“Then why not—,”
“Has Leonidas told you about our sister?” Thanasi asked with a look of intensity that bore into Mila’s soul. She nodded slowly.
“After Val, nothing was the same. We were only children then, but the fabric of our family was shredded. Our parents changed. Everything was different. For years, we knew, though it was never discussed, that we couldn’t be happy or excited about anything. We grew up in the same environment, we understand each other uniquely, but sometimes, I think the memories of what we lost, and of what that loss cost us, make it too hard to move forward.”
Sadness cut through Mila.
“It was worst of all for Leonidas. They were twins, and very close. After Val died, my father, in particular, found it hard to be around Leo. He reminded dad too much of Val.”
Mila’s heart tightened, and then seemed to splinter. “I would have thought it would be the opposite. Surely Leo reminding everyone of her was a good thing?”
“Grief is not logical,” he said with a lift of his shoulders. “My father grieved by pretending Val had never existed. That was a lot harder to do when Leo was around.”
“That paints a pretty awful picture. I can’t imagine your mum ostracizing Leonidas.”
“No. My mother has always adored him.”
“She’s a very kind woman.”
“Yes.”
“Did your father blame himself in some way?”
“Of course.”
“Was he responsible?”
“Only in that he bought a house with a pool,” Thanasi said, shaking his head. “Valentina, may she rest in peace, was as stubborn as anyone you’ve ever known. If she wanted to swim, heaven help anyone who told her ‘no’.”
“Nonetheless, the grief must have been quite redefining. For all of you.” She looked up at him, thinking, dispassionately, how handsome he was. And yet, he stirred no feelings within her, no sentiment, no sense of want or need. It was the complete opposite to what she felt whenever Leonidas was nearby. Even just conjuring his face in her mind made her skin lift with goosebumps.
“Are you cold?”
So, he was as observant as Leonidas as well.
“A little,” she lied, rather than admitting the truth. He shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to her.
“Thank you.” She wrapped it around her shoulders, noting the fragrance—pine and citrus. Objectively nice, but it didn’t set her pulse racing.
“I used to love coming down here as a boy.” He gestured to the beach. “For a long time, it was forbidden. After Val, our parents were terrified of any body of water, so I had to sneak out when they were asleep. I loved to swim.”
“I can see the appeal. The coastline is beautiful.”
“Yes.”
“And completely private.”
“It was one of the reasons our father bought this property.” He turned to face her, the moon cutting like a silver blade across his face. “He wasn’t as distant as I’ve made him seem,” Thanasi said after a pause. “He would take us on holidays, each year, to a little town in Italy, where we’d fish and live very simply, eating only what we’d caught or foraged. Having grown up poor, he never wanted us to become complacent with wealth. He had values he wanted to impart to us.”
“I think we’re rarely one thing or another,” she said with a lift of her shoulders. “Most humans are bundles of contradictions, good and bad, most of the time.”
“Why do I get the feeling that you are solely good, Mila?”
She lifted her brows. “That’s not possible, for anyone.”
“Are you saying you have a deeply buried mean streak?” He teased, and she laughed, because it was so absurd.
“I’m saying someone can be distant but still love you. One thing doesn’t necessarily mean the other.”