Chapter Twelve
LENA
I blocked his number after the tenth missed call. I’d lost count of how many unread text messages I’d deleted, no doubt variations of the first.
Lena. Please pick up. I’m so sorry. Give me a chance to explain.
There was nothing to explain. We weren’t in a relationship. We hooked up once. He didn’t owe me anything, and I didn’t owe him a chance.
I didn’t want or need that kind of drama in my life.
Especially not now. Better to end this before it started for real and move on.
I’d learned my lesson the hard way with Rob, and I wasn’t about to ignore the signs and pretend like Elias was anything other than what he was—a smooth-talking playboy with wandering eyes and no sense of commitment.
Despite my mature, adult reasoning, my heart ached with disappointment, a fresh pang of loss reminding me of how far I’d come over the past month and how far I would fall if I didn’t cut this off.
I liked Elias. Really liked him. I had trusted him.
I had thought his interest was genuine. Everything about our friendship and the feelings I’d developed rang true.
What I’d witnessed the night before seemed like an anomaly, a big misunderstanding.
But that was wishful thinking. That was romantic Lena talking, and I refused to let her explain away his behavior. I refused to fall into another trap.
I rode my beach cruiser to Harbour Town determined to resume my routine and ignore the painful splinter of disappointment wedged in my chest. It didn’t matter. Elias’s fuckery didn’t change my plans.
I locked my bike to the rack in front of the breakfast café and waved at Sonia as I walked in, standing behind the counter and taking orders. A line had already formed, even this early in the morning, and I patiently waited my turn.
“The one with the dark hair. His voice and his muscles and those eyes...” A woman’s bubbly voice carried over the din of the café.
I glanced over my shoulder at two young women sitting at a table near the door.
“No way. The blond. The way he looks at you when he sings…” The other woman’s voice had a daydreamy quality, and I could imagine her staring off into space with doe eyes. She let out an over-exaggerated sigh. “I felt like one of those teenagers from the fifties ready to fling my panties at Elvis.”
Her friend’s shrill laughter pierced the peaceful sounds of the coffee shop. “Oh my god, Sadie! Yes! I wanted to throw myself at that dark-haired Greek god. Those two were unreal.”
“Unreal is right. Do you think those old island legends are true? That there are sirens on Hilton Head? Maybe those two sexy singers are demons luring us in with their voices.” The two women burst into a fit of giggles, and I rolled my eyes so hard I thought my retinas might detach.
Despite their cringey fangirling over the man who’d stomped on my heart, my brain caught on the island legend comment, the stories from my childhood reemerging into the forefront of my thoughts.
I’d dismissed the idea in the past as ridiculous, but this time my gut latched onto the possibility and wouldn’t let go.
Grandma had always said the island had magic, and she’d raised me with an appreciation for the supernatural.
Until now, mythological creatures walked the line of being too out there, even with my spiritual upbringing. But now?
I stepped up to the counter. “Hi, Sonia.”
“Good morning, hun. Triple latte and a raspberry scone?”
I’d been coming back to the café regularly since that first visit, relishing the routine and Sonia’s company. “You got it.”
I glanced over my shoulder to see if anyone else was waiting. Nope. Just customers enjoying their breakfasts.
“Remember those old stories Grandma used to tell about sirens on the island?”
She quirked a wry grin, and her eyes sparkled with amusement. “You know your grandma and I never saw eye-to-eye on that sort of thing. A lot of mystical mumbo-jumbo, if you ask me. But yes, I remember the stories.”
“It’s been so long. I have this vague recollection of creatures enchanting locals with their voices, but… I’m fuzzy on the details.”
“You want the story.”
I nodded.
“The sirens.” She sighed and looked up as if accessing long-forgotten memories.
“That rumor has been floating around for years. Even when I was a young girl. They say a group of sirens emigrated from Greece around the turn of the century to escape persecution. They searched the coast of America for a place to settle, somewhere reminiscent of their Mediterranean home, and—” She held her arms open. “—they landed here.”
I raised a skeptical eyebrow, and she laughed.
“I know, it all sounds a bit far-fetched, doesn’t it?
And the rumors started a long time ago, back when my mama was a child and when women weren’t allowed to be as casual in their relationships.
And the island has been home to a couple of legendary singers over the years, just feeding the rumors.
Mama used to warn me off the island singers, telling me I’d be led astray.
” She chuckled and waved a dismissive hand.
“Old-world superstition if you ask me, the lot of it.”
“What about now?”
“Now? Well. I’m too old now to be out and about listening to gossip.
But if there’s any truth to the rumors—” She jutted her chin in the direction of the table by the door.
“—I’d put my money on those Georgiou boys.
” Her face took on a mischievous bend. “Yes, I overheard the ladies talking, too. Your grandma and I knew their fathers, and those men were just as charming and notorious as their sons. And those voices!” She fanned herself with a menu.
“No doubt there’s something magical about the men in that family.
” She narrowed her eyes and scanned my face. “Why do you ask?”
I looked away. “No reason.”
“Lena?”
“Ugh. Those swim lessons I’ve been taking?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ve been taking them with one of the instructors from the Ocean Explorers Club and—”
“Ahh. I see.” She chuckled again. “A little enchanted by Elias Georgiou, are we?” My cheeks heated. “You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. He’s a handsome one, all right.” Her eyes landed over my shoulder, and I glanced back to see a new customer in line.
“Thanks for breakfast, Sonia. And the story. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Anytime, hun,” she said with a nod, and I turned to leave.
I stepped out onto the porch and found an empty bench to enjoy my breakfast while the world went by—couples out for a morning stroll, the thwack of tennis balls from the court across the parking lot, golf carts carrying players to their next tee.
Elias said his grandfather and his great-uncle had emigrated from Greece. And Elias and Niko were in their mid-forties…
I took a bite of scone and washed down the sweetness with my latte.
I remembered how the words he sang to me that first night lodged in my head, playing on repeat as if they’d had a life of their own, their haunting tone and magnetic allure constantly demanding my attention…
I sipped my latte, hoping the milky comfort would temper the nervous seed forming deep in the pit of my stomach.
And while he sang? Sometimes even when he spoke?
His voice drew me to him like a moth to a flame.
It captivated me, compelling me toward him to beg for more.
I’d experienced it on more than one occasion, but wrote it off as my lusty, sex-starved body winning the war with my brain.
But maybe that wasn’t the reason. Maybe the island was home to another, more corporeal form of magic.
The nervous seed took root, a combination of unease and anger spreading out from my stomach into my chest and up my neck. A siren. A magical creature. Seducing me with his song and manipulating me into believing we had something special. Then moving on to his next victim.
“This just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?”
I struggled to sleep that night, the endless reel of racing thoughts about Elias, sirens, and moving to Hilton Head speeding across my mind like an action movie trailer on repeat.
I’m not sure how or when I finally succumbed to sleep, but I found myself transported into the kitchen amid the sights, sounds, and smells of a waking dream.
I stood behind Grandma at the standing mixer, her hand on the lever watching the batter come together.
She was making my birthday cake. Coconut with fresh strawberries.
I’d watched her do it every year as a child, and even after I moved out, she made it for me when I came home as close to my birthday as possible.
The smell of the coconut and sugar and the rhythmic whirr of the standing mixer penetrated my senses even through sleep.
A bowl of sliced strawberries sat on the counter waiting to adorn the final product.
I stood behind her, peering over her shoulder, and warmth radiated from her slight frame. Familiar. Comforting. Real.
She glanced back, the wrinkled features of her face filled with love and pride. She tipped her head and touched her forehead to mine like she’d done ever since I was little. A sense of safety and belonging swelled in my chest, a reflection of her unconditional love.
“I’m so proud of you, Lena. Trust your instincts—you know the truth. And never give up.” She held my gaze a moment longer as if to ensure her message landed, then turned back to face the mixer.
I woke with a start, and Grandma’s sudden disappearance ripped the scab off my still-healing heart.
I cried. Hard and unrestrained, I cried. Not the bitter, frustrated crying I’d done after my divorce. Not the sad, defeated crying I’d done after Grandma died. But a complete and uncontrolled emptying of emotion.
Everything came out in big, ugly sobs that wracked my body and expelled every last drop of self-doubt, worry, and grief. And when there was nothing left, when the well of my emotions had been tapped dry, I let out a final, pained sigh.
Dazed and dizzy, I sat up and worked to catch my breath, my body aching from the emotional release. I grabbed a tissue, wiped my eyes, and blew my nose. I drained the glass of water on my nightstand and let out a long, shuddering breath.
A quiet peace descended upon me, a grounded calm after an emotional storm, and with it came clarity. I had a plan. Everything else was noise.
I glanced at my phone. Six o’clock. Perfect. I picked it up and made the call.
“Yoga Star Charleston. This is Candace. How can I help you?”
“Hey, Candy. It’s Lena.”
“Hey, girl. It’s early. Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. I just wanted to see how things were going and run something by you. Do you have a minute?”
“The six a.m. just started so, yeah, I have the next hour and a half free.”
“Great.” Might as well get right to it. “How would you feel about managing Yoga Star Charleston?”
“I already manage Yoga Star Charleston.”
“No. I mean, by yourself.” I paused. “Like, without me there.”
Silence.
“Uh… Lena? What are you talking about?”
“I want to expand the business. I want to open Yoga Star Hilton Head.” My body buzzed with anticipation.
A loud thunk traveled across the line followed by a high-pitched squeal. I held the phone away from my ear until the piercing noise stopped.
“Candy?”
“Sorry! Sorry, I dropped my phone, because I am So! Freaking! Excited!”
She squealed again, and I held the phone away, laughing at her enthusiasm. “Yeah?”
“Are you kidding?”
“It’s going to be a lot of work, especially while I’m busy getting the new studio ready—I’ll be refurbishing an existing space.”
After resolving to stay on the island and expand my business, I’d spoken with Harry about buying Hot Yoga Hilton Head.
I had a nest egg from selling the house in Charleston, enough to cover a down-payment and repairs, and knew I could breathe new life and a fresh energy into the space.
When I’d offered to buy the studio, his eyes flooded with tears, and he lifted me off the ground in a giant bear hug.
The entire arrangement seemed fated and brought with it a renewed sense of purpose.
Nothing could deter me from this plan, not even my revelations about Elias.
“I know I can handle the extra responsibility,” she said. “I want to handle it.”
“I have no doubt, Candy. I trust you. You’re… family.”
“Aww! Don’t make me cry!”
I let out a nervous chuckle, my own eyes welling with tears.
“This is a good move for you, Lena. You need this.” The sincerity in Candy’s voice threatened to push me over the edge.
“You’ve sounded so much happier over the past couple weeks.
Happier than you’ve been in months. You needed the change of scenery, especially after the asshole.
” A beat passed, caught on her last word.
“Sorry. It’s just… he really is an asshole.
” I laughed, and the tears spilled over.
“Anyway, this is an opportunity for a fresh start. A new beginning for both of us!” More squealing. “I’m so excited!”
What a relief. I swiped at the happy tears trailing down my cheeks. “Me too.”
And that was the truth. I really was excited. Excited to walk out of the past and into the future. Excited to build a new community—a new family—here on the island. Excited to call this place home.