Page 126 of All We Need

Lydia, with her keen ears, beams at us excitedly. “What’sfunny?”

“I callAly‘Silver,’ though she didn’t like it at first.”

“Silly girl.Shehas never been good at taking compliments,” her mom teases and winks at her daughter. “AlessandraistheSilverGoddess.Argirosmeans ‘silver’ in ancientGreek—the hotel opened the same year she completed our family.”Shestudies how close we’re sitting before nodding eloquently. “Alovely coincidence.”

“You don’t say.”WhenIdivert my gaze to the woman beside me, she chews her lip, gaze trained on her empty plate.Myhand finds hers under the table, and when those silver eyes stare at me, all the noise and people around us fall away. “Aperfect coincidence.”

We walkAly’sparents back to her apartment.Theyhave an early flight tomorrow and her mom was more than happy to suggestAlystay with me again.Ithink she and my mom would get on like a house on fire.

Aly and her dad are busy chatting about an upcomingproject whenI’mwrestled into the surprisingly strong arms ofLydia.

“Thank you for seeing her heart.”Shecups my chin, smiling at me warmly. “Iagápi íne san ton ánemo; den borís na ti dis, alá borís na ti niósis.”

I laugh when she releases me. “I’msorry,Idon’t speakGreek,Mrs.Argiros.”

“Lydia, sweet boy.”Witha pat on my cheek, she whispers, “Youwill know what it means soon enough.”

Too stumped to reply,Istep back, givingAlyspace to say farewell to her parents.Whenthey disappear into her apartment, she wilts.Ina flash,I’mthere, caging her in my arms.

“I have a little surprise for you.”

She shivers against me. “Isit in your pants?”Herhips push back. “Ifso, it really isn’t a surprise.Orlittle.”

Groaning,Ibite the soft flesh below her ear, drawing a squeal from her. “Makethattwosurprises.”

Twisting her upper body, she peers up at me. “Areyou going to tell me what my mom said?”

Chuckling,Ilead her down the street, back still pressed to my front, waddling together like penguins. “IwishIcould.SomethinginGreek.”

“Oh god.She’sinsufferable.”

“Aren’t they all?”

Left.Right.Left.Right.

Our legs work in tandem.Alygiggles as we make our way downRobinRoad.Onceinside my house,Iflick the lights on and jerk my head toward the coffee table. “Golook.”

She narrows her eyes before wandering over.Bendingat the hips, she inspects the contents of the tableIlaid out earlier. “Paintby numbers?”

My cheeks flame asIstand next to her. “Okay, so your mom mentioned you haven’t done much painting since you got hereand…”Isquint at the ceiling. “It’sno grisaille,but it could be fun.”

She watches me, eyes glowing in the dim lighting before she says sardonically, “Oh, sweetie, you said it right.”Shefakes wiping away a tear.

“Har.Har.”Igrip the back of my neck and grimace. “It’sdumb, isn’t it?I’llgive it toLottie.”

Delicate fingers walk up my front, slink over my chest, then curl around my jaw. “Don’tdo that.”Sheglances at the paint kit. “Ilove it.”

Her smile is too powerful.Thehappiness that erupts over her face has my white flag waving.Iamdone.Youwin,Aly.Nowgive me all of you.

“So you’ll paint for me?”

Her gaze roams my face.

In this moment,IfeelAly’strust.She’sshared detailsIknow she doesn’t give freely and being trusted with them is major.Somethingabout the lightness in her voice, the freeness in her touch, and the secret smile that isn’t so secretive anymore is pivotal.This.Thisis trust.

It’s tangible.Heavylike granite and delicate as silk.Tohave it is to cherish it.

The tip of her nail sends a shiver through my bones as she traces the contours of my face. “HowaboutIpaint you?”

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