“No, the break up was actually reasonably civilised. No throwing of glasses, no shouting.” Just a tonne of heartbreak and misery.
“But you didn’t want to end it?”
“I was the one who did,” she said quietly. “But no. I didn’t want it to end. It was inevitable, though, so I thought I’d rather bite the bullet than not.”
“How pragmatic of you.”
Her smile was wry. “Thank you.” She finished her martini, the rush going immediately to her head. “I’ll fly out tomorrow too,” she said with a sigh. “I might as well get home and face the music.”
“Is he in Athens?”
“No.”
“Then at least you won’t have to see him.”
“True.” But God, what she wouldn’t have given to see Samir again. She ached to hold him.
“You know what I’ve learned over the years, Cora?”
“Go on, you wise old sage,” she said with a lift of her brow.
“Misery is a part of life. It’s better to embrace it. Don’t fight it. Wallow. You almost come to enjoy it.”
She narrowed her eyes, studying him carefully. “Really? That’s your advice to me?”
He grinned, a rare sight indeed. “Sure. Why not? Just for now. I’m sure you’ll get over it soon enough.”
Two martinis and many hours later, Cora woke with a dull headache, a strange taste in her mouth, and a neck ache courtesy of having curled up on Dimitrios’s sofa rather than making her way to one of the many guest rooms.
Dimitrios was already up, his tolerance for alcohol far superior to hers, making coffee and cooking something that smelled heavenly.
“Hungry?”
Her stomach gave a little swirl, but it could have been from the alcohol as much as hunger. “I don’t know,” she said dubiously. “What are you cooking?”
“Waffles and bacon.” He flicked her a glance. “Trust me, you’ll love it.”
She lifted her hands in surrender. “But first, coffee?”
“Of course.” He handed one to her. “Here’s one I made earlier.” He wiggled his brows.
She took a drink. “What time are you leaving?”
“The jet’s on standby now. Probably a couple of hours.” He shrugged.
“Where’s the funeral?” She asked, standing and walking into the kitchen to study the waffle making in progress.
“The funeral has already happened. This is more of a memorial service.”
She nodded. “Where?”
“Al Medina.”
Cora’s breath hitched in her throat, almost choking her. She coughed but it didn’t help, then sipped her coffee.
“Cora?”
“I’m sorry, did you say—,”