thirty-seven
My eyes blinked open slow, adjusting, my body heavy in that warm, satisfied way that only comes after too little sleep for all the right reasons.
Brooks was already awake.
He was propped against the headboard, hair a little messy, scrolling his phone with one hand while his other rested loosely on my hip under the sheets like he hadn't moved it all night.
The screen's glow lit the edge of his face, his mouth pulled into that half-concentrated line he got when he was reading.
"You're up early," I mumbled, my voice rough with sleep.
He glanced down, and just like that, the serious crease in his brow softened. "Morning." His hand gave the faintest squeeze at my hip. "Your snoring woke me up."
I groaned and rolled onto my stomach, burying my face in the pillow. "I do not."
"You do. Little ones."
"Stop lying." My words were muffled, but I reached out blindly and smacked his thigh. He caught my wrist easily, laughing, and tugged until I was sprawled halfway across him, my cheek against his bare chest.
For a moment, it was just quiet like that—the steady sound of his heart, the salt-tinged breeze slipping through the balcony doors, his hand absently brushing along the curve of my spine.
"What time is it?" I asked eventually.
"Almost ten."
I lifted my head, squinting at him. "You let me sleep that long?"
"You needed it." He leaned down to kiss the top of my hair, casual and thoughtless, the kind of affection that still managed to make something flip in my stomach.
I sat up, stretching, the sheet falling from my shoulders. "I'm starving."
"Already handled." He nodded toward the corner where a tray sat on the table.
"You ordered room service?"
He nodded.
I smirked. "You're very considerate."
"I try."
I slid out of bed and padded barefoot across the cool tile, grabbing a croissant. "So what's the plan? What's the best part of Mykonos?"
"The beach," he said.
"The beach," I echoed with my mouth full.
He set his phone aside finally and swung his legs off the bed.
Watching him move like that—unhurried, pulling a t-shirt over his head, ruffling his hair into some semblance of order—it hit me again just how surreal this all was.
A year ago, I couldn't have imagined waking up in Greece with him. Now it was just...happening.
"You're quiet," Brooks said, glancing at me as he pulled on a pair of shorts.
"Just thinking," I shrugged, reaching for the coffee. "About how ridiculous this is."
"Ridiculous?"
"In a good way. Like...me, here." I gestured vaguely toward the open doors, the ocean beyond. "It doesn't feel real. I've never been out the country before."
His mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but something close. "Get used to it."
The villa's bedroom was cool and bright, sunlight painting the floorboards in wide stripes. I pulled on a yellow bikini I'd barely remembered to pack, twisted my hair up with a claw clip, and checked my reflection.
When I came back out, Brooks was already shirtless, leaning over the suitcase for sunscreen. My steps stuttered before I could stop them. He glanced up, sunglasses dangling from one hand, eyebrow lifting like he'd caught me in the act.
"You okay?" he chuckled.
"Yeah." My voice came out a touch too quick. I grabbed the sunscreen from him just to have something to do with my hands.
A few minutes later we were outside, sandals dangling from our fingers, the stone path warm underfoot. The trail curved down to a private strip of sand, pale and quiet, the water impossibly blue.
I stopped halfway, breath caught. "This is so pretty."
Brooks only kept walking, as if the whole scene were nothing new.
"Pretty decent," he said.
"Pretty decent?" I stared at him. "You say that like it's a public pool back in Philly."
That finally tugged a laugh out of him, low and real, and it carried over the waves.
I dropped my towel, kicked off my sandals, and ran straight into the water. The water bit at my skin, sharp and cold, but I couldn't stop laughing. I turned back, hair plastered to my shoulders.
"Well?" I called. "Are you coming in, or just gonna watch?"
His smile flickered, dangerous and amused. He set his sunglasses aside, stepped in slow. By the time he reached me, the look in his eyes promised I wasn't safe.
He waded in like he had all the time in the world, water climbing his calves, his thighs, until he was finally chest-deep beside me.
"Took you long enough," I said, splashing at him before he could get too smug.
He didn't even flinch. Just raised a hand to wipe the spray off his face, slow as anything. "That all you've got?"
"Don't test me." I kicked at the water, sending another wave his way.
This time he lunged, catching me around the waist and dragging me back against him. I shrieked, wriggling, but he only laughed into my ear. The sound was warm, unguarded.
"Thought you said you wanted me in here," he teased.
"Not like this" I twisted, trying to splash him again, but he had me pinned too easily, hands steady against my sides.
We were both laughing, but then the space between us narrowed, and the laugh caught in my throat. Saltwater clung to his lashes, drops sliding down the hard line of his jaw. He looked at me like he had on the plane—hungry, but holding something back.
"Brooks..." My voice came out softer than I meant.
He bent down and kissed me, and for a moment the world disappeared—just the salt on his mouth, the warmth of his hands, the sea rocking us gently in place. It should've felt silly, kissing like that in the water, but instead it was dizzying.
I broke first, breathless, pushing at his chest.
We played until our limbs ached, chasing and dunking each other like kids, then collapsing in the shallows, waves lapping over our skin.
He kept reaching for me even when we were breathless—fingers brushing my knee under the water, his lips catching mine in kisses that went on longer than they should've.
By the time we trudged back up the sand, my skin was sticky with salt and my jaw hurt from grinning.
By the time we stumbled back up the path, dripping and sandy, the towels we'd left on the rocks were already warm from the sun.
I collapsed onto mine, breathless, wringing water from my hair while Brooks dropped down beside me.
His chest gleamed in the light, tan deepening already, and I had to look away before he caught me staring.
He reached for the sunscreen, slicking it across his shoulders without a hint of self-consciousness. "We should probably find food before I faint."
I propped myself up on my elbows, smiling. "I agree."
He swiped the bottle across my shin just to make me squeal, then handed it over.
"There was that place we passed yesterday," I said, rubbing lotion into my arms. "The one with the lanterns strung across the patio?"
Brooks stretched out, hands tucked behind his head, completely at ease. "I remember. You were practically drooling when you saw it."
"I was not." I tossed the cap at him. He caught it without looking, smirking.
"You were."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't hide my grin. "So that's where we're going tonight?"
"Whatever you want."
I shook my head, already picturing it—the two of us tucked under strings of lights, the sea somewhere just beyond the patio, wine staining my lips. For a second, the thought was so vivid it felt like it had already happened.
We gathered our things slowly, neither of us in a hurry. He slung the towels over his shoulder, I looped my sandals by their straps, and we started back up toward the villa. The stone path was quiet, cicadas buzzing in the heat.
We didn't notice the couple until we were nearly at the top. A tall man in a linen shirt and sunglasses, his hand on the back of a woman - sleek bob, gold bangles, that effortless kind of polish.
Brooks froze a fraction of a second before I did.
"Whitmore," the man said warmly, stepping forward. "Didn't expect to see you here."
My stomach flipped, instinct telling me to straighten, to smile, even though I had no idea who he was.
Brooks's hand brushed mine, quick and subtle, then fell away. By the time he spoke, his voice was smooth, practiced. "Small world. I'm here with my team—we're celebrating the win."
The man nodded, clearly impressed. "Of course. Well deserved. And this—?"
For the briefest moment, Brooks hesitated. His eyes flicked to me, unreadable, before he said, "Staff. She's part of the team. Everyone else left us behind. We took too long to pack up."
The word landed heavy in my chest. Staff.
I forced a polite smile, pulse drumming in my ears.
The woman's gaze skimmed over me—sharp, assessing—before she reached out her hand. "Well, congratulations. You must all be very proud."
But the man wasn't finished. "Where's Margot? Haven't seen her since the gala." He grinned, oblivious. "You two are the kind of couple people root for."
Brooks's smile didn't slip, not even an inch. "She's back home," he said lightly. "Busy as always."
The couple exchanged knowing looks, the kind reserved for people who believed they were in on something. Then they offered their goodbyes, walking off with the same easy confidence they'd arrived with.
And just like that, the moment was over.
But the echo of it clung to me, heavier than the salt on my skin.
We walked in silence after that.
The stone path, the whitewashed walls, even the ridiculous flowers spilling from every balcony—all of it blurred at the edges. My chest felt tight, like I couldn't pull a full breath no matter how I tried.
Staff.
The word pulsed, ugly and hollow, louder than the waves still crashing somewhere behind us.
Beside me, Brooks's stride was steady, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw worked. He opened his mouth once, like he might say something, then shut it again.
Finally "Amira—"
"Don't." My voice came sharper than I meant, but I didn't care. "Not right now."