“I am.” She drew herself up. “Truly.” Her eyes narrowed fractionally. “Is that why you broke up with me all those years ago? Is that why you slept with Tia?”
The sudden pivot caught me off guard. The mention of Tia’s name in Katalina’s mouth felt like a violation.
“No,” I said, unsurprised by the gentleness in my voice when I spoke of Tia. “I actually like Tia. She isn’t a liar like you.”
Katalina’s mouth twisted into something ugly. “You can’t possibly be attracted to her. She’s fat and black.”
Hushed murmurs erupted into outright gasps. People recoiled visibly from her words. In the corner, I noticed Katalina’s mother press her lips together in mortification, but she made no move to intervene as dozens of witnesses turned to stare at her in judgment.
My father stepped forward, his voice carrying across the now-silent room. “I believe this evening has run its course.” The dismissal in his tone was unmistakable. He turned to Katalina. “You need to leave, as I won’t abide for racism in this house.”
Katalina laughed. “You’re attracted to a girl who slept with over half the boys on our college campus.”
I shrugged, affecting nonchalance while fury simmered beneath. “She could have fucked a thousand men, and I would still want to be the thousand and first.”
My father pinched the bridge of his nose, and I left to find my girl...
11
I stood at the edge of Thalassía’s small dock, watching the boat grow smaller against the horizon. The decision to come here at dawn had been sudden. After last night’s drama, I couldn’t face Santo’s family over breakfast.
I turned toward the island that was now mine alone—at least until the boat returned for me this evening. Thalassía was beautiful. Her limestone cliffs caught the sun’s rays while waves crashed against the shore. The solitude was exactly what I needed.
“Come on, Zeus,” I said, turning back. “We’ve got work to do.”
I grabbed the heaviest box first and began the trek to the cottage. The path was steep, winding through scrubby vegetation, and my arms ached by the time I reached the door.
Setting down the box with a thud, I wiped sweat from my brow and headed back down for the second load. Zeus followed dutifully, seemingly enjoying the exercise.
“At least one of us is having fun,” I muttered, picking up my drafting tools and reference books on the second trip. The weight pulled at my shoulders as I climbed again, the morning sun growing stronger with each passing minute.
On the last trip, my breathing was labored. I paused halfway up the path, setting down my burdens to catch my breath. Zeus circled back, staring at me.
“I’m fine,” I assured him, though my legs protested as I continued upward. “Just not used to being a pack mule.”
Back at the cottage, I arranged my workspace at the rustic wooden table near the window, where natural light would be best for drafting. I unpacked methodically.
Zeus settled on the worn rug nearby, his chin resting on his paws as he watched me unpack. The cottage felt eerily quiet with just the two of us. Being the only inhabitants on an entire island created a strange, suspended feeling.
I forced myself to focus on measurements and structural assessments rather than the memory of ignoring Santo when he came in search of me last night. The confrontation with Kat reminded me why I should stay away from Santo and maintain professional boundaries. The man’s ex was delusional, and I didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire more than I have.
I had just finished arranging my drafting materials when the first raindrops hit the cottage roof. The patter quickly intensified into a steady drumming as dark clouds rolled in from the sea, transforming the bright morning into premature twilight.
“So much for perfect weather,” I muttered to Zeus, who had settled on the worn rug beside my workspace.
The storm wasn’t in any forecast I’d checked. I moved to close the windows, watching as the previously calm sea transformed into churning whitecaps. Wind drove the rain sideways against the windows.
I returned to my blueprints, determined to make progress despite the interruption. The first cold drop landed directly on my drawn elevation sketch, creating a spreading watermark across the paper.
“What the—” I looked up to see a dark stain forming on the ceiling. Another drop splashed onto my cheek.
I quickly gathered my papers, moving them away from the growing leak. I searched the cottage for something to catch the water, finding a pot in the kitchen cupboard. Its hollow ping created an irregular percussion as water dripped into it.
Zeus watched from his dry corner as I inspected the rest of the ceiling. Thankfully, there appeared to be only one troublesome spot. With my drawings safe and the leak contained, I returned to the table, shifting my chair to a dry section.
“Crisis averted,” I said to Zeus, who responded with a noncommittal huff.
The storm continued outside, but the cottage remained otherwise dry and secure. In the distance, a mechanical whirring sound penetrated the drumming rain.
