He made a sound of surprise. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I was in a deeply unhappy marriage. I was young and naïve when I met James, and I let him sweep me up utterly and completely into all that he promised. But it was a terrible mistake. You know what I did?’
Nikos reached for his own wine then, taking a sip, before he replaced it on the table and took a triangle of bread, spreading it generously with taramasalata then putting it on Genevieve’s plate.
‘Eat,’ he said, not even trying to keep the tone of command from his voice.
She glared at him. ‘Do you know what I did?’
He looked pointedly at the bread so with a dramatic huff she lifted it to her mouth and took a bite. And despite the tenor of their conversation, his eyes clung to her mouth, her sweet pink lips, as she chewed and swallowed. He looked away abruptly, barely able to focus on what they’d been discussing.
‘I left him,’ she said, eventually. ‘It was hard, and I had to basically sign my life away to get out, but I did it. Because I realised I couldn’t live the rest of my days like that. So unless there was something you were holding over Isabella’s head, making it impossible for her to leave, unless you were making promises you had no intention of keeping, then I think you can safely assume she stayed because no matter what, she wanted to. Because she loved you.’
‘Yes, she loved me,’ he spat. ‘But I made her miserable. Loving me ruined her life.Ishould have lefther.’
‘You don’t think that would have ruined her life, too?’
‘Then I should never have married her.’
‘Perhaps, but you did. I can only presume you loved her, as well.’
He stopped then, dropping his gaze to his plate as he thought of Isabella as she’d been then. When they’d both been young and carefree. ‘Yes,’ he said, simply. ‘I loved her, but not how she loved me. Not enough. I did want to make her happy. It just turned out that there were other things I wanted more.’
Genevieve’s sympathetic expression had his gut turning.
‘Please, don’t pity me.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I don’t want it, least of all from you.’
‘I feel like there’s an insult in there.’
‘I don’t deserve it from you.’
‘Please don’t let me become something else you beat yourself up about,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘You didn’t do anything wrong, Nikos. Even not telling me about Isabella was your prerogative. We were clear about the nature of our relationship from the outset. Just because I opened up to you didn’t obligate you to do the same to me.’
‘You were upset.’
‘Yes, I was, but both things can be true at once.’
He quirked a brow.
‘I was upset you hadn’t told me about Isabella, but at the same time, it wasn’t your fault. It’s just…one of those things.’
‘When you told me about your husband, and how selfish he was, all I could think was that I could give you something special. Something joyous. When you told me he’d never given you pleasure, I ached to offer that to you.’
‘And you did,’ she said, before her eyes widened and then blinked away. ‘Because of her,’ Genevieve said. ‘It was never really about me, was it?’
He frowned, trying to work back what he’d said.
‘You are so torn apart by what you perceive you failed to give your wife that you thought you could make some sort of amends with me. Right?’
He found it hard to draw breath. He thought about denying it, but why? She was right. He had sought penance, in Genevieve. ‘Two birds, one stone.’
She let out a low whistle and then glanced over his shoulder.
‘Do you know those people?’
