Page 55 of Footprints in the Sand
As they stared at the sky above, his fingers linked with hers. Her heart thudded with understanding.
“I don’t want you to be far from me,” Jean-Paul whispered. “I don’t want you to be a stranger to me. Do you understand?”
Eva said she did. Tears filled her eyes, and Jean-Paul’s firm, capable hand took purchase of more of hers. As the Aegean shifted gently against the dock, she let herself fall deeper into what she’d always felt for Jean-Paul.
“Jean-Paul?” she whispered.
But instead of answering, he brought his muscular body over hers and kissed her right there on the dock. Their wet dark curls coiled together, and their lips glistened. Eva thought it was the best kind of fairy tale, if only because this happily ever after meant everything had only just begun.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Martha’s Vineyard - August 2025
Dimitra wasn’t surprised when the six weeks after Kostos was “discovered” flew by. For days after the initial article, she fielded phone calls from journalists, gave interviews, and spoke with several lawyers, all of whom advised her to “hang tight.” They were dealing with it. It was a nightmare, but it was also fascinating to watch. She became sort of famous around Martha’s Vineyard, with people at bars and restaurants asking her questions about Kostos and whether she ever got the hint he was bad news.
“He was great at lying,” Dimitra always said.
“Many men are,” they always said in return.
Most essential to the mission of all, as it turned out, was Oriana’s lawyers, who somehow, some way, figured out that it was William who’d broken the story. It seemed that he’d hired a private detective to do some digging on Dimitra, and from there, the story had broken open like an old coconut.
But the last thing William wanted was to taint his reputation by linking himself with that story. Based on whatever Oriana’s lawyers said to him, he made some kind of payment to a news source so that they stopped hounding Dimitra like crazy. Dimitra was grateful to Oriana.
Oriana, to her credit, was devastated that she’d introduced Dimitra to William in the first place. “I still want to introduce you to high rollers,” she said. “I want to get you the very best contracts. I want to champion your work! But I want to do it with better people. You deserve that.”
Dimitra wanted to keep working. She wanted to attend the exhibition in Athens, then capitalize on that hoped-for success and find more exhibitions, artist residencies, and sales opportunities.
But she was also painfully aware of how close to the end of her time with Harry was. Out of this torrential and at times harrowing time, she’d found a lover to call her own. Because she and Harry had always known the summer would come to an end, they’d prepared their hearts and minds for goodbye.
During Harry’s last week on the island, Dimitra slept on the sailboat three nights in a row and greeted each morning with a dramatic and refreshing leap into the sea. Sometimes if they forgot where he was, Cash joined her, and she had to perform a ritual to save him. He always got overexcited. Who could blame him?
Harry also sometimes slept at Dimitra’s place. But they both agreed that Eva needed to get out of there. Finn had stolen from her there. She needed a new space, just as much as Dimitra did back in Aliki.
“It’s hard for me to imagine going back there,” Dimitra admitted on their last night together in Martha’s Vineyard. “I can’t imagine doing anything I used to do there. I can’t imaginemyself at a family party or shopping at the grocery store or drinking wine at the beach bar.”
Harry kissed her fingers and tucked her hair behind her ear. After a very long time, he said, “I want you to come to South Carolina tomorrow.”
Dimitra couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
“I want you to meet my daughter and my ex-wife,” he said. “I want you to see where I really live, when I’m not pretending to be a vagabond. After that, I know you have your flight back to Greece. I know you need to leave the country.”
“For visa reasons,” Dimitra reminded him.
“Of course.” He pressed his lips together. “Am I alone in thinking that this is really special?”
Dimitra’s voice wavered. “It’s really special. It is.”
Harry cupped both of her hands in his. “Meet my daughter. See my life.”
What could Dimitra do but say yes?
The following morning, at half past eleven, Dimitra had her bags packed and Eva’s place spick-and-span after a thorough clean. Harry was at the dock with the sailboat, ready to cruise them down south. His text read:Cash is ready to get out of here!All she had to do was say hello and goodbye to Eva, and, of course, hug Meghan and Oriana tightly. Oriana had agreed to drive her to the dock and drop off the rental car for her, which wasn’t one hundred percent legal, they thought, but probably wouldn’t hurt. Plus, Oriana knew the car rental guy.
When the doorbell rang, Dimitra hurried to open the door and found, to her tremendous pleasure, not only Eva but also Jean-Paul, the marble sculptor. So far from the Greek sunshine,Jean-Paul looked out of place but very, very happy, with a smile that didn’t suit his French sensibilities. Dimitra opened her arms and hugged first Eva, then Jean-Paul, saying, “Welcome to Martha’s Vineyard. Welcome home.”
Eva looked bubbly and overjoyed. “Mom picked us up at the airport this morning,” she explained. “She didn’t know Jean-Paul was coming, so it’s all been a big surprise.”
“What did she say?” Dimitra asked.
