I’d always loved my sister. But that night, as I’d sat in the back of the taxi and sobbed out my story, a new bond had formed between us. She’d listened to me for a solid five minutes before she’d cut me off to ask where I was. When she learned I was en route to the airport, that I was actually following through with my dream of going to Paris, she’d told me to give her fifteen minutes. She’d called me back in ten with a suitcase in the back of a taxi. She held my hand as the plane lifted off and Santorini faded from view, a light-strewn speck against the black blanket of the sea at night.

“And now you’re here.”

“And now I’m here.”

“Why did you ask me to be your first lover?”

The impact of his question hits me out of nowhere, so blunt and unexpected that I answer without thinking.

“Because I know you. I’ve known you for years. You’re also, conveniently, my husband.” I hesitate, wondering if I should voice the rest, then decide to throw caution to the wind and just go with blunt honesty. “I know you never really saw yourself getting married or having kids. But I want a family of my own one day. In order to achieve that, I’ll have to date and…”

My voice trails off. This is awkward, telling my husband that one day I plan on sleeping with someone else.

“I know how babies are made, Tessa.”

His dry tone erases my guilt.

“I’ve never dated. Our kiss on our wedding day was my first and only kiss.”

His eyes widen. “What?”

“Don’t pity me.” I hold up a hand. “Please. Unless I count your brother—”

“What?”

I lean away from the harsh change in his tone.

“What? Gavriil kissed me when I was nine years old—”

“Which would have made him twelve,” Rafe snaps as he moves to the other side of the room, “old enough to know better.”

I roll my eyes. “Can you focus, please? He was a kid. It was a dare. It lasted less than a second. My point is I have no experience and absolutely no confidence in my ability to date, let alone find someone I can spend the rest of my life with. I know some people are going to be put off by my mobility—”

“Those people aren’t worth your time.”

“No,” I agree, touched by his defense, “but it doesn’t make it any less hurtful. If I have experience with sex, if I’m introduced to it by someone I know and trust, it will give me more confidence when I start dating. It might help me find the person I want to spend my life with.”

The words roll off my tongue, bitter and cold. Less than a year ago, I wanted Rafe to be that person. Heck, just a couple months ago, I still wanted it to be him. It wasn’t until the wedding I finally accepted that wasn’t going to happen.

I sigh. “Look, Rafe, I—”

“I accept your proposal.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in. When they do, all I can manage is blank stare.

“I… Is this a joke?”

“No.”

I frown. “Is this you being impulsive? Because last night you told me—”

“My knee-jerk reaction was impulsive.” The way he says the word sends a delicious shiver down my spine. “It surprised me. But on further reflection, I made an updated and more practical decision. You get what you want, I get what I want, and we both receive mutual pleasure as a bonus.”

I can’t help it. I lean back into my chair and laugh.

“I’m sorry,” I say as he stares at me. “Only you could turn something like sex into something so…businesslike and efficient.”

He smiles. Truly smiles. One that makes the sharp contours of his cheekbones even more prominent as his teeth flash white against tan skin.