Page 52 of You Can't Fight Lightning
“One of your favorite places.” Z’s hand tightened around mine, and he stood close to me. His voice was soft, so as to not attract the attention of the people nearby.
“How did you do this?” I looked to the left and right, trying to fathom how we’d ended up here.
“God, remember? That means I can go where I want at a moment’s notice.” He looked down. “Would you like some of the baked feta you told me about?” Z leaned down and he was almost smiling.
Almost, as though he worried about smiling too soon.
“Yes, please.” All my anger evaporated. Which was strange. I wasn’t happy. But…
A god. This man was a damn god.
We were in Greece.
In Santorini.
At my favorite restaurant, and he was inviting me to have some of the wonderful feta, wrapped in a light pastry and served with honey.
“They’re waiting for us, if you want to go in.” He let go of my hand and stepped back.
For a moment, I was disoriented. His hand had been in mine since the dark parking lot in front of my apartment. Now, I was untethered, here in Greece, halfway around the world, and he’d let go of my hand.
I wanted him to take it in his again.
So I reached over and slid my hand in his. “Lead the way.”
“Thank you.” His words were still soft. Then he stepped forward, not letting go of my hand and we walked into Metaxi Mas, the restaurant I’d told Z about. My happy place during my trip to Greece, as it were.
It must have been a shock, as I moved through the door and then to a table out on the patio. It was early afternoon, which didn’t make sense with the time difference. “What time is it?” I looked up at Z as we sat down.
“It’s after lunch. I wanted to be here when everything was open.”
“How does that work?” My head felt like it spun like a top that was slowing down. Uneven, off balance.
Z shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”
He must have seen the expression on my face.
“I can’t help it.” I wasn’t sure he could hear me.
“Well, don’t.” His tone was firm. “We’ll go back to right when we left.” He grinned then as he pushed his hair out of his face. “You’re traveling on the Olympus express.”
“Oh, ha, ha.” I leaned back. All the anger, all the strength I had before when confronting him—it was gone. Almost as though it had never been there. “This doesn’t change what you did, Z. You crossed a line.”
The waiter came over and Z ordered in what sounded like perfect Greek. Not that I’d know, but the waiter was nodding and smiling, so it must have been pretty close to perfect. Since he was a Greek god, I’d hope so.
Within moments, the waiter came out, a huge grin on his face. He slid a plate of the feta I loved between us, and with a nod to first Z, and then me, he disappeared, almost as though he’d been conjured in the first place. There were other people around us, but they seemed somewhere in the distance, almost lost in the haze of the sunny afternoon.
I took a bite, part of me still struggling to understand how this was happening—or even what was happening.
“You’re really… him?” I whispered the last word.
“No one else can hear us, Roxy.” His smile was warm. At the same time, I saw hope and worry behind the curve of his lips, lurking in his deep blue eyes.
He was worried.
“Okay. You’re really Zeus?”
He didn’t speak, but nodded, his eyes on me as he brought a bite of the feta to his mouth.
