Page 19 of One Weekend in Greece

“I want to make something clear. I don’t want to take advantage of you. You’re so much younger than me. But, yeah, I definitely don’t regret having sex with you. It was incredible, and I find you to be incredible. The problem is, I know we need to get through this weekend, but I don’t know if I can get through it without being with you again.” I’m such a sap. I can’t believe I’m saying all this, but I pray she doesn’t laugh in my face.

“Why is that a problem?”

“You don’t deserve to have some man pawing all over you all weekend. Plus, I promised your brother I’d take care of you.”

She raises her chin and tilts her head to where she’s a breath away from my lips. “Then take care of me.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s how your brother meant for me to take care of you.”

Nicole looks like there’s something she wants to say, but she’s holding back. Her eyes study me for a brief moment before she boldly asks, “Are you going to kiss me?”

I really, really want to kiss her right now, but something doesn’t feel right. I need her to understand she’s important to me, but I don’t know if I can be what she deserves. Her brother is my best friend, and she’s still so young. If I ruined our families’ friendship, it would destroy everyone, especially my daughter.

“If I do, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop, not after I know how good every inch of you tastes. I’d be lying if I said I don’t want you.” She takes a step closer to me, causing our chests to touch. “I’ve always been upfront about what I have to offer someone. I can only offer this weekend, though you deserve more.”

Her anger is palpable, but she keeps her lips pressed together, like she’s working through her words before she speaks. Slowly, she takes a step back. In a moment’s time, the heat leaves her eyes as she waves me off and steps inside the bathroom. Before she closes the door, she says, “Shame. I was going to ask you to help me wash.”

As the door closes and the lock clicks into place, I’m left standing there, hard as fuck and not feeling any better—maybe worse—about this whole situation.

That afternoon, I treat everyone to dinner on a yacht ride around the island. Santorini has one of the most mesmerizing sunsets in the world. I offer a hand to help Nicole step onto the yatch, telling her, “The best way to see the island is from the sea.”

She gives me a pleasant enough nod but refuses my hand. Nicole hasn’t been giving me the cold shoulder, but worse, indifference. She’s acting like nothing happened. She’s been completely professional, doting on Dafni and having lovely conversations with everyone except for me. She’s spoken to me, but only when necessary and in a completely professional manner.

I’m not one to accept defeat and have been biding my time. Finally, I find my opportunity to corner Nicole. She asks Mamá to keep an eye on Dafni, saying she’ll be right back. Like a total creeper, I stalk behind her and wait for her at the base of the steps.

Nicole opens the door and jumps back, startled. Her hand is on her chest as she asks, “Please tell me you need to use the restroom and weren’t just waiting out here like a creeper?”

“We need to talk.”

“What is your deal with cornering me by bathrooms?”

This isn’t how I was hoping the conversation was going to go. I’m already at a disadvantage by coming off perverse and weird. “To be fair, it’s only been twice. And it’s the only time we have privacy.”

“It’s supposed to be my private time. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Well, it’s not like I went in with you.” I hold my hands up. “Never mind that. Why are you mad at me?” I point my finger at her and quirk a brow. “And don’t say you’re not.”

Nicole smirks and flips me off.

“What did I say to upset you?” I push. “Was it that I can’t offer more?”

She crosses her arms and levels me with a look of unwavering determination. “I’ll tell you why, Jakob Petridis. You’re older. You have a daughter. You’re a successful businessman, and yes, relationships are risks. You make some sound points. But I’m not a stranger. I know you. And I’m not too young or immature to make my own decisions. What you fail to understand is a relationship involves two people taking the risks and making the decision to try.”

I extend my arms and hold up my hands. “What are you talking about?”

“You say you want me.”

“I do!”

“But I’m too young.”

“You are!” She’s becoming exasperating.

“Says who?”

My eyes widen and I raise my eyebrows. “You’re twelve?—”

“I’m twenty-two years old. Past the legal age of adulthood. I’ve graduated from college. I have a career lined up. I’m an adult, Jakob. Don’t pretend like my age is holding you back. You drew that line, not me. I don’t think you’re too old.”

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