Page 89 of The Specialist

“What are you thinking, my Sofia?”

“That I’ve never felt such peace.”

From the moment we’d stepped onto the island, we both felt it. The warmth of the sun. The tranquility of the surroundings. The love and welcome of the people here. Former colleagues, now friends. Family. We spent a couple of days simply resting. Soaking up the sun, walking on the beach. Relaxing. Sofia slept constantly, falling asleep every time she sat down, her body catching up on the rest it needed after her ordeal. She felt safe and secure. Surrounded by people who would protect her. Surrounded by me as much as possible.

I slipped my arm around her, pulling her close. “You like it here?”

“I love it.”

“What do you think of the house?”

She was quiet for a moment. “I think it changed everything I thought I wanted from life, Egan.”

I squeezed her hip. “Then why do you sound so worried?”

She stared out over the water, and I let her gather her thoughts. The house was fabulous. Simple, open floor plan. Three bedrooms upstairs. The main floor consisted of the kitchen, dining and living space, plus the studio at the front and another room at the back. All with views that took my breath away. Inspired me.

“I see us here,” she said simply.

“And?”

“It’s not what I planned. I never imagined myself on an island. I’ve only ever lived in a city. Worked in the ER. The hustle and bustle surrounding me. But this”—she indicated the view—“this touches something deep within me.”

“Sometimes what we want changes.”

She slid off the rock and faced me, standing between my legs. “But what do you want, Egan? Matteo tells me there is a clinic and a hospital on the mainland. But you have your gym, your paintings, your perfume…” She trailed off, looking upset. Her eyes were anxious, and I felt her tension.

I cupped her face. “Will you go somewhere with me, iubirea mea?”

“Yes.”

I took her hand, and we headed for the dock. I already had the keys to one of the boats in my pocket. I guided the boat out and headed to the mainland, the short ride exhilarating. I was nervous and excited, all at the same time. Yesterday, when Damien and I had been over, I had found a place I wanted to show Sofia. I was ready for this conversation and pleased it had come up so quickly.

We held hands as we strolled along the streets, the atmosphere so different to what we were used to. The air was fresh and crisp from the ocean. Most people traveled by foot, bicycle, or golf cart. There were some scooters. The few cars around used the main road and parked, the passengers walking around the small town. It hummed with its own energy. People smiled and said hello. The aromas were pungent. Spices, flowers, food.

I stopped in front of a corner building. Sofia looked at it, confused.

“Great windows,” I explained. “For my gallery.”

“Your gallery?”

“Tourists love memories, Sofia. A painting of the area? They would sell like hot pies.”

She glanced at me, a smile tugging on her lips. “Cakes, Egan. Hot cakes.”

I frowned. “That makes no sense. Hot pie is delicious. Hot cakes? Not so much.”

She laughed, and I kissed the end of her nose, loving the sound. I continued.

“This is the perfect place to display them. I could add some local art as well.” I paused. “Did you know Gianna started painting? She showed me some of her canvases. They are incredible. I could sell them for her. Let her have her own identity, yet she can remain private. She needs that.”

I recalled the way her eyes lit up when I asked her. Saw the cautious hope. The smile she exchanged with her husband.

“Tally does beautiful charcoals. I saw some in their house.”

“I know. I plan to talk to her as well.”

She met my eyes. “Is that enough for you?” she asked.