Page 87 of Dagger in the Sea

“In the summer, it gets crowded,” she said, “so being here now, having it all to ourselves is wonderful.” Her eyes glimmered as her attentive gaze darted around the small yet high cave, taking in every detail. True, satisfied joy as she moved deeper into the small cave.

I caught up with her and grabbed her, planting a kiss on her wet, cool lips.

Her eyes popped open. “What was that for?”

“You’re so damn happy right now and I wanted a taste of it.”

“The things you say.”

“They’re true.”For you.

I hadn’t had to dissemble with her. I didn’t have to look over my shoulder or over hers or double guess. And I think she didn’t either. It felt odd, liberating.

“Do you mind if we stay here all day?” she asked.

“Is there somewhere else we need to be?”

“We don’tneedto do anything, Turo. ”

“There’s a thought.” I laughed.

“This is our secret getaway. Ours.”

“It is.”

Our eyes melded into each others, and she averted her gaze as she wiped tiny pebbles from her hands. “I ask because not everyone is a beach person,” she said. “And I don’t want this to be tedious for you.”

“There’s nothing tedious about being here with you, Adri. Nothing at all.”

And there wasn’t.

What would I be doing back in Chicago about now?

Grinning and bearing it.

Extinguishing a string of fires.

Agreeing to shit I didn’t want to agree to.

Keeping my head in the game, as I listened to endless bullshit and observed posturing and took mental notes on any weaknesses on display that I could use later.

Putting up with old men who thought they knew better, and young assholes who thought they knew even better.

Standing on street corners waiting for red lights and green lights to change, over-thinking about where else I needed to be and how I had to get there, and where was Ciara.

Ciara?

Nope. Not one thought. Not one. I was in Greece, in Andros. With Adriana.

There was noit’s enough, it’s not enough.Fine.None of that. There was only being here right now with her, sun in our eyes, brisk sea at our feet, cool air nipping over our wet skin, Adri holding up a glossy, long, slim white stone, and me saying, “Can I have it?”

She placed the stone in my hand, and my thumb rubbed over it. Firm silk. Smooth, simple, soothing. I tucked my souvenir of this moment into my small swimsuit pocket.

We howled in the small cave and laughed at our echoes. Lunging back into the water, we let the wild waves swish and swing us around like a crazy amusement park ride. A heavy wave smacked Adri, shoving her to the other end of the shore, and I dove toward her and grabbed her hand. We paddled away from the mouth of the small cave where the brisk sapphire currents collided in a persistent fury.

We swam a few yards farther out where the sea was calmer, and I brought her closer to me. Laughing, she splashed my face and slipped from my hold, and I followed her back to shore where ourfreddoespressos waited for us under the straw-thatched umbrella. The icy brew slid down my dry throat as she sat on her knees on my lounger and rubbed a sunscreen onto my back and shoulders.

I closed my eyes, her firm touch burning into my flesh in the cool breeze, easing the knots of tension I’d probably been holding onto since Chicago. Or was it Evgeny’s boat? Fuck, I always held on to tension.

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