We embraced tightly, rocking back and forth like excited teenagers. I hadn’t seen her since Konstantin had carried her away mid-hair appointment a month ago.
“Look at you!” she exclaimed, stepping back to examine me from head to toe. “I’m glad you found someone to finish what I started!”
“Me too,” I laughed.
I’d found an African braider in Athens who was willing to finish my style the day after Kayla’s unexpected “wifenapping.” The relief when she was done with the style was inexplicable.
Konstantin stepped forward with a slight bow. “Ms. Massey, a pleasure to see you again.”
His personality was opposite Kayla’s effervescence, but I caught the warm look he gave her when she wasn’t looking.
Aristides cleared his throat from the doorway of our private box. “If you’re quite finished with the reunion, the race begins in twenty minutes.”
We filed into the luxurious viewing area, taking our seats with a perfect view of the track where Chrys would soon be pushing his limits.
There were many other races taking place, and I tried to take them in, focusing on the smell of burning rubber, fuel, and excitement. The energy was electric: engines roared, cameras flashed, and people chattered and roared.
And yet, I couldn’t shake the sensation of people staring. Was I being paranoid? I looked around and froze.
There, at the far end of the VIP section, sat Kat, surrounded by a small entourage. They huddled close, whispering and shooting glances in my direction, their expressions filled of disdain. My stomach twisted into knots.
I ignored them, focusing on the race taking place, wondering where Chrys was. “Will Chrys…anthos come here?” I asked Aristides, who sat to my right.
“My son never emerges from the pit. You won’t see him until it’s all over.”
I nodded. “Do you come to all of Chrys’s races?” I asked.
“I come to as many as I can, but I am a busy man.”
I eyed him carefully, noting that despite his air of cool, he seemed tense, probably concerned for his son’s well-being in one of the most dangerous sports in the world. Despite the fact the two men frequently clashed, Aristides loved his son. I wondered why Chrys didn’t realize that.
I leaned back in my seat, my thoughts drifting to the past month. The time Chrys and I had spent together on Thalassía had been nothing short of transformative.
Every sunset shared, every swim in the clear waters, every night in each other’s arms had deepened my feelings for him in ways I hadn’t thought possible.
The island itself had changed dramatically, too. Work crews now bustled about daily, hauling away decades of neglect from the villa.
The overgrown pathways had been cleared, allowing us to walk barefoot without being ambushed by weeds and thorns. Even the cottage had been transformed.
Chrys had surprised me by completely replacing the leaky roof and furnishing it with comfortable pieces. We spent days at a time there, talking until dawn about everything and nothing.
What amazed me most was how easily we’d fallen into a rhythm together. Our conversations flowed from architectural theories to childhood memories, from silly debates about movies to profound discussions about our futures.
I’d finally opened up about my father’s abandonment and how he’d never answer my calls. Chrys held me as I cried.
Chrys had been equally forthcoming, confessing his promiscuous past with openness. The number of women in his history was staggering, and sometimes late at night, I wondered if I was just another warm body. But each morning, he looked at me with such love that my doubts would dissolve.
The blissful month passed without a single appearance from Kat, which felt like a gift. Her absence until now had allowed our relationship to flourish without constant attacks.
Our only source of distress was my rapidly approaching return date to the U.S. Chrys brought it up repeatedly, asking me to extend my stay.
“Just until the villa is restored,” he’d plead. “The island will be even more beautiful in autumn.”
Each time I’d smile noncommittally, torn between my life back home and the new life blooming here with him. It was the one conversation we never quite finished.
“What are you thinking about?” Kayla whispered, nudging me back to the present.
“Just how much has changed so quickly,” I admitted quietly. “Two months ago, I was fighting what I felt for Chrys. Now I can’t imagine my life without him.”
