Her heart squeezed. She wanted that too, more than she could say. She refused to look at Santos.
Everything was different. Even the way they’d made love the night before had been different. Slower, more explorative, as if they’d both been committing every single detail of each other to memory. It had been a goodbye, an act of passion filled with finality. It was the last time they’d be together.
She’d woken early, slipped from his room, showered and dressed, already mentally imagining herself back in England, in her own home, far from Santos Anastakos and his seductive way of life.
‘She can’t, Cameron. Miss Ashford was good
enough to spend her holidays with you but now it’s time for her to leave.’
The coldness in his words was for Cameron’s benefit but it only added to the excruciating minefield she was navigating.
‘Then I want to go with her.’ His little face assumed a truculent expression. ‘I want to go home.’
Now she did look at Santos and saw a dark emotion in the depths of his eyes. Neither of them had predicted this. ‘You have so much to look forward to, darling. You’re going to love your new school, and make so many new little friends.’
‘I like my old school and my old friends. I like you. I want to go home. I want to go home!’ He burst into tears, tears that broke Amelia’s heart. He hadn’t had an outburst like this in weeks. She wrapped her arms around him, drawing him into a bear hug, holding him right where he was. She wanted to give into a similar breakdown, but didn’t. For Cameron, she held it together.
‘I’m sorry,’ was all she could say, and she meant it from the depths of her heart. She was sorry for all that this little boy had lost. The years he’d missed out on having a father in his life because of a decision his mother had made, then the sudden loss of a mother he’d adored and now the terrifying new start that was before him.
‘Do you remember what I told you when we first came to Greece?’
He shook his head, his eyes still overflowing with tears.
‘I told you that every night, when you look up in the sky, I’ll be looking up at it too. And we’ll see the same stars, and we can smile and wave at each other, and you’ll know that I’m thinking about you and you’re thinking about me. Deal?’
But his lips formed a belligerent frown. ‘Please don’t go.’
A tear slid out of her eye. She wiped it away discreetly as she stood. ‘I have to.’ That was firmer, her ‘strict teacher’ voice. She pressed a hand to his shoulder, squeezing it gently. ‘You be a good boy for your daddy, okay?’
Cameron’s response was muffled.
Santos crouched down, his eyes at Cameron’s height. ‘Why don’t you go get your shoes on and this afternoon we can go to the very top of the Eiffel Tower?’
‘Without Amelia?’
Santos’s jaw tightened. ‘The view is exceptional. Go and get your shoes.’
Cameron hovered for a moment and then turned on his heel, half-running into his room and slamming the door.
Amelia startled. ‘He’ll be okay.’
Santos’s head jerked in silent agreement and his eyes locked to hers for a moment that filled her with a whole new type of pain. He began to walk towards the door, his stride long. Amelia moved more slowly, aware that every step brought her closer to the end of this.
Everything inside her was pulling, tightening, making her ache in her entire body. Her heart was screaming at her to say something, to suggest they have one more night together, but it was too late for that even if she’d wanted to. She and Santos were consenting adults who’d gone into this with their eyes wide open but Cameron didn’t deserve to have his little heart broken any more than it already had been.
They’d agreed this would be the end of it; they had to stick to that.
At the door, she lifted the handle of her suitcase, propping it to her side. ‘Leo will take you to the airport.’
‘I would have been happy to take the train.’
His smile seemed distracted. Was he already wishing she’d leave? Planning how he’d fill his nights when she was no longer around? The idea activated her pride; she wouldn’t let him know how hard she was finding this. ‘It’s a door-to-door service.’ He lifted a hand then, cupping her cheek, running his finger over her lips so she closed her eyes and inhaled, breathing him in. Every fibre of her being was shouting at her to say something. But what?
‘Thank you.’ Her heart exploded. ‘For everything.’
He lifted his other hand, cupping her face. ‘I am the one who should thank you, Amelia. I won’t forget you.’ His eyes were earnest, his voice throaty. She believed him. But that didn’t change the fact he’d also replace her swiftly, as was his habit, and never contact her again.
Her stomach rolled; her heart splintered. She had to get out of there. ‘Take care of him, okay?’