No.
I won’t allow it. I want her. I want the wedding night we should have had, the one I deprived us of, along with three years’ worth of lost nights.
Somehow, I have to find a way to make Harper want to stay.
Chapter 22
Harper
This is the first summer anyone from Jayson’s family came to the island since the jet crashed three years ago. It’s been even longer since I set foot on the soft, white sand of the beaches here, but it’s Sophie I worry about. On the flight to the island, she was calmer than either I or Jayson expected. The last time she’d flown that route, the plane crashed. And poor Sophie was the sole survivor.
I’ve been trying to keep her attention focused anywhere but the travel. Being on the island has to bring back overwhelming memories. How could it be any different?
Our conversations mostly revolve around college, because Sophie’s so excited about it. I’m excited for her too, of course. I’m happy knowing she’s not such a little girl anymore. But if I’m honest, it does hurt a little knowing I’m not needed for much longer.
Sure, I might be too young to be Sophie’s mother, but I’ve acted the role for the past three years. Some of it has sunk in.
The one shining light about Sophie becoming more independent is that this means the sham marriage to Jayson is coming to an end.
Finally, I can get on with my life and build a new one. I just want to find a man to hold me in his arms at night and warm my empty bed. I might even have babies of my own, one day. The thought of that, at least, lessens the sting of Sophie growing up.
I ignore the small voice in the back of my head that whispers a suggestion for the as-yet-unknown husband. Someone with nearly black eyes and the longest lashes ever. I turn my attention to Sophie, putting my arm around her waist. She’s too tall now for me to sling an arm around her neck like I used to do. “Are you okay?”
Sophie nods and smiles bravely, though there are traces of sadness on her face. “I’d forgotten how beautiful the island is.”
“Me too.” A collection of elegant, ancient buildings line the hills of the island leading up to the summit, where one villa stands alone—the Satyros home. Together, we walk across the sand from the landing strip, toward the waiting car. The villa is a couple of miles away, but even from this distance, it’s visible. Up close, it’s even more magnificent, with pale walls and a red tiled roof. The grounds are immaculate, and I can’t wait to explore it and dig my fingers into the earth. I miss the feel of soil between my fingers, though Jayson’s never been too keen about me gardening. When I asked about making a small garden at his New York home, he coldly pointed out more d
uties to keep me busy, leaving no time for such things. A few indoor houseplants in my room had to do. Succulents, a leggy pothos, and an orchid that I was waiting to bloom had to be enough.
Sophie slides into the car first, and I go after her. A sound of surprise escapes me when Jayson sits down beside me, instead of taking the seat across from us. When he makes no move, I scoot closer to Sophie. He follows. Gritting my teeth, I tell myself the ride will be over quickly.
The black car whisks us up the winding hill to the villa. Sophie rolls down her window and the scent of tropical flowers makes my nostrils flare. Breathing deeply, the clean, male scent of Jayson teases my nose. I turn my head away from him and lean closer to the open window. At least until I realize my butt is even closer to Jayson, and I jump back as though his touch burns. In a way, it does.
It burns me to have him so close, infringing upon my space.
Liar, whispers that annoying voice, which I quickly quash.
“Would you like to hang your head out the window, Harper? Maybe let the breeze flap your tongue?” teases Jayson.
I shoot him a glare and soon we pull up the driveway, parking in front of the villa. Jayson is the first out, and I breathe a sigh of relief that his presence isn’t tormenting me any longer. The relief is short-lived, however, because he pauses, reaching in to offer me a hand out as the driver comes around to let out Sophie. “I can manage,” I say through gritted teeth as I swing my legs out the door.
“It’s no trouble.” He overrides my objection by grasping my hand and giving me a gentle tug. My momentum shifts, sending me sprawling forward, straight into Jayson’s arms.
“A simple thank you would have sufficed.” His lips twitch, but he doesn’t smile. I’d like to think my hot glower helped make that decision.
I jerk upright, straighten my spine, and step away from him. “Thank you for making me stumble,” I say as coldly as I can manage, then turn away from him. To my annoyance, he laughs softly.
Irina comes bustling out of the villa. The housekeeper has to be over sixty by now, but she’s still at her post. In a shower of Greek, Irina sweeps Sophie into a big hug, her larger girth swallowing up the girl’s smaller frame. After a moment, Sophie fights her way free, and Irina moves on to Jayson. I can’t hide my pleasure at the way the older woman engulfs him in one of her massive hugs. When she releases him, she pats his face and speaks lovingly in Greek.
I slip by them, surprised when Irina touches my arm. I turn to smile at the older woman and find myself wrapped in her arms. I’ve known Irina from other visits, but it’s been years, and she’s never greeted me with a big hug before.
“Ah, Kyria Satyros, welcome. The last time I saw you, you were younger than Miss Sophie.”
I shake my head as best I can with Irina’s hands framing my face. “I think I was seventeen.” It was the summer before Sophie’s mother died, the year I developed a huge crush on Jayson. Thank goodness I’m over that.
“You have become a beautiful woman, Kyria Satyros. I can see why Mr. Jayson married you.”
My cheeks burn, and I look anywhere but at Jayson. “Please call me Harper, Irina.”