CHAPTER 20
Claudette
Michael had plannedthe Santorini trip for months, tracking my progress in physical therapy like he was monitoring stock prices. The second Maria cleared me for travel, he pulled up flight options on his laptop, trying to look casual while clearly vibrating with suppressed excitement.
“We don’t have to go immediately,” he’d said, hovering over the “book now” button. “If you need more time?—”
“Book it.” I grabbed his hand before he could overthink it.“I want to see white buildings and blue water and eat food I can’t pronounce.”
He’d booked it before I finished the sentence.
Now I stood on a balcony overlooking the Aegean Sea, watching sunset turn everything gold, and couldn’t remember why I’d ever been afraid of anything. The water stretched endless below our hotel, boats drifting like toys across the surface. Behind me, Michael was on a call with his grandfather, his voice edged with exasperation. Turned out his grandfather was incredibly interested, wanting to hear about our trips in full detail.
I took a photo, capturing the moment on his face before time could run away with it. Just because the light was beautiful on his face and I wanted to remember this exact moment.
My phone buzzed.
Pauline
How’s Greece? Send photos immediately. I need to live vicariously through your European vacation while I’m stuck in chasing stories.
Claudette
*selfie with the sunset with an absolutely smug smile*
She sent another text immediately, and I laughed reading it.
Pauline
I hate you. That’s gorgeous.
I pocketed my phone as Michael appeared beside me, call finished, shaking his head.
“What did he want this time?”
“To know if you’ve tried the honey cake from the specific bakery he circled on the map he made us.” He wrapped his arms around me from behind. “And whether we’ve taken a photo in front of the windmills yet. “And if I’ve told you you’re beautiful at least three times today because—and I quote—‘a woman needs to hear these things, Michael, don’t be stingy with your words.’”
“I love him.”
His chin rested on my shoulder, his breath warm against my neck. “He also asked if I’m being romantic enough. Apparently he has concerns.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I’m doing my best but I’ll accept notes.”
I turned in his arms, his hands settling at my waist. “For the record, you’re being very romantic. The windmill photo, the honey cake, telling me I’m beautiful?—”
“I’ve only said it twice today. I’m behind schedule.”
“Better fix that.”
He leaned in close, his nose brushing mine. “You’re beautiful.”
“That’s three.”
“You’re beautiful,” he said again, kissing my forehead.
“Now you’re just showing off.”
