Chapter 6

APOV

One week. I had one week to get Stav out of my system. Or, I should say that I used to have one week. Now we were down to one day. Twenty four hours before I had to go back to reality and get on that plane. The last six days had flown by at record speed. We'd spent nearly every minute together from the night of Elena's wedding - at the beach, at my house, at his house, anywhere the other needed to be.

I hadn't known what to expect at the wedding. I knew how some families could be, and showing up on the arm of their only son could earn a girl a few not so nice looks. But Stav's family had welcomed me with open arms. It was as if, as I had told Stav, I had never left. His mother had taken one look at me and pulled me into hear arms; Elena had squealed with delight when she saw me, even his grandmother had warmed up to me. She had been a tough one to break - first because she spoke hardly any English, and next because she was the decision maker in the family. I must have passed the test though, for by the end of the wedding, she was calling me Stav's half, wherever that meant.

I folded my arms under my chin and looked across the short expanse of sand that separated our towels. I had requested a lazy beach day. There wasn't much opportunity for days like this in Colorado, and it reminded me of the first time I'd met Stav, the first time we became lovers.

We had been so young, so impulsive. It was a coupling comprised of heat and passion, as only a relationship between two teenagers can be. This time around was different. It felt special, like something to be cherished and savored. The heat was there and could be turned on in an instant, but it was comfortable as well. I could not imagine our teenage selves enjoying a quiet breakfast as we had done this morning, nor would we have ever been able to be this close to naked and not touching each other. Not that that was much easier now.

"What?" he asked, shading his eyes with his outstretched hand.

"Nothing," I replied. "Just thinking."

"Well, we can't have that." He rolled over, propping himself up on his elbows and looking down at me. "There can be no thinking on a day like this."

I smiled and propped myself up to face him. "Why not?"

"It's a beautiful day," he said, waving his hand towards the water, "and we are two people in l-" he paused. My heart skipped a beat; was he going to say two people in love? Did I love Stavros? Dear God, I think I did.

Shit. How had that happened? When did that happen? Images flashed before my eyes – of us holding hands as we walked through the streets, of the way he looked when he was rumpled and sleeping next to me, of the color of his eyes when he was leaning in to kiss me. I couldn't believe it. I was in love with him. Genuinely, one-hundred percent in love with him. And I had to leave him tomorrow.

He cleared his throat. "Two people with nothing better to do," he said, though his eyes revealed that he wanted to say something else. I let out a sigh, disappointed that he hadn't. I couldn't blame him. It was frightening, admitting something like that. It wasn't like I was jumping up and down proclaiming it myself.

"Oh," I said, trying to mask my disappointment. "Of course."

He leaned forward and brushed his lips across mine briefly, as if reminding me that we were more than two people lying next to each other on the beach.

"Let's go in the water," he said, sitting up and offering me his hand. "No one's out there. We can have it to ourselves."

I took his outstretched hand, giggling when he pulled me to the water and tossed me in. I gasped at the shock of the cool water against my hot skin. I wasn't the type of girl that ever tiptoed into the water – it was all or nothing. I dove under the cool waves and resurfaced next to Stav. His hair was dripping wet, tiny beads of water streaming across his chest.

"Have I told you?" I started, edging closer to him. "How unbelievably handsome you are?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. His eyes shone with mischief. "You haven't. Why don't you tell me more about this?"

I nodded, biting my bottom lip as I closed the remaining gap between us. "Yes, quite. I'm afraid your physical beauty makes me a little lightheaded."

"Is that so?"

"Yes," I nodded. "As a matter of fact, I'm feeling quite faint now." I collapsed against him, stifling my laughter as his arms wrapped around me, propping me up against him. The laughter was quickly wiped away as his hands worked their way down my back. He brought one hand up to cup my face, the other splayed across the small of my back, pulling our hips together as he looked down at me.

"Melie," he said, his voice wrought with emotion. "I… I…"

"What?" I panted.

He closed his eyes, shaking his head. "Nothing. Just being sentimental."

What? He couldn't say something like that and not expect me to have questions; not expect me to not know answers?

"About what?" I asked breathlessly.

"About a young boy and the first girl who stole his heart."

"Oh."

"Oh?" he asked with a smirk. "That's all you have to say?"

"Stav." I looked away from him, watching the water around us. "I. I-"

"You don't have to say anything," he said, squeezing me tightly to him and then releasing me abruptly and sinking down until the water covered his shoulders. "What do you want to do tonight?"

"I, uh, hadn't thought about it," I said. Who was I kidding? Of course I'd thought about it. This was our last night together unless something changed; unless I was brave enough to make something change.

"Should we go to the taverna?" he suggested.

"We could," I said, sinking down in the water next to him. "Or, we could stay in."

He smiled at me wickedly. "Yes, staying in is always a good option."

"I rather thought so."

.

"I don't think there is anything edible in here," I said, many hours later as I looked into the refrigerator. Calandra normally left everything well stocked, but I'd sent her away to her son's house last week in order to give me more time alone with Stav.

I looked over to see Stav sitting on the counter, his ankles crossed as he surveyed me.

"You look quite edible," he said, raking his eyes over my body.

"This old thing?" I asked with a laugh, plucking at the hem of his t-shirt I had donned when we'd finally had to succumb to our grumbling stomachs.

"I don't think I'll ever look at that shirt the same way," he said.

"I could just keep it you know."

"You could indeed," he nodded. "I don't believe I could wear it again without thinking of you."

Good. That had been my plan when I'd picked it up. Leaving bits of me around might keep me in his mind longer, might make him do something impulsive like fly out to Colorado to see me.

I smiled, turning back to survey the situation. "I'm serious. We have nothing."

"Let me see," he said, hopping off the counter and peering over my shoulder into the mostly empty refrigerator. "Hmm, this is bad." The shelves of the subzero fridge were barren, excepting two bell peppers, a hunk of feta cheese and a few bottles of sparkling water.

"I've got an idea," he said after a moment, turning around and picking up his mobile phone. Without a word, he punched out a text message and hit send. "Dinner will be here in thirty minutes." He smiled, setting his phone down and pulling me towards him.

"Oohh," I said, smiling up at him, "is that some super secret delivery service? Known to locals only?"

"It might be," he said, nuzzling my neck. "You know we don't particularly like tourists."

"Is that so?" I giggled, as his hands traveled up my bare thigh to the hem of the t-shirt that stood between us. "And here I thought you liked me."

He growled, his fingers deftly moving the shirt higher up my legs. "I'd say it's a little more than like Amelia Carmichael. But," I gasped when he tugged the hem up, whether from his actions or his words I did not know. What did it mean if he more than liked me? I didn't have time to contemplate too much as he urged me to lift my arms in the air. The shirt was nothing more than a memory, dangling off the handle to the refrigerator like a dish rag. "I am not like most Greeks, and you are not most tourists."

He picked me up bodily, turning me around until I rested gingerly on the edge of the counter. My breath was shallow as he trailed his knuckles from the nape of my neck, down the valley between my breasts and finally resting at the curve of my belly. His touch was whisper light, barely enough contact to actually qualify as a touch, yet it had me on edge.

"Stav," I cried. His eyes, which had followed the trail of his hand, flew up to meet mine. Their brown depths were laden with desire, and something else that I dared not identify.

"What?" he asked. "What do you want Amelia?"

I shook my head.

"Tell me," he demanded. "Tell me what you want."

"I want," I said, closing my eyes. "You. I want you."

"How?" he asked, sounding as breathless as I felt.

I wanted to tell him how I wanted him, truly I did. I wanted to tell him that I didn't want this to be over soon, or ever frankly; that being with him, like we had been for the last week, made me feel something I had never thought possible. I was known for being flighty, for being whimsical, but being with Stavros made me want to commit to something. Only, I couldn't say it. Not like this, when I was so vulnerable; not when his hands were on me, when I might say something I could regret.

"Like this," I said instead, reaching down and pushing the waistband of his pajama bottoms down until they pooled around his ankles. "Right here."

The joining was different, noticeably so. It was sweet; tender; almost reverent. I expressed all the words that I could not say out loud through my actions, through my touch. When we joined, it was as if two halves were becoming whole, as if we were made to fit each other.

He collapsed on me when we both found our release, the cool granite of the countertop a stark contrast to the hot skin of the man on top of me.

"Do you have to leave?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What?" I asked, looking up at him.

He looked down at me, the moonlight illuminating his features. He opened his mouth and began to speak. "Amelia. I don't want you to-" the doorbell rang, interrupting his words.

He groaned, pushing himself off of me and reaching down to grab his pants.

"What? You don't want me to what?" I practically shrieked.

He paused, looking at me as he tied the drawstring at his waist. The doorbell rang again.

"Nothing," he said shaking his head and turning on his heel to answer the insistent – and unwelcome as far as I was concerned – interruption.

I sat up slowly, smoothing my hair with a sweep of my hand, trying anything to slow my heart down. Would he have asked me to stay? Would I agree? Could I agree? I had a life in Colorado – friends, family; but all of that seemed so far away, so inconsequential when I was with him.

He returned minutes later, his eyes glazing over as he looked at me. I had not bothered to put the shirt back on. I was as comfortable in clothes as out, and I knew that there was no point in getting dressed when I would inevitably be naked again.

He walked around the counter, over to the large table that dominated the open kitchen and set a basket of food down in the center.

"Where are the chairs?" he asked, turning around. Okay, so he really wasn't going to go back there. At least not right now. I shrugged, hopping off the counter and walking to stand next to them.

"Calandra washed them before she left," I said, "she took them outside to dry and I haven't brought them back in."

"I can go get them," he said, moving towards the glass door.

"No," I said, reaching out and clasping his hand. "We don't need them."

I walked back to the counter, grabbing the shirt that he had so haphazardly removed and pulling it over my head.

"Why did you have to do that?" he asked, looking disappointed.

I laughed – well, more like giggled – and shook my head as I left the kitchen, returning a minute later.

"What's that for?" he asked, pointing to the large blanket in my hand.

"A picnic," I said, walking over and picking up the basket with my free hand.

"A picnic?"

"Yep. Open that door," I inclined my head towards the glass doors that led out to the balcony and the beach below. It was the beach where I had first met him, the beach where we had come together again. It was a place that was sacred to me; to us. What better place to go than the place that had brought us together?

"At eleven o'clock?"

"Why not?" I shrugged, walking through the open door and into the night air. The sky was clear and the air was quiet, a perfect bubble we could live in and pretend that tomorrow wasn't coming as quickly as I knew it was.

I walked out to the beach, knowing he would follow me, and began to spread out the blanket. When everything was ready, I turned around to find Stav standing silently behind me, watching my every move with heated eyes.

"That shirt doesn't do nearly as good of a job of covering you as you'd think," he said, kneeling down next to me and pulling me to him for a kiss that left me breathless. Just when I thought I couldn't take any more, my stomach reminded me why we were out here in the first place with a loud grumble. His lips curved against mine, his body shaking with laughter.

"I guess I need to let you eat, huh?" he asked, sitting back on his heels and loosening his grip on me. I was glad he kept his arm around me, because I was fairly sure I would have fallen over otherwise.

"I guess so," I said with a frown.

He reached down and opened the basket, taking out a small container and holding it in front of him.

"Close your eyes," he instructed.

I looked at him skeptically for a moment, then shrugged and did as he ordered. I heard the snap of the container as it opened, my other senses heightened by the lack of sight. I smelled something delicious and felt myself salivate. I guessed I was hungrier than I thought.

I felt his fingertips brush across my lips and heard his voice whisper in my ear. "Taste this." I opened my mouth, and he proceeded to feed me.

"Mmm," I groaned, savoring the flavor and opening my eyes to see him smiling at me. "Is that your grandmother's dolmades?" I asked. When I was sixteen, I had a hard time determining what I loved more, Stav or his grandmother's dolmades. I hadn't had it in ages, but I could easily remember why the decision had been hard.

He nodded. "How…? Who…?"

"Elena," he said with a smile.

"You had your sister – your newly married sister – deliver food to us at eleven pm?"

"Yep," he said with a shrug, taking a bite.

"Stav!" I squealed. As much as I appreciated it, the thought of pulling Elena out of bed to do our biding felt wrong.

"What?" he asked. "She owed me a favor. Plus, you know she'd do anything for you."

"But-"

"No buts," he said, licking the juice that had dripped on his thumb. "The food is here; the night is beautiful and we are hungry. Let us enjoy the food and the company."

I looked at him thoughtfully for a moment and decided that he was right. I reached down and grabbed another, chewing on it silently as I watched him.

He grinned at me, leaning forward to brush a kiss across my lips. He tasted of olive oil and mint, the flavors of the dolmades mixing with the taste that was identifiably Stav. His hand lingered as he pulled his lips away, playing with a stray lock of hair that fluttered in the wind.

"I am so glad I found you again," he said, looking deep into my eyes and smiling.

"Me too," I said breathlessly.

It was the single most romantic moment of my life, even more romantic than the day I'd left when I was sixteen. I hadn't thought a moment would top that, though looking back I realized that it had been more tragic than anything really.

I remained in place as he dropped his hand, tracing the edge of my lips with my tongue and savoring the moment. If nothing else, at least I would have this to hold on to. But would it be enough?

.

The morning came too quickly, the sunlight that had seemed to calming before was now invasive. In the darkness of the night, I could push all thoughts of leaving away. As long as it stayed dark, I would be here with him.

The boat back to Athens was scheduled to leave at eleven. I had insisted on taking the ferry, wanting to remember what it had been like that summer when I was sixteen. At the time it had seemed sweet, reliving a memory from so long ago; now it was laden with irony, leaving from the same port that I had before. But I had done it once; I could surely do it again.

We lingered in bed, and I clung to him as if I would never let him go. I prayed for the courage to say something, anything that would prevent the separation that was rapidly approaching; but I could not bring myself to say anything.

Stav was silent as he took me to the port. He took my hand, intertwining our fingers as we walked towards the crowded port. It was a busy time of year, the tourists swarming to get on with their vacation, businessmen returning to Athens, as Stav would do soon himself. Yet, even with all the people around us, it felt like we were alone in the world. There was only Stav, and me, and what we had at this moment.

His hands tightened around mine as the porter called for passengers to board. "Amelia." The one word, three syllables, said with such raw emotion, cut right through me. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. He leaned down, capturing my lips with his. He pulled me to him tightly, running his hands down my back possessively. I did not care that there were hundreds of people around us, eyes certainly on us. I needed this moment.

"Amelia," he repeated, pulling his lips away from me. "I can't do this again."

"What?" I asked, looking up at him. I could barely think straight after the things his lips had done to me.

He sighed, resting his forehead against mine. "I can't stand here and watch you leave. Not again."

"Oh," I said.

"Oh?" he asked, with a chuckle. "That's all you have to say?"

"No." I shook my head, though didn't say anything more. I looked down, feeling like my body was revolting against me, a part of me jumping around like a super ball, the other disbelieving. Was he really saying what I thought he was saying?

He laughed, tipping my chin up until our eyes met again. "What else do you have to say Amelia? Can you leave like this? Leave again?"

I was frozen, unable to do or say anything.

"It's you Amelia," he said. "It's always been you. I love you. I will always love you. I knew it the day I saw you on the beach when I was seventeen, and I knew it again when I saw you two weeks ago. I, I thought I had moved on, but I haven't. I can't."

"Stav-"

"Don't go," he commanded. "Stay. With me. I do not care where we end up – in Athens, in America, in Antarctica – it does not matter, as long as I am with you."

"I can't," I said, shaking my head. He looked utterly shattered, and I quickly realized the misunderstanding. "I mean. I can't leave you."

His arms tightened around me, a smile breaking out across his handsome face. "I thought I could," I continued. "But I can't."

He leaned down and kissed me once more, briefly. "You'll stay with me?" he asked.

I nodded. "I'll stay."

He picked me up, swinging me around in giant circles as our joined laughter filled the air. I could not believe this was happening to me, to us. It was as if we were coming full circle; as if what I had done all those years ago leaving him at the dock was the beginning of our journey, and this was the end. Or the beginning, depending upon how you looked at it.

He set me down gingerly on my feet, taking a step back and scouring my face. "You're serious?"

"I'm serious."

He smiled, taking my hands in his. "Marry me," he said.

"What?"

"Marry me. Be my wife, my other half. Make me whole."

"Stav," I started to protest. I couldn't get married; I could stay, we could be together; but getting married seemed a bit impulsive, even for me. "You don't have to marry me to get me to stay. I already said I would."

"I'm not asking you because I think it would make you stay," he admonished, though he was still smiling. "We belong together, you and me. I want you to be with me, to be my wife."

"I-"

"Say yes," he commanded.

"Stav."

"Say yes," he repeated. "Marry me, Amelia Carmichael. Be mine forever."

I looked at him, really looked at him. His eyes were on me, their brown depths earnest as he waited for my answer. He looked so handsome, so like the young boy I'd left behind all those years ago. I had dreamed of that boy, of the way things may have been if I hadn't left him behind. Would we have been strong enough to make it? Would I be the woman I was today if I had stayed? I would never know. But I knew one thing – without Stav I would go on living, being exactly who I had been for the past five years; with Stav, I would become something else, become part of something, finally belong to something, to someone.

I bit my lip, hardly believing the words that were about to come out of my mouth. We had left everything in fate's hands before, and fate had brought us back here, back to one another.

"Yes, Stavros Kostopoulous," I grinned, cupping his face in my hands. "Yes, I will marry you."