Page 226 of This Bitter Sweet Temptation
Laughing, we kiss again, overflowing with excitement for tomorrow, the first day of forever in our brand-new family.
We flyto an island oasis floating in the Mediterranean’s green crystal.
Crete.
After everything, it feels a bit like coming full circle. Holden and I wander through the old streets of Heraklion hand in hand, the sun beating down on our heads.
We’re all wearing very attractive, floppy sun hats and so much sunscreen I feel like a glazed ham.
Living in Maine doesn’t prepare you for this heat. We’ve barely stepped outside the resort the first afternoon and I’m dripping like a cold glass in August.
But when ancient stone columns throw down their shadows and sailboats line the horizon, it’s so worth it.
Kit sprints ahead of us, grinning at the sight of an old church on the corner. A tasteful line of hotels traces the shore.
After a life in New England, I’m no stranger to the sea. But there’s something different here, something new and fresh and warm in the air.
Kit turns back to us, wearing the biggest smile as she points down the road. “Guys, look! What are those?”
We reach the ruins and look them over.
Some of these broken remnants must be thousands of years old.
You hear about the Ancient Greeks, but it’s hard to grasp any people existing that long ago, leaving behind these grand markers.
We take our sweet time winding through the columns and faded foundations of buildings older than Portland and Boston. Holden grasps my hand the entire time.
After exploring the city, we return to the resort, thirsty and hot. But as soon as we enter the cool lobby, a man comes over.
“Are you Mrs. Blackthorn?” he asks. “Hello, I’m Georgios, the resort manager.”
“Mrs. Verity now, but close enough. Sorry, do I know you?”
“No. Please, if you’ll follow me for a moment, there’s a place I’d like you to see.” He shakes his head and gestures at the door.
We trade a glance. Holden looks just as confused as I am, and we exit back into the blinding sunshine. We trail the man from a safe distance, heading for the marina just a couple blocks away.
Beside it, a rocky beach.
We descend the steps with Kit staying a few paces behind us. Holden’s face is granite. I nudge his shoulder.
“Relax. It’s nothing crazy, I’m sure. He works for the resort.”
“Stay behind me,” he growls.
I think the only reason he allows it is because it’s a public place and there are plenty of people milling around.
The resort manager looks back at us as we trail behind him with a confused expression.
“So what’s the big surprise?” I prompt, trying not to sound nervous.
“Ah, you’ll see. We’re almost there.” He rubs his forehead, shining with sweat. You’d think the people who live here would build some kind of immunity, but it turns out nothing beats the sun and human biology.
Even so, his grin feels blinding as he leads us to the rocky beach.
“He always used to eat lunch here,” he explains, pointing to the white stone on the side of the marina. “People have come here to carve their names for the past hundred years, perhaps longer.”
I squint, but it’s not until he points up that I finally see why it matters.
