“Someone’s jealous,” I say with a breathless laugh.
Athena reluctantly steps back. “Timing was never his strong suit, but it’s probably for the best.”
“Yeah…” I straighten my blouse that’s become wrinkled, and we stand in silence for a moment, eyes locked, chests heaving.
Athena’s gaze lowers to my lips again. She looks like she’s fighting an internal battle. She takes a half-step forward before catching herself. “If I start again, I won’tstop,” she says. “And I don’t think either of us wants that complication right now.”
She’s right, of course. But wisdom seems increasingly irrelevant when she looks at me like that. My body responds to her stare, a rush of heat between my thighs that makes me press them together.
“I’m sorry about that,” she whispers. “I shouldn’t have?—”
“You’re not sorry,” I interrupt, feeling bold. “And neither am I.”
Athena reaches out to trace the line of my jaw. “I’m so fucking hungry,” she says, cupping my chin.
Behind us, Zeus knocks a container of pastitsio to the floor, as if reminding us that in this house, he decides when—and if—we feast.
I want her to take me, to rip my clothes off and do with me as she pleases, but she shakes her head and smiles. “I’d better head back before Mom comes looking for me. Don’t be a stranger. She insists on seeing you again before they leave.”
THIRTY-EIGHT
ATHENA
Two wineglasses catch the moonlight, nearly empty after my lengthy conversation with Demetria. We’re on the loungers by the pool, lying down after Mom overfed us again.
“So, you’re going to move to New York with Julian?” I ask.
Demetria stretches her legs out and yawns. “That’s the plan. We’ll see if it works out between us, but for now, yes.”
“But what about Mom?”
She arches her eyebrows in challenge. “WhataboutMom? You moved away. Why should I be the one to stay behind?”
I wince, realizing how it sounded. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Didn’t you?” Her tone softens slightly. “Look, Mom has plenty of friends and family back in Greece; she won’t be short of company. If I’m not there anymore and she wants to be closer to us, she could move to New York. Or to Vegas.” She gestures around us with her wineglass. “Be closer to you.”
The thought makes me chuckle. “She would never move away from Greece.”
“Exactly.” Demetria reaches for the bottle to refill our glasses. “She complains about missing us, but do you think she’d actually leave Santorini? Her church? Her friends? Her sisters?”
“Not a chance,” I agree, accepting the refill.
Crickets chirp somewhere in the desert beyond the property line. I love that sound at night.
Demetria shifts on her lounger, turning to face me fully. “I know this isn’t your house,” she says out of nowhere.
The wine turns sour in my mouth. “What?”
“You might be able to fool Mom, but you can’t fool me.” Her eyes are piercing, seeing right through me. My baby sister is clever. “This isn’t your house, Athena.”
I open my mouth to protest, but she raises her hand to stop me.
“First, there’s no way that’s your furniture. There’s nothing wrong with it. In fact, it’s quite nice, but it’s not yours.” She ticks off points on her fingers. “Second, you have no idea where anything is. Third, I went into your bedroom earlier when you were at your neighbor’s, and there are clothes in there that are not yours. I haven’t seen you wearing anything other than white since we were little, and you don’t wear heels either. There were at least ten pairs of heels in there.”
“You went into my room? That’s not okay, Dem.” My mind races for explanations, but Demetria isn’t finished.
“It’s not your room, so I’m not going to apologize,” she says matter-of-factly. “And last but not least… when we got back the other night, you hesitated at the front door like you weren’t sure which key to use.” She leans forward. “Also, the bookshelf in the office upstairs? Half the books are legal textbooks. You run a casino, not a law firm.”
