Obviously.
What if he takes one look at her and gently, but firmly, sends her away?
What if less than a week was enough time to convince him that he absolutely made the right choice, to leave her behind and not look back?
Because he hasn’t.
Looked back.
No texts, no calls.
Nothing.
Not that she expected him to.
And now she’s here, but nothing’s changed.
Maybe that’s the problem.
Maybe she’s been looking at it all wrong this whole time.
Their circumstances haven’t changed, but does that matter?
What they choose to do from here on out . . . that’s what matters.
She’s through customs and in a cab on the way to her hotel when a plan finally settles into her mind.
It’s risky. Really risky, but what does she have to lose at this point?
The hotel is really nice, which makes sense since Frankie booked it too. She’s going to pay her back for all of this. That money her parents gave her is just sitting in her accounts and if she’s going to accept the help with the house, this is too much. There’s a view of the Parthenon in the distance, on the Acropolis rising high above the city.
She sends a text to her group chat still namedB’s Bridal Bitchesand lets them know she’s there and safe, and the responses come in immediately that she needs to go out right now and find him.
And then, another message, right after, from Miranda.
It’s a location.
—Athens 105 58
And then another.
—Tell him I told him so.
She clicks on it and it’s . . . only a four-minute walk and on the map it’s . . . what she’s looking at just outside her window.
He’s there now, somewhere in the distance.
Okay, it’s time.
Now or never.
Chapter 21
Xavier hears her before he sees her. Her voice has a different lilt to it when she’s speaking in rapid Greek, accented he’s sure, still way better than his, but he’d recognize her voice anywhere. She’s arguing with someone and he knows that tone, the one that says she’s not going to be stopped. So it doesn’t shock him when less than a minute later, her voice is getting closer – mere yards away when he finally turns to look, afraid that if he does, she’ll just be a figment of his imagination.
Wiping at the sweat on his forehead with a handkerchief he keeps in his back pocket, Xavier squints up at the blistering sun. Maybe he is hearing things. It’s unseasonably hot for late May, climbing up into the nineties and the humidity not much lower, but despite the heat, sturdy boots and long pants are a must on an active worksite. Evidence of their work is everywhere as they try to keep ahead of the ancient ruins’ continuous descent into actual ruin.
He doesn’t see her, not right away, but when he does, she’s not much more than a silhouette and he has to shield his eyes from the sun behind her. And as his vision clears, she’s there and somehow more beautiful than when he left her less than a week ago. A white romper hugs her curves and ties behind her neck, exposing her back when she turns to continue talking herway out of trouble from the guide berating her for ignoring him. Her skin is glowing, her hair down, curls everywhere, and she’s wearing those wedged sandals that are a complete death wish on the uneven ground beneath her feet.
