Chapter Two #2
“Nonsense.” I wave him off with my free hand. “I’m a clotheshorse—I have plenty of shirts. It’s a waste to have them all hanging there, unworn.”
“Well, if you insist…”
“I insist with every single fiber of my being.”
A smile plays with the corners of his mouth. “Okay. As long as it’s every fiber.”
Brightening as he takes the shirt at last from me on its wooden hanger, I gesture toward the WC. “You can change in there if you like. And I’ll take your coat to hang it up.”
Which I do. I wouldn’t be sorry if he changed in the hallway, but I’ll have to leave that thought for another time and give my imagination free run.
In the meantime, he heads off to change, and I go off to do the same, finding another white shirt and a pair of trousers.
I tsk at the state of the earlier bedraggled suit and shirt and put them over the back of a chair to dry.
I join the others in the airy and inviting front room, with its white walls and bookshelves flanking the fireplace and equally colorful paintings.
James has found the vodka in the freezer, and he’s set out glasses.
He’s already started in with Frankie. James sits sprawled in an armchair by the hearth.
Frankie’s on one of the plush velvet sofas, flipping through one of the oversized art books on my low coffee table.
“Ah, good.” James shifts to pour me a glass over ice, waiting on a tray. I accept the drink from him and sit on the sofa opposite Frankie. “Well, I must say this wasn’t the night you originally planned for.”
“Can’t say it is.” Truth be told, I was looking forward to my anniversary night, a cozy night in with Aidan after dinner out to celebrate our milestone.
Everything had been going so well. Obviously, I was wrong.
I shut down that line of thinking before it goes any further.
“Thanks for coming out on no notice. And for bringing Stefanos. It all helped.”
James’ eyes glimmer with something I can’t quite read. “Thought you might hit it off. Not quite like that, mind. You’ll need to go easier next time, Theo.”
Next time.
I do my best to give a nonplussed sort of shrug, leaning back against the riot of cushions, fresh florals over wool fabrics, I’d sewn together with my friend Ethan for a project on my social media. Once lovers, he married last year and remains one of my closest friends and co-conspirators.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Which is about when Stefanos joins us, pausing in the doorway.
He gazes around the room, taking it in, something I’ve taken pride in decorating with a heritage-meets-modern aesthetic.
Does he like it? My face warms, caught out, wondering if he heard our exchange.
The shirt looks as good on him as I imagined, and I nod my approval.
“Drink?” James asks, reaching for the vodka, but Stefanos shakes his head, one of his quick smiles appearing.
“No, thank you. I’ll be leaving in a moment.”
“Shame.” James shakes his head. “The night’s young. No sign of dawn for hours yet.”
He laughs. “I have an early flight out tomorrow. And I need to pack.”
“All-nighter,” James tries with an irreverent grin.
“Now, James, the man’s not our prisoner. He may leave if he wishes,” I admonish James.
Stefanos is entertained, at least at the idea of being kept captive here, which, despite whatever Aidan’s said, is not how I roll.
“Let me walk you out, then.” I glance at Stefanos, taking a sip of my vodka before setting it down.
We head back to the entry, where I retrieve Stefanos’ coat. Our gazes meet in the hallway mirror as he buttons his wool overcoat. It could be my imagination, but there’s the slightest blush over his cheeks as I take him in.
“James is right. It’s a shame you couldn’t stay,” I tell him as we walk out of my flat. I tug the door shut behind me and lock it for good measure. It’s hard to say if that’s to keep anyone out or to keep the rabble in.
He glances over his shoulder at me as we make our way to the lift. “Agree.”
Then, we’re not sure what to say to each other as we wait. I stuff my hands in the pockets of my wool coat, left open. I fidget with my keys in my pocket.
When we enter the lift, I press the button and lean back, my head resting against the mirrored wall. We’re reflected a million times in here. There’s something searching in his gaze. Something I can’t name.
“I’m glad to have met you.” Stefanos is all manners again. But his eyes dance once more. “And like I said before, everyone will forget about the news.”
I groan, shaking my head. “Yeah. Eventually.”
“The way out is through.”
“Perhaps for a better man.” I cough, caught off guard by his sincerity.
Then, the lift doors open, and we walk through the lobby past the porter, who opens the door for us.
And then we shelter together beneath the black awning as heavy rain falls.
Water pools in the street gutters, and spring’s promise is far away on this cool night.
A black car waits at the curb, engine idling.
“Well,” I begin, tilting my head at the car. Our breath curls in puffs in the dark night. “Guess that’s your ride, then.”
My gaze lingers on his. Such blue eyes, even in this light. The tip of his nose is already pink from the cold.
Stefanos searches my gaze in return, his eyebrows up ever so slightly. I’m a little taller than him. The lift to his jaw as he gazes up at me does something melty to my insides. And then he runs a hand through his waves and curls, moving with his gesture.
I open my mouth to say something, but I can’t find the air to speak. I fidget with my keys again.
“Maybe one day, we’ll meet again,” Stefanos says into the quiet. “James speaks highly of you.”
I shiver, entranced by him. God knows what James has said. He’s a wild card. So am I. My personal branding: chaos. “Maybe we will.”
“Come to Corfu when the weather’s better,” Stefanos says lightly. “Come to see the sun.”
It’s all I can do to swallow hard. Distraction, I tell myself, from your situation. He’s proven himself to be a textbook study of manners. Unlike Aidan. And I only ruin beautiful things. Plus, he’s a prince. And the timing is terrible.
Yet, I’m already intrigued. I want more.
I can’t have more.
“Better than summer in England, I suppose,” I quip. “Usually.”
“Usually!”
Then we both laugh, standing face-to-face. He mirrors my pose, hands deep in his pockets.
“I need to go.”
“Go.”
His eyes crinkle in a way I could totally get used to.
“I’m going.”
“Quit stalling, then. Get the hell out of here.” I shake my head, giving him a stern look. “And guess I’ll see you around.”
Then he unleashes the glory of his full smile, better than the Mediterranean sun, filling me with the warmth he radiates. I shudder. He turns and walks to the car, disappearing inside.
And I remain fixed in place, watching him leave, till the red taillights of the car vanish around the corner.