I frowned, staring at the black liquid in my cup and watching the steam rise slowly.
“What I’m saying is, I can see that you are troubled — and perhaps what’s troubling you most is that you’re trying to get a concrete answer for something that may not require it. Perhaps letting your mind rest is the best cure for what ails you.”
Wayland arched his thick, dark brow at me then, tapping my knee before he left me. But regardless of how beautiful the sentiment behind what he’d shared, I still slumped back into the bed once he was gone, determined to waste the entire day away there.
It didn’t matter that the sun was back, that it was a perfectly beautiful day on one of the most gorgeous islands in all of Greece. There was nothing I could do to block out the black clouds hanging over my heart, and they were all-consuming, the kind of despair that couldn’t be erased by anyone other than the person who caused it.
I didn’t eat breakfast. I didn’t eat lunch. I didn’t do anything but lay in bed, wafting in and out of a restless sleep. I was too tired to do anything active, but too anxious to let myself fully rest. It was the most exhausting push and pull, like an unrelenting barrel of waves taking me under over and over, barely letting me catch my breath in-between.
Sometime in the late afternoon, Wayland knocked again, and this time, he entered carrying a piece of clothing on a hanger covered by a black fabric protector.
“I’ve been instructed to take you to shore at six this evening, Miss—” he caught himself, smiling sheepishly at me as he said, “Aspen.” He hung the mysterious clothing item on the back of the closet door. “You are to wear this.”
I sniffed, squinting through my hazy sight at the black bag, then at Wayland. “Where am I going? Will Theo be there?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have any further information,” Wayland said, but there was a small smirk on his lips, and he ducked away before I could pepper him with more questions. “I’ll meet you on the main deck at ten til six.”
“Wayland!” I tried, but he just waved me off and shut the door behind him with a soft snick.
I sighed, staring at the black bag hanging on the door like it was a bomb waiting to go off. I didn’t know why my anxiety was prickled even more at the lack of information and demand to be ready to go ashore, but it was.
Is he kicking me off?
Is he going to take me to dinner and then have Wayland pack my bags?
Is this it, is this when I let him go?
I steeled a breath against the onslaught of what ifs, wrapping myself up in the bed sheet and tip-toeing over to the closet. I unzipped the bag, and when I did, I gasped.
Hanging inside was a cream, long-sleeve top that weaved together in the front in a stunning criss-cross of thick, ribbed wool. It had a deep but elegant V neck, and around the hanger, there were three delicate gold necklaces of varying size to illustrate how they should lay on my neck. The shortest was just a chain choker with small balls of gold, the next was slightly longer with a small key, and the longest ended with a gold heart about an inch wide.
Below the sweater, there was a gray knee-length skirt with pockets and a thick cotton belt that tied around the waist. There was a clip to the side that held a tortoise shell thin-strap watch. And finally, at the bottom of the bag, were simple nude flats.
I tilted my head to the side, unable to fight off the smile at how much I loved the entire ensemble. It felt strangely… me. The colors were neutral, but the style was fun and quirky, as if Theo had jumped inside my head and picked out exactly what I would love to wear if I knew anything at all about fashion.
And yet… I was confused.
This wasn’t his usual choice of a long, flowy, sparkling dress to take me out on the town to wine and dine. And besides, we were on an island… why in the world would I need long sleeves?
I searched the bag for a note, but found nothing, and one look at the clock had me panicking at the thought of figuring out what to do with my hair and makeup in the hour I had to get ready.
So, for the moment, I put my anxiety on hold and flew downstairs to find Emma, begging her to help me.
She obliged with a squeal of delight, and at six o’clock sharp, I was on the tender with Wayland and headed to shore.
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
