Page 26 of This Loving Feeling (Mirror Lake)

It was as if nothing had changed.

But everything had.

“I had fifty bucks in my pocket when I walked out of town that day. No family, no friends, and no job.”

“I always knew you were special.” She didn’t mean to whisper but the words came out that way. “That you’d become something special.”

“I’m not special. I just work hard.” He touched her face. With just his forefinger, wiping along the path of a tear, staring at her with those Johnny Depp eyes of his. The smooth, icy metal of his rings glanced her cheek. She swallowed hard.

“Hello, dearies! I’m here!” a voice called out from afar.

Mrs.Panagakos was huffing up the gravel drive, dragging her giant purse and another large quilted satchel that looked like she was planning to stay for a week or maybe a month. And carrying a plate of covered food. True Confessions would be over in a minute, thank the Baby Jesus for that.

Lukas glanced at his watch. “Right on time.” He still hadn’t released her hand. “Thanks for helping me, Sam. You didn’t need to do any of this. Especially in light of our ... history.”

Sam swallowed. The light pressure of his long fingers on the top of her hand was causing warm tingles to spread up her arm and to other places she’d rather not think about. That should have made her pull away like he was fire, but she didn’t. Couldn’t.

“Well.” She blew out a sigh. “That was a long time ago. In the past, I mean.” Duh. Could she babble any worse? What did she expect him to say, anyway? Something wild and dramatic like he’d never stopped loving her? Pu-lease.

A little smile slid across his beautiful face, forcing her to remember things best left forgotten. But he didn’t say anything. Maddening, this man was. How was she supposed to get any resolution here if he wouldn’t talk?

“I mean, defining our history as anything besides crisscrossed signals and bad timing would be completely wrong, right?” She hated herself for asking. For wanting to know. But she had to. For her own sake.

Frown lines appeared between his dark brows. The kind that made a woman itch to smooth them out. Lukas cleared his throat. More frowning. “Sam, I—”

“Good morning, good morning, and a beautiful one it is, yes? So, this is how the rich live.” Alethea was dressed in a bright red shift dress and a brimmed straw hat with a red ribbon. She looked toward the lake and squinted in the sun. “A beautiful spring day. Standing up here reminds me of standing on the hills of Santorini, looking out over the sparkling Aegean waiting for my Hercules to come home from the sea.” She waved an arm over the landscape in front of them—hardly the iconic hills and white dotted houses of her dreams—just a sunny day with a pure blue sky, the lake sparking like diamonds and peppered with multicolored boats that from here looked like a child’s Legos. “But he didn’t return to me. My waiting was in vain.”

“Oh, Alethea,” Sam said. “Did he die at sea?”

“Of course not. He left me for another girl with bigger boobs and blonde hair. But it changed my life—made me come here, to America. May I sit down? I take it young Stavros is still asleep? And are there any more eggs, dear?” She uncovered the plate she brought, exposing beautiful rows of perfectly formed spinach and cheese pies. “I broughttiropitesandspanakopites. Have one.”

Lukas jumped up to pull out a chair for Alethea, snagged atiropitafor himself, and jogged into the house to fetch her a plate.

Alethea patted Sam’s hand, the same one Lukas had just touched, while she reached for a cheese pie. “How are you, my dear? You’ve done a kind thing for our Greek boys, but what will your Harris say?”

Sam took a swig of coffee. “I’m sure he’ll be okay with it. It’s only for a few days.” Harris would hate it, hands down. He would kill Lukas. Maybe her, too.

Alethea cocked her head toward the guesthouse. “That man looks at you like Psyche looked at Cupid.”

“Alethea, I swear, you should be teaching drama, not sitting on the committee to save the theater.”

“I just don’t want you to miss out on something.”

Sam raised her brows. “Something, Alethea?” She’d said it like it was dinner. Or those fabulous little pies she’d brought. “I’ve found the guy I love. He’s everything to me. Lukas is all ... smoke and mirrors.”

“Smoking hot, you mean. Maybe he’s changed,glikia mou.Grown up. He certainly cares for Stavros. Perhaps you should give him a chance.”

Sam sighed. Alethea was a romantic, and that had gotten her in big trouble. Her Hercules was a real stinker, from what Effie had told Sam. “Lukas has had a chance, Alethea. Two of them, actually. You do realize the last time I heard from him was six years ago. It’s too late for more chances.”

“It’s not over till it’s over,” Alethea said, her painted black brows arching over her glasses.

Just then, Lukas came out of the house holding two plates and the door for Stevie, who was rubbing his eyes as he followed his uncle. Stevie’s hair was a tousled replica of Lukas’s. The little boy caught sight of Sam and a huge grin stole over his face.

“Hi Samantha,” he said, coming right up to her and accepting her hug. He was warm and cute as pie. He cast a wary glance at Mrs.Panagakos, who was pouring milk in her coffee.

“Don’t forget to say hi to Mrs.P.,”Lukas said.

Stevie complied, but not with enthusiasm. All in all, Sam was amazed at how well behaved he was, considering all he must have been through—an ill and dying mother, and a father incapable of properly caring for him.

---