“I—” No. Not that. It was probably just an excuse to get rid of his brother for a little while.
“Hugh says when you reach double digits, you need time for self-care. I think that means putting on clean clothes and under arm deodorant.”
My gaze meets Van’s, and both of us struggle not to laugh.
“Why don’t you go and get changed,” Van suggests, his gaze sliding Archie’s way. “I’ll give you all a tour of the place.”
“No, I don’t—” think that’s a good idea. Is that what I want to say? I feel so conflicted. I know why I’m here. I’m not supposed to be having a good time. I’m not supposed to be making it easy for him.
“It would be best,” Niko adds. “Between the villa and the beach, there’s some very dense bushland. Better to be safe, no?”
“Yes, okay. But can we do it later?”
“Yes, because I’m starved!” Archie announces, rising from the bed like a corpse reanimated.
“Why don’t you go into the kitchen and ask Mary to make you a snack?”
“I can do that?” he asks, lighting up.
“Of course.”
“Whenever I like?”
“I think you should ask your mother before you ask the housekeeper,” he answers, somehow picking up on my anxiety.
“Right, but I can go now?” he says as his legs slide from the bed. “Because you already said so.” Archie’s attention flicks between Niko and me. “He did, Mummy.”
“Yes, darling. That’s fine.”
“And then can you take us to the pool, Uncle Van?”
“I’m sure Uncle Van has lots of things he needs—”
“Of course. Go get your swim shorts and your brother.”
“Yay!” Archie does an excited little skip. “Best day ever!”
I want to be cross. I want to say ‘I see what you’re doing’ but I can’t quite manage it. The boys get so little attention from their father, and I know they feel that lack. When we were together, I was able to counteract it. What they didn’t get from him, I’d try to make it up with my love. But now we’re no longer together, I can’t be there to fill that void. When they spend the odd weekend with him, he might take them to the cinema, but more often than not, they just watch TV while he does ‘business things.’ But it’s not about where they go or what they do, it’s the fact that he seems to have so little interest in them. I know they feel it, my lovely, kind, perceptive little men.
Niko isn’t their father, and marriage or not, that’ll never change. But these moments in the sun; Arsenal Football Club, birthday cake, and so on, I can’t deny them.
“Are you coming with us?” From his position in the doorway, Niko watches me.
“To the pool?” I glance back at my suitcase. “I suppose that depends on whether Holland has packed my swimsuit. Honestly, I’m not even sure if I own one,” I add distractedly.
I turn, Niko’s voice suddenly much closer. “Agent Provocateur?”
I glance down, realizing what I have in my hands. “It’s not—” what you think it is? Not meant for you? “Holland packed it.”
“For your wedding night.” He’s looking at me like he’s a starving man and I’m a hearty meal.
“That doesn’t mean she approves.”
“While we don’t need her approval,” he says, slipping the nightgown from my hand, “I think she might secretly be Team Van.”
“Because she’s confusing you with my brother,” I retort, ignoring the curl to his words. “He adores her, and why wouldn’t he? She’s not a middle-aged harridan with a couple of kids.”
“Keep going, milaya.” He presses his hands to my shoulders and the silk drops like a theater curtain. “Who knows,” he adds, his words becoming a little rough around the edges, “you might actually find something to turn me off.”
I don’t answer. I can’t. Because when he touches me, heat spreads across my skin like wildfire.
“But don’t count on it,” he whispers, his hands cradling my cheeks. “I do it again, I won’t pretend there’s nothing between us. Tiptoe around to protect other’s feelings. For the sake of your safety, for the sake of my sanity, like it or not, you will marry me.”
“I don’t like it,” I whisper.
He presses his lips to my head as he whispers, “Stop lying to yourself.”
33
Isla
“Holland,” I whine, “why would you do this to me?”
I stare at myself in the mirror, angry and sweaty, and wanting to crawl out of my skin. The boys have gone ahead with ‘Uncle Van’ having decided they were far too excited for sunshine and adventure to wait for me. Which is just as well as after seeing what Holland has packed for me, I might not leave my room until it’s time to go home.
“So much skin on show.” I pinch the flesh at my hip then readjust the tie of my bikini bottoms. Yes, string. “There was a perfectly acceptable one-piece in the drawer,” I mutter. “Why couldn’t you have packed that?” Instead, she’d packed the bright red string bikini I’d bought after Tom had moved out and moved onto women half my age. She also included a brand new one-piece suit I’ve ever seen before, but it’s cut so high at the bottom and so low cut at the top, it’s actually more indecent that the tiny red triangles I’m (barely) wearing.