We’d finished our coffees and Julian was tidying up when I broached the real reason I was there.
‘Uh, Jules?’
He shut the dishwasher and lifted his head. ‘Yes?’
‘I need your help… It seems I might be in a bit of a pickle.’
‘Oh? Well, tell me. You know I’d do anything for you.’
15
Thought of the day…
Prepare for difficult conversations – know what you want to say and how you’ll say it.
(Practise on your pet.If you don’t have one, a potted plant will do.)
Leaving Julian’s, my mind was abuzz – and it wasn’t the sugar rush from thebougatsa. I’d planted the seed. Now I just needed to wait.
And telling him I was in a pickle hadn’t been a complete lie – I’d just left out the part where the pickle was Aetheria. Which, as it turned out, was the right move. Because Julian’s advice? Cut ties with this dubious partner.
Meaning, I should walk away from Aetheria.AndJulian.
Exactly as Tommy had said.
I was rounding a bend in the path, chewing on my dilemma, when a hand darted out, grabbing my wrist and tugging me into the bushes.
‘Will youpleasestop doing that?’ I hissed.
‘I thought you were leaving the island,’ Tommy retorted.
‘Well, that was a bold assumption. I never said that. In fact, I’m extending my stay.’ I glowered at him so he’d understand just how serious I was.
‘Extending your st—’ He stopped himself, muttering under his breath.
‘You don’t get to be frustrated with me. I didn’t ask to be brought here – and I certainly wouldn’t have come if I’d knownyou’dbe here.’
From his wounded expression, the jibe had hit its mark.Good – after his disappearing act last night, he deserves to feel a little sting.
Looking back, that barb was me re-buckling my armour – but in the moment it felt satisfying.
‘Just— just be careful.’
‘Yoube careful. All this sneaking about.’ I flapped my hand to demonstrate. ‘Someone’s bound to see you and start asking questions.’
‘Oh, you don’t need to worry about me,’ he growled.
How was I supposed to respond to that? I mean, in a way he was right. It had been years since Tommy was any of my concern.
We stared at each other for several beats, then he broke eye contact and backed away. Like Homer Simpson disappearing into the hedge. Only hot.
I turned in the other direction, swatting at branches to get back to the path. ‘Apparently, I should have packed a machete for my Greek Island getaway!’ I muttered to myself.
I hid behind a branch that was bursting with pink flowers and peeked out in both directions. No one coming, so I stepped out from the bushes as if it was a perfectly normal thing to do, then headed off towards the spa.
My appointment wasn’t for half an hour, but I’d happily wait – especially if I could change into a robe, put my feet up, and sip some herbal tea.
As I neared the spa, still partially in a tizz, the air grew redolent of lemon and thyme.
