. And you’re allowed to say it sucks.”

He was trying to make her feel better, but she didn’t feel better. She felt awful.

The boat drifted slightly, tugging on its anchor.

She gave him a shaky smile. “Ever thought of being a psychologist?”

“I’d be a terrible psychologist. And I’m starting to wonder about you, because I’m pretty sure no decent psychologist would be beating herself up for having normal human feelings. Do you know what you need?” He stood up and she looked at him, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“A large drink? A do-over?”

“No, a swim. It cures everything.” He stripped off his shirt and she caught the ripple and flex of muscle before she turned her head, frustrated with herself. She wasn’t eighteen. She should have moved beyond staring at a man’s abs.

“You’re going to swim now? Here?”

“Yes. And so are you. You might want to take some clothes off too, unless you fancy swimming fully clothed.”

She sat up a little straighter. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Trust me, the moment your toes hit that water, you’ll be in the mood,” he said. “This is a great place to swim. If my memory is right, you’re a good swimmer. The water is perfect, and we have the bay to ourselves. It would be a waste not to use it. I could throw you in if that would help your decision-making.”

As a child, being with him had always felt comfortable. Easy. They slid into their friendship like pieces of the same puzzle, fitting perfectly. It still felt comfortable, but now that feeling mingled with other sensations. Watching him strip down, ready to swim, she felt a slow unraveling inside her and a throb of heat low in her belly.

“I haven’t swum in the sea for years. You go ahead.” She felt lightheaded and a little strange, and he gave her a long look.

“You’re intending to sit in the boat and watch?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t attempt to persuade her. Instead, he stepped onto the side of the boat, stood for a moment, poised, and then plunged headfirst into the sea. Too late, she remembered that he’d always loved to splash her, dunk her, shower her in water. It had been one of their games.

She gasped as salt water soaked her shirt and dampened her hair. She peeled her shirt away from her skin and wiped her eyes with her palm.

Stefanos surfaced, wearing that wicked smile that reminded her of the boy.

“Thanks,” she muttered, and he grinned.

“You’re welcome.” His hair was sleek against his head and droplets of water clung to his cheeks and his wide shoulders. “You’re right. It’s terrible in here. Good decision to stay there safe in the boat. Don’t leave without me.”

He disappeared under the water again and then turned and headed for the beach, covering the distance in a strong, steady crawl.

She reached down and dipped her fingers into the water again. The surface was warm, heated by the sun, but as she plunged her hand deeper, she felt the cooler water. It reminded her that things were rarely the way they seemed on the surface.

Was Stefanos right? Was she standing in the way of her dad’s happiness because she was trying to protect herself? Maybe that wouldn’t make her an awful person (she tried always to challenge such extreme views), but it certainly didn’t make her a person she wanted to be.

She glanced back at Stefanos and saw that he’d almost reached the shore.

Was she protecting herself now, by not following him?

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