He couldn’t let himself love her, or be with her, but he felt compelled to care for her. To fix things he could fix. To atone for his perceived sins.
And even though it was something she’d fought, out of pride, she knew how much it would have meant to him to be able to liberate her from James. That doing this must have given him some sense of relief. Of pleasure. And so, she let it rest, at least relieved of the burden of owing James anything. Their connections were, finally, severed.
When first Nikos had come to the island, he had seen it as an emotional torture chamber. A place that was cruel and lonely, that would allow him to torment himself with memories of how much he’d once had before him. He’d relished that idea, exposing himself to the elements, to the threat of animal injury, or heaven knew what else.
The very act of surviving had almost been enough to pull him from his grief, and draw him towards life, and light. It had given him a sense of purpose, to find stone for the cabin, to mix mortar and shape the walls. To turn his back on the trappings of his wealthy life and choose the most haunted and isolated of locations. As he’d triumphed over this landscape, he’d felt a renewed connection to himself, to this world. But still, he’d pushed everyone away. Still he’d known he could never deserve another shot at happiness.
He was right to feel that.
Right to stay true to that commitment. Isabella deserved it.
And what of Genevieve?a voice in his head demanded, so he began to hike across the island, forging a path not taken, always listening for animals, gun at his side, but otherwise stalking with confidence towards the crest of the dormant volcano. Stalking away from thoughts of her. Of what he wanted, and could never have.
At the crest of the mountain, he stopped, and finally allowed himself the weakness of looking towards the mainland, his heart throbbing unbearably at the sight in the distance of what would be Katanos. And wondering if Genevieve was still there, achingly close but for ever out of reach for him. Or was she now in America, without his protection, without him?
Far away, geographically, but for ever a part of him, just as he’d promised?
It took every ounce of Genevieve’s willpower to drag herself to another job interview. It was her sixth this week, and while she thought the others had gone well, all of them had said they’d take a few days to ‘think about it’. In the meantime, she hedged her bets. She was conscious of the settlement she’d received from James, and how desperately she wanted to be able to throw it back in his face.
But finding a newspaper who’d take on a journalism major with an almost-four-year career gap wasn’t an easy sell, even with the exceptional letters of recommendation she’d secured from the dean of her alma mater.
It wasn’t the incessant interviewing that was exhausting her, though.
It was desolation.
Desperation.
Depression.
Loneliness.
She felt, most mornings, as though she’d been rammed by a truck. Her whole body ached, as if she had the worst flu in the world. She slept poorly, barely ate, and couldn’t blink without seeing Nikos, exactly as he’d been that first time her eyes had landed on him, stark naked and so heavenly perfect she’d almost wept.
Every minute of every day, she wondered if she’d made a mistake.
If she’d taken him up on his offer, she could at least have known him to be in her life in some capacity. She could have accepted his terms, and known there was at least a chance of seeing him again, of being held by him, made love to by him… Every single part of her ached for him in a way it was difficult to imagine being able to survive.
She’d never known a pain like it. Not with the death of her father, nor her mother, not with James’s cruelty and infidelity, certainly not with their divorce. Every single brick in the path of her life had led her to this moment, but she was still so ill-equipped. Because Nikos had left her by choice. Her father and mother had been taken from her, but with no say in the matter. James had been someone she couldn’t wait to see the back of.
But with Nikos, she’d offered him everything she had, everything she was, and he’d responded with only the parts of himself he felt safe to share. Money. Financial security.
Never love.
No matter how she looked at it, she came back to the same conclusion, time and time again. Nikos was a man who reached out for what he wanted with both hands. If he’d loved herenough, no amount of grief would have stood in his way, no awful past experience with marriage, either. If he’d loved herenough, he’d have given her everything he was, and then some, for the rest of their lives.
But he hadn’t, and that, therefore, was her answer. She just needed to find a way to forget she loved him—or, at least, to live with the pain of it.
He lost track of the days. They came, and went, came and went. He told Theo not to visit the island. He ignored work. Whatever remnants remained of his life.
And he hoped. He hoped Genevieve was okay. He hoped that if she ever needed him, if her ex-husband ever did anything to hurt her, she would reach out via Theo, knowing he would always support her, when she called.
No matter where she was, no matter when it was. No matter if she was single or married, nothing would change the duty he felt to her, the connection he had to her. The compelling need to protect and serve her, to always be a source of strength in her life, even when he himself couldn’t be a part of that life.
Weeks came and went, the weather grew warm, the sun stayed high for longer, showing the shift of seasons, and as it did, his bitterness grew. Worse than he’d ever known it. It enveloped him fully, infusing his body, his bones, his cells, his breath. He could not look out upon this island he’d once loved without seeing Genevieve and thus coming to hate it. Because she wasn’t here. She wasn’t with him. And that had been his choice.
At the time, he’d fully believed it to be the right decision. He believed he’d done what was right for everyone, including Genevieve. How could he trust himself not to break her, as he’d broken Isabella? How could he trust himself not to be someone else she needed to get over? The thought of hurting her after everything she’d been through…
Except he had hurt her. He’d hurt her by offering so little of himself. He’d hurt her by pushing her away even as he told her he loved her. He’d offered her the whisper of a promise, rather than the all-consuming love she rightfully wanted to hold out for.
