Stefanos gestures at the platter, and I take a small plate and cloth napkin he’s set out and serve up some appetizers. He has a talent for plating food in an artful way. Before long, he pulls out small spanakopitas out from the oven and has made a tomato salad.
“This is great, thanks. Though I don’t know how we’re going to eat all this.” I marvel at the spread of food between us on the island.
He perches next to me. “Have as much or as little as you like. It’s good to have plenty to choose from.”
Naturally, I insist on trying everything. A blissful sigh escapes me. “I could live like this.”
“This is nothing. You should try Greece in summertime when we have more fruit and vegetables in season.”
“Let me tell you, a Greek winter tomato is far more tasty than a London one.”
He laughs with delight.
That’s when my phone chimes in my pocket. I hesitate.
“It’s okay,” Stefanos says. “I don’t mind.”
“Sorry, it could be important. There’s a few things going on. Not to say that this isn’t important?—”
He waves me off, and I check my message. It’s not any of the people who might message me, like Ethan for work stuff or Mamma checking in or even James with another tabloid reveal. It’s far worse.
Aidan.
Chapter Fourteen
I scowl down at my phone, the reaction instant. Aidan’s got some special sense about the perfect time to mess things up further. Like a homing pigeon who returns to roost on negative press.
Sorry mate the tabloids got out of hand I didn’t mean it maybe we should talk x
“Fucking hell.” The words fall out before I can shove them down as I continue to frown at my phone’s betrayal for letting me even receive this text. In all the chaos, I didn’t block Aidan’s number. Which obviously was a mistake.
I shove my phone away.
There’s a question in Stefanos’ eyes, but he’s too polite to ask. Instead, he focuses on the meal, and I try to forget all about Aidan. When we sit on the sofa with some wine, I finally confess.
“That was Aidan. My ex. Sorry to get upset.”
His eyebrows climb. “The same Aidan behind your, er, media coverage?”
“Ugh. Yeah. That one. The very same.” I sigh.
“You’re not going to respond?”
“We’ll see. I don’t think he deserves a response after what he did. I mean, I don’t want to go on about it.”
“Hardly. I would be upset too if my ex-boyfriend went to the press about me.”
“It’s not just that.” I falter. “He broke up with me by text. On our six-month anniversary, like he’d been planning this. It’s all too well orchestrated, the timing of his interview, to be coincidental.”
Stefanos gives me a sympathetic look. His face softens. “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.” I quickly look away and refocus on my wine. I take a long sip. “In hindsight, I should have picked a better boyfriend.”
“You didn’t know he was going to do that when you started dating, right?” Stefanos points out.
“I guess. Feels like I should have known, though.”
“How could you have known?” Stefanos asks. “You hadn’t dated him before.”
