Chapter 28

Dimitri tried to keep his heart from expanding beyond the confines of his chest as he walked with Lauren through the hanging gallery of sea gifts to the open beach. She was dressed simply today, in long, loose pants and tank top, her hair drawn back in a simple ponytail, and only the most basic of makeup on her face beyond sunscreen. Even that he noticed only because she smelled like coconut, instead of whatever expensive designer fragrance she would normally be wearing, if she was in her own world.

A world he couldn’t share. Would never share.

He tamped down his mutinous thoughts. Last night with Lauren had been a gift from the gods, and he should honor it as such. As the night had turned to morning, he’d awakened to realize they’d spent hours in each other’s arms, their positions as comfortable as breathing and every bit as unconscious. He’d watched her as she slept, memorizing her face, the curve of her lips, the soft brush of eyelashes against her cheeks. He hadn’t wanted to wake her, but the birds accomplished that soon enough, their chatter bringing her upright with a rush, dazed and bewildered until she’d seen him. Then the smile she’d offered him, radiant and full of light, had made him feel like he’d slain a thousand dragons for her, all before breakfast.

He was a sap. Ari would be laughing his ass off at him right now.

The thought of his friend brought joy to him, where so often it had brought sadness, and he stepped out onto the bright white sand beach with a lighter spirit. It helped too that Lauren gasped in wonder as she looked out over the beach. “My God, it’s beautiful,” she breathed.

Dimitri looked around. The beach was similar to any other strip of sand on Miranos, with no signs of civilization now that they’d moved beyond the sculpture garden. Then again, he got the idea that Lauren was probably never truly alone. Even her carefully constructed getaways probably came with a legion of employees and attendants, stylists and planners, cooks and maids and guides. Seeing an open stretch of beach untraveled by any other human most days was probably the equivalent of the Hope Diamond to her.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing out to the reef.

Dimitri squinted into the sunlight and went still. Then he strode forward all the way to the water’s edge and beyond, his shoes sinking easily into the shifting sands.

“Dimitri, what is it? Are you okay?”

“Scrap,” he said, turning back to her as he pulled off his tank top. “Probably nothing.”

She caught his shirt easily, worry and a little excitement plain in her face. “You don’t look like it’s nothing.”

“I haven’t seen anything wash up on this shore with my own eyes for six months.” He grinned at her, then without thinking reached out and pulled her close for a deep, soul-searching kiss. “See? You’re good luck.”

“That must be it—hey!” She stepped back, clearly startled, as he bent down and stripped off his pants as well, leaving nothing but his briefs and shoes. He’d ordinarily strip his briefs off too, but he didn’t want to frighten Lauren back to the mainland. “Aren’t there reefs out there? Won’t you get cut?”

He fished out a pair of gloves from his pants and made sure his ankle knife was strapped tightly, then straightened again. “Gloves will protect me against the reefs, but clothes weigh me down in the water. I’m too used to swimming without. Either way, you should stay out of the water,” he turned to wink at her. “Sharks.”

“Sharks?”

He cut off his impulse to laugh by running forward into the sea, diving deep as soon as the sandy bottom fell away. The water felt good against his body as he cut through it, his muscles stretching and straining, the sun beating down on him. As he swam, he allowed the all too familiar hope to fire anew within him, bright and fierce.

If there was a piece of the plane, a new piece, it didn’t mean that Ari was alive, necessarily. But it meant that the search could continue anew, would continue anew. It meant that more questions would be asked of more people, more money would be spent on trying to find out what had happened to his beloved friend. His friend who should not have died so early, who should not have died at all.

Dimitri reached the outer reef more quickly than he expected, and gingerly worked his way over to the debris, forcing himself not to examine it too closely. No matter what it was, he was honor-bound to bring it ashore. It might not be what he was searching for, but someone else could be, or someone could use it. Anything rendered completely useless was hung up for its inherent beauty, and this bright blue-silver sheet might possibly be…

He reached the sheet and found the point where it was attached to the reef. Using his knife, he cut away the coral, murmuring his apologies as he freed the large sheet. Getting back to the beach was slow and treacherous, and he finally made it there by using the wreckage as a sort of kickboard. By then, of course, he’d also learned what he needed to know from the bit of debris. And he slogged out of the sea far more tired than when he went in.

Lauren was waiting for him, but her eyes were on his face, not the shiny piece of metal he slung to the sand. Having her here, seeing her expression turn from hopeful trepidation to soft dismay, was enough to undo him. He sank to his knees, not realizing that she’d rushed over to him, was kneeling beside him, until he felt her arms around him, stronger than he would have expected. He sank his head forward and encountered her shoulder, sturdy and certain and true.

The tears that he hadn’t allowed to fall for months broke free then, beneath the bright sun, amidst all the beauty and unspoiled splendor of the white sand beach of Miranos. He’d stayed stoic through the funeral and through every military campaign with Ari’s younger brother, Kristos. He’d stayed firm in front of his sister and her children and grandchildren, all of them treating him as if he might break. He’d remained resolute in the face of the utterly despairing Queen Catherine, her face ravaged with pain and loss.

But here, in the arms of this woman, he could let go.

And he did.

He wept in silent, shuddering sobs, his breath a sharp bark when he expelled it, the tears that poured forth welling up from places he”d thought he”d never unearth. He shook in Lauren’s steady grip, and eventually he held her back, clinging to her as she rocked him on the sand, the stream of his tears like losing his life’s blood on the battlefield, blood he would willingly have shed to save Ari from such a stupid, senseless fate. He wept for the friendship that had ended, and the friendship he couldn’t let go. His unwavering refusal to let Ari die and get on with his own life remained an open wound that wouldn’t heal. It couldn”t heal, as long as he resisted the truth. But neither could he accept that truth and give up on Ari. Not yet, anyway.

Not even when Poseidon mocked him with his gifts of twisted steel.

It was a long time before he realized he’d stopped crying, and that Lauren still held him—more loosely now, allowing him space to breathe, to be, while maintaining their connection. He lifted his head and offered her a rueful smile, the tears threatening again when he saw her face was wet as well.

“Sorry,” he said gruffly.

“There’s no shame in caring for your friend, Dimitri.” Her words sounded as if she was a thousand years old, filled with all the ache and pain that she never showed. “Everyone should have a friend like you. The world would be a better place.”

Blinking rapidly, as if she’d somehow betrayed too much, she looked at the metal sheet. “Not from the plane, I take it?”

“It’s too thin.” He shook his head. “It’s a piece of some plane, but not the reinforced aircraft Ari had. I should have realized that immediately, but—” He trailed off, and Lauren reached for his hand. He needed her presence more than he wanted to, and certainly more than he wanted to admit. But she didn’t push for him to talk about any of that. She didn’t push at all. In some ways, maybe she needed the simple connection of a held hand every bit as much as he did. Maybe.

But he couldn’t help but think about the reality of their situation. This idyll would last—at best—another day. And then she’d go back to her world, he to his.

How ironic that, though his job was fighting and sometimes death, hers at this moment seemed the grimmer prospect.