Contented.
That had been the word—the right word...
Me and Mel. Mel and me.
Because it wasn’t just the passion that had seared between them—incandescent though that had been—it was more, oh, so much more than that.
His mind went to his parents. They were always complaining about each other, with lines of discontent, displeasure, disapproval around their mouths, with vicious expressions in their eyes when they spoke to each other, spoke of each other to him.
Nothing, nothing like the way he and Mel had been.
He felt his body tense, every honed muscle engaging, as he stared out of the window—not seeing what was beyond the glass, not seeing anything except a vision of Mel’s face. Beautiful beyond all dreams, but with an expression that was far, far beyond beauty to him. She was smiling at him, with a softness in her eyes, a warmth—an affection that reached out to him and made him want to reach out to her. To cup her face and drop a kiss on the tip of her nose, then tuck her hand in his, warm and secure, and stroll with her, side by side, along the beach, chatting about this or that or nothing at all, easy and happy, contented, towards the setting sun...
All the days of my life...
And into his head, into his consciousness, slowly, like a swimmer emerging from a deep, deep sea, the realisation came to him.
It doesn’t have to be like my parents’ relationship. I don’t have to think that will happen. Mel and I aren’t like that. We’re nothing like that. Nothing!
He could feel the thoughts shaping inside his head, borne up on the emotion rising within him. If that were so, then he could take the risk—should take the risk—the risk he had always feared to take. Because never had he met a woman who could take that fear from him.
As if a fog had cleared from his head, taking away the occluding mist that had clouded his vision all his life, he felt the realisation pierce him.
Mel can—Mel can lift that fear from me.
That was what he had to trust. That was what he had to believe in.
What we had was too good—far too good to let go of. Far too good to cut short, fearing what it might become in years to come. I refuse to believe that she and I would ever become like my parents. I refuse to believe that the time we had together—that brief, inadequate time—couldn’t go on for much longer. Not weeks, or months—but years...
His breath seemed to still in his lungs.
All my days...
For one long, breathless moment he stood there, every muscle poised, and then, as if throwing a switch, he whirled around, turned on his heel and strode back to his desk. His eyes were alight—fired with determination, with revelation, with self-knowledge.
She might not want him—she might be halfway around the world by now—she might turn him down and spurn him, go on her laughing, footloose way, but not before he found her again and put to her the question that was searing in his head now. The question he had to know the answer to...
Snatching up the phone on his desk, he spoke to his secretary.
‘Get me our security agency, please—I need to start an investigation. I need—’ he took a hectic breath ‘—to find someone.’
* * *
The plane banked as it started its descent into Heathrow. Mel felt herself tilting, and again the sensation of nausea rose inside her. She damped it down. It had started when they’d hit a pocket of turbulence mid-Atlantic, but they would be on the tarmac soon—then she’d feel better.
Physically, at least.
Mentally, she didn’t feel good in the slightest. She felt as if a pair of snakes were writhing, fighting within her—two opposing emotions, twisting and tormenting her. Her face tightened. Her features pulled taut and stark. She had an ordeal in front of her. An ordeal she didn’t want but had to endure. Had to face.
This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.
A holiday romance—that was all she’d ever intended Nikos to be. A brief, glorious fling—then off on her travels as she’d planned for so long. Happy and carefree. On her own.
Travels had turned out to be nothing—to be ashes—without Nikos at her side to share them with.
It wasn’t supposed to have been like that...
Missing him so much...
Missing him...missing him all the time—wherever she went, wherever she’d gone. Just wanting to be with him again. Anywhere in the world...so long as it was with him...
How could she have been so unbearably stupid as to walk out on him? He’d asked her to go with him to Athens and she’d refused.
I could have had more time...more time with him...
Yet even as the cry came silently and cruelly within her she heard her own voice answer the one inside her head—even more cruel.