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I glance up at my husband. “For what”
“Getting me out. Doing something different.”
“You’re welcome.”
Between the sun and the swimming and the emotional wringing I’ve put myself through, I suddenly want nothing more than to get up to my room, rinse off, and then soak in the Jacuzzi tub until lunch.
“What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
“I hadn’t thought much beyond a shower.”
“What do you say to another boat ride?”
I smile. “As much as I enjoyed diving, I’m not up for another dive trip.”
“Not diving. An afternoon on a yacht.”
“A yacht?” I repeat.
“With who?”
“Me.”
My heart skips the beat. “You know how to sail a yacht?”
“It helps that it’s powered,” Rafe says with a smile.
I want to say yes. Or rather, my heart does. My brain is still screaming for me to step back.
“Why did you change your mind?”
“Because I don’t know how much time we have left,” he finally says.
His admission hits me hard. We’re both thinking the same thing. That after last night, there is no reason left for me to stay. The sense of loss even just thinking about leaving tells me that it is probably time to go.
Just a little more time, my heart whispers. Just a little more.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Tessa
THE YACHT ISa catamaran, with living quarters strung between the two hulls and a massive white sail stretching toward the horizon. It’s a stunning boat with a lounge deck up top, complete with the plump pillows for sunbathing. The main deck boasts the galley with an outdoor dining space, the rails lined with more lounges and cushions. And down below, an en suite with a cozy bed and walk-in shower.
I lift my head from where I’m sitting on the sundeck to watch Rafe at the wheel just a few feet below me. As in everything he does, he looks confident, at ease with his surroundings even as his eyes constantly sweep the horizon.
“When did you take up sailing?”
“Two years ago.” He glances up at me, his eyes shielded by his sunglasses. “The CEO of a business I wanted to acquire was an avid sailor.” He gestures to the yacht. “So I bought it, took lessons, and when he came to Greece, I took him out on the yacht.”
My jaw drops. “You bought a yacht and learned how to sail just make a business deal happen?”
He smirks up at me. “It worked.”
I watch his hands expertly move the wheel as he navigates us toward a private cove. When he had first walked down with me to the dock and I’d seen the boat, I’d been excited, thinking that finally here was something Rafe did to relax. Something he enjoyed.
But with Rafe, it was once again about business, and only business.
I roll over on my back and adjust my sunglasses. It didn’t matter. Shouldn’t matter, I silently correct myself. It does matter because my feelings are still there. I’d been lying to myself when I thought I was getting over him. Being in Paris provided the necessary distance for me to suppress what I felt, pretend that I was getting over him. My time here in Greece has revealed otherwise.