Chapter Twenty-Five

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Theo wasn’t waiting for me at the dock, like I expected. Nor was he in the sleek black car that picked me up and drove me across the island. I was alone in my thoughts as the sun set over the water, and my knee bounced along to the lovely Greek music playing on the driver’s radio.

We pulled to the side of a narrow street about twenty minutes after leaving the dock, and the driver told me I would need to walk the rest of the way, given the nature of Santorini’s cobblestone alleyways and stairs. He handed me a slip of paper with clear directions on it, as well as a phone number, in case I got lost. Then, I was on my own.

It was like walking in a dream as I followed the directions through the tiny streets to my next destination. The setting sun cast the white buildings in brilliant shades of orange and pink, the sky slowly faded into dusk, and all over town, lights began to flick on one by one. There was a gentle breeze rolling off the water, and I was thankful for the long sleeves now that I felt how the sun setting could call in a cooler evening.

I checked the directions twice once I arrived at the destination — a bustling white building with a bright blue roof nestled between a hotel and a restaurant. There was a considerable crowd inside the building, from what I could see through the glass front doors, and two couples offered me polite smiles as they pushed past where I hesitated and let themselves in, too.

The sign above the doors read γκαλερ? τ?χνη?.

Which meant I had zero idea of what was inside.

An older gentleman brushed past me, and when he saw the unsure look on my face, he smiled, opening one of the glass doors and gesturing for me to enter. I returned his smile as best I could, trying to soothe my stomach with a warm palm pressed against it as I slid past him and inside the building.

No, not just a building.

A gallery .

I blinked like I’d walked in from the blinding light of the sun, adjusting my purse on my shoulder as the gallery came into view. It was a small space, quaint, all-white walls and black ceilings with a mosaic-tiled floor. There were two thick wall-like dividers in the middle that separated the one room into four sort of aisleways, each one lined with artwork. The lighting was low, mostly just the up-lights illuminating the art, and soft jazz played from a speaker in the corner.

There were at least a few dozen people inside, the sound of laughter and chatter and the clinking of drinkware combining with the music to set a pleasant ambience. It was like a party, but I had no idea who the guest of honor was, what we were celebrating, or why I was here.

A lean woman dressed in all black approached me with a tray full of champagne, but I declined with a smile, confusion setting in more and more as I waited by the door for Theo.

I searched the crowd, but didn’t see him.

I searched the alleyway outside, but didn’t see him.

I scanned the crowd and the gallery again, and still, I didn’t see him.

But what I did see that second time around was so unbelievable I pinched my side to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

I tilted my head, heart picking up from a trot to a gallop as my brain tried to fight me with logic. It screamed at me all the reasons why there was no way I could possibly be seeing what I thought I was.

I let my feet carry me blindly across the entryway of the gallery to the first piece of artwork hanging on the wall, muttering excuse me’s as I weaved through the crowd, and the closer I got, the more my brain quieted, leaving only my racing heart to pulse in my ears.

There was no refuting it.

There was no trying to talk myself out of the possibility of it being real.

The photograph in the frame was mine.

I covered my lips with shaking fingertips, eyes bouncing from one end of the photograph to the other. It was one I’d taken on the island of Capri, three children playing kickball in the yard with the white limestone cliffs stretching up to touch the sky behind them, the sun’s rays peeking through thick white clouds, specks of dark and light green foliage peppering the hills of houses. I remembered the way the sun coming through the clouds seemed to almost cast a golden hue over the entire island that day, and how I’d felt that piercing light into my very soul when I took this photograph. It was seeing the pure joy on those children’s faces, watching the way they ran unabashedly forward, onward, without fear or hesitation. They laughed and played and capturing that moment made me feel like I had plucked the fruits of innocence and peace straight from the tree of life and tucked them away into my heart forever.

The photograph was framed by a warm wood that only brought out more of the glow in the photograph, and there was a soft pool of light cast over it from the lamps shining on each side.

I wasn’t sure how long I stood there, blinking, swallowing back emotion, trying to understand. But when I finally turned my head to cast a glance down the rest of that first aisle in the gallery, my heart stopped altogether before kicking back to life with a fierce thump thump thump .

Every photograph in that aisle, and the next, and in the entire gallery was mine.

“Oh my God ,” I whispered under my breath, shaking my head as I walked on jelly legs to the next photograph.

It was the one from Nice of the couple on the seawall, and as much as I loved seeing it printed and framed, I loved the expressions of those who were viewing it even more. There was a young couple, much like the one in the photograph, who stared at the picture a while before giving each other a knowing look, their hands clasping, cheeks blushing as if they knew the secret the couple in the photograph did, too. And an older woman behind them looked at the photograph with solemn eyes, her fingers twisting around the bare ring finger of her left hand. I wondered if there once was a gold band there, one signifying a love that was never supposed to die.

I weaved in and out of the guests of the gallery, chest tightening more and more with every step that revealed a new piece of my art. I watched as the patrons pointed and nodded, listened as they whispered how each one made them feel, and all the while, my brain was still trying to convince me none of it was real.

I must be in a dream.

I must have fallen asleep on the boat.

This can’t possibly be happening.

But when I rounded the corner into the last aisleway, there was no fog or haze or dreamy state of mind. There was only a giant photo of me looking over my shoulder, the sunset over Positano behind me, my eyes bright and wide and glistening in the setting sun.

It was the photograph Theo took.

Emotion warped my face, but I schooled it, crossing my arms over my chest as I slowly made my way to read the plaque next to it.

Aspen Dawn, photographer of all the pieces included in this special Dawn of the Med exhibit. Taken by Theo Whitman, exhibit sponsor and philanthropist. Sunset in Positano, Italy.

I rolled my lips together, shaking my head as tears flooded my eyes.

The gentleman who had held the door open for me earlier quietly came up to stand beside me, his eyes flicking from me to the photograph Theo had taken. He smiled widely, gesturing to the photograph and saying, “You?”

I nodded, laughing and swiping away the fat teardrops that slipped over my cheeks with the smile.

The man looked back to the photograph, then at me, and his hands reached forward to take mine in his own. He bowed a little, kissing my knuckles, and said something that sounded like panemorfi .

I made a mental note to look up what it meant later.

With another sweet smile, he dropped my hands, glancing at the photograph of me one last time before he left me. And I stared at the happiness reflected in my eyes in that photo for a long time before I turned, too, and promptly lost my next breath.

Standing there in the center of the aisle was a devastatingly handsome Theo Whitman.

He wore a cream tailored suit with a simple, thin black tie that somehow made him look like he was part of the exhibit, himself. His hands rested easily in his pockets, his hair gelled into a perfect swoop, and he watched me with bent brows as I slowly made my way toward him. I stopped with a few feet between us, clasping my hands in front of me and searching his gaze.

Theo looked like he hadn’t slept any more than I had, and the wrinkle between his brows told me he didn’t know what to say, or what to do, but that he was anguished. We watched each other for a long time, the music and background noise of chatter fading out more and more, as if we were the only two people who existed at all.

“You did this?” I asked after a long pause.

He nodded, closing the space between us. His hands reached out tentatively at first, but when I didn’t pull away, he slipped his hands to hold me at the small of my back, his piercing eyes watching me over the bridge of his nose.

“I wanted you to know the truth.”

“What truth is that?” I whispered.

Theo swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard in his throat. “That I love you.”

I choked on a soft sob, covering my mouth with trembling hands as my eyes flooded again.

“That I believe in you this much,” he said, looking around at all my photographs hanging in the gallery as he stepped into me even more. When his eyes found mine again, they seemed to peer into the very depths of who I was. “And that I believe in us even more.”

I closed my eyes, releasing the tears that had been building. Theo thumbed them away, pressing his lips to my forehead and holding me tight.

“I don’t care about your past. I don’t care about mine. Nothing else matters to me, other than the future you and I can make together . And I know what I said about my lifestyle the other night,” he said, pulling back to look me in the eyes. “But we will find a way. We will make it work. Because if I’ve learned one thing this summer, it’s that now that I know you exist in this world, I cannot live without you existing in mine , too.”

I shook my head, leaning into where his palm framed my face. “I can’t believe you did all this…”

“I did it to prove to you that I’m not going anywhere, and that what we have is real. You don’t have to be scared of it disappearing.” He paused, thumbing my jaw. “Do you believe me now?”

I laughed, swiping away the tears that were let loose with the notion. “I believe you are crazy, and impulsive,” I said, but then I locked my arms around his neck and brought his lips down to mine. “And the most brilliant, thoughtful, incredible man I have ever known.”

“Anything else?”

I nodded, swallowing down the knot in my throat before I whispered, “And I think I love you back.”

Theo smiled against my kiss before deepening it, his arms wrapping me up tighter, and just as we both groaned at the way it felt to be connected, I pressed my hands into his chest.

“Wait,” I breathed, looking around the gallery. “I don’t understand… how did you do all this?”

Theo shrugged. “I have my ways.”

“Ways you can’t tell me, huh?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he said. “But let’s just say I made a sizable donation to the gallery in exchange for a little help with tonight’s event.”

I chuckled, looking behind him at all the guests admiring my work. “I can’t believe all these people are looking at my photographs.”

“Not just looking at them. Falling in love with them,” Theo said, and he turned so that we were both facing the gallery, tucking me under his arm. “You know, we’ve already had thirteen offers to buy.”

My eyes must have popped out of my head because Theo laughed and kissed my cheek, squeezing my hip gently.

“Don’t look so surprised.”

“I… I just never considered…” My gut did a full-on somersault, and I swallowed down the sudden rush of nausea that I couldn’t pinpoint the source of. “Did you sell them?”

“No,” Theo answered quickly. “That wasn’t the purpose of tonight. But I can sell them. If you’d like me to.”

I frowned. “How much did they offer?”

At that, a grin spread on Theo’s lips. “The one you took in Nice of the man and woman facing opposite directions on the bench. You know the one?”

I nodded.

Theo leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Four-thousand euros.”

I slapped his chest, shoving him away as I shook my head over and over and he just laughed at my expense.

“You can’t be serious!”

“But I am,” he said. “So, should I sell it?”

I just stared at him with my mouth hanging open, but then something in my heart squeezed tight, and I frowned, glancing down the hallway lined with my art. Every picture hanging in that gallery was a little piece of me, and though I’d always dreamed of sharing those little pieces with the world, I’d never considered that someone might want to purchase that little piece of me and take it home with them.

“How about this,” Theo said after a moment, pulling me into his arms again. He waited until my eyes were back on him before he continued. “I’ll have the curator collect the information of the potential buyers and let them know we’ll be in touch. That way, you don’t have to make any decisions tonight. Okay? If you decide to sell, we’ll arrange it. Otherwise, we’ll have them all shipped back to New York.”

I smiled, shaking my head as my fingertips played with the lapel of his suit jacket. “I feel as transparent as wax paper with you around,” I said. “You can see what no one else can, what not even I can.”

“I feel the same way when you look at me,” he said, thumbing my chin. He smoothed the skin along my jaw, over my cheek, his hand slipping back to cup my neck. When I leaned into the touch with a sigh, he swallowed, his jaw set. “I’d like to take you home now.”

“Would you?” I asked, arching a brow playfully.

He nodded, and without another word, he swept me into his arms and out the back door of the gallery, leaving the guests and my photographs behind.

***

My feet had no sooner touched down on the plush rug in Theo’s master suite before his lips covered mine, warm and soft, his breath a long sigh of relief. It was like he’d been waiting for this moment all night, to have me alone and all to himself, and now he was reveling in the way it felt to wrap me in his arms.

I felt the same way.

After the last two days of uncertainty, of anxiety spirals and hopelessness, all I wanted was for Theo to consume me. I wanted him to cover me up in all that he was, until I could no longer tell where he stopped and I began.

I pressed onto my toes to deepen the kiss, sliding my hands up and over his shoulders under his jacket so I could push it down his arms. Theo released his grip on me long enough to help me strip him, and then he was doing the same to me, gently fingering the bobby pins out of my hair first until it fell down over my shoulders in long, curly waves.

I worked his tie next, and his hands tugged at the bow securing my skirt. I unfastened each button of his dress shirt and he broke our kisses long enough to strip my blouse overhead. It was completely silent, save for our breaths and the soft sounds of skin on skin, of fabric hitting the floor, of hearts thumping to life more and more with each touch.

When we were both fully nude, Theo wrapped me up in his arms again, the warmth of him meeting the warmth of me as we both exhaled together. He ran his hands back through my hair, tugging until my neck was arched, chin to the ceiling, and he kissed me hard and long, as if that kiss was his only chance to show me how he truly felt about me.

As if what he’d done for me tonight hadn’t already illustrated that perfectly.

Still, I leaned into that kiss like it was the vessel bringing me home until Theo scooped me up in his arms again and gently laid me down in the cool sheets of his giant bed.

I’d had Theo in a multitude of ways, ways that I was certain now no other woman ever had. I’d had him on his knees in the shower, tasting me and driving me to orgasm with one leg hooked over his shoulder. I’d had him pounding me from behind, his hand wrapped tightly around my neck until I had to tap his arm and beg for oxygen. I’d had his cock in my mouth, him groaning out instructions and guiding me until he pulled out and painted my chest with his release.

So many ways. So many nights and mornings and long afternoons. So many times now, I’d seen that man undress, and felt his hardness inside me, and known the ecstasy that came at the mercy of his fingertips, his tongue, his throbbing, thick member.

But I’d never had Theo Whitman like this.

I’d never had him quiet and trembling, his eyes locked on mine as he slipped between my legs and pulled the sheets up until they covered us like silky fog. I’d never had his arms tucked under me, his hands wrapped around my shoulders, thighs spreading my own until I opened for him. I’d never had his shaky breaths washing over my skin as he positioned himself at my entrance, never stared into his adoring eyes as he pressed inside me, never felt the difference between being fucked by Theo and having him make sweet love to me.

I gasped when he flexed all the way inside me, and Theo caught my breath with his mouth over mine, kissing me softly, surely, as he withdrew and flexed inside again. This time, I moaned, chills racing over my skin at the sensation of having him so deep. Theo kissed along my neck, my collarbone, over the swells of my breasts before he pressed up onto his elbows so he could look down on me.

On us.

His mouth parted as he looked between us, at where we met, at where his long length pressed inside of me again and again. It was so erotic, watching him watch us, and when he lowered himself back down again, it was with a needy kiss, a sweep of his tongue over mine, a desperate pull of my shoulders, a whisper of more .

My orgasm built slowly but fiercely, like a volcano formed over millions of years. It burned inside me, singeing the bones of my rib cage, melting the walls of my heart. I felt every spark, every lick of the flame until it bubbled out of me, and I dug my nails into Theo’s back, holding on as he picked up the pace to drive me over the edge.

I cried out, back arching, Theo’s name on my lips as I found my release. I realized then that Theo was there, too, grunting and gripping me just as tight as he came undone inside me. It was the first time we’d come together, that we’d been so wrapped up in each other that our bodies caught fire at the same moment.

We trembled in tandem when we were both spent, Theo’s slick forehead dropping to my chest as I sheltered him with my arms. I kissed his hair, and he squeezed me tighter where he held me, our breaths slowly evening out.

“I love you,” Theo whispered against my chest, and I couldn’t stop the tears that pricked the corners of my eyes at such a sweet sound.

“I love you,” I whispered in return.

We fell asleep wrapped in each other in a tangle of arms and legs and silky sheets, with our hearts soaring, our souls on high. At the core of who I was, I truly felt like nothing could touch us, like nothing and no one could ever rip us apart.

For the first time all summer — perhaps all my life — I felt secure, and safe, and sound.

And in the blissful, nescient sleep I slipped into with Theo’s arms around me, I didn’t hear the distant crack of thunder warning me that I was wrong.