Theo went to the island, rather than a hotel, and that was a mistake, because memories of Annie chased him there. Even in the ocean, there was no solace. Whatever their first time had been about, it had imprinted on him in a way he couldn’t shake. She was in the wind, the sand, the sky, the very air he breathed.
He stayed for a week, each day, hoping to wake up and feel something like his normal self, but without success.
On the eighth day, he returned to Athens with a heaviness in his gut he couldn’t shift.
He thought about going home, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to see Annie. He wished this whole thing had never happened. He’d been so focused on the chance for revenge against her father, he hadn’t stopped to think about what that revenge might do to Annie. He hadn’t stopped to think about the fact he was making her collateral damage, nor the fact that he really, really cared about that.
And even though he knew he couldn’t be with her, he also knew he couldn’t be responsible for ruining her life—and her relationship with her father.
She’d called him a coward? Maybe she was right. But he was going to stand up and fix at least one part of this debacle, starting with her father.
Nine days after walking away from Annie, he arrived at her father’s house, grim-faced but determined, and pressed the doorbell.
A maid answered after a few moments.
‘Is Elliot Langley in?’
‘May I take your name?’
Theo compressed his jaw. ‘His son-in-law.’
Even then, when’d come to relieve himself of the burdens of guilt and hate, he found it hard to step back from what he was feeling.
‘Very good, sir. Please, come in. Mr Langley is in his study.’
Theo nodded once, but having only come to the house on the occasion of Elliot’s recent birthday, he had no idea where that was. That must have shown on his features, because the maid said, ‘Please, follow me.’
Theo strode behind her, noting the lack of photographs of Annie on the walls, whereas everywhere he looked there were pictures of his late daughter, Mary.
He knew what the dynamic had been, because Annie had told him, back then, but that didn’t make it any harder to see. To imagine how it had been for Annie, growing up here, amongst this museum—a tribute to the little girl they’d lost. A little girl she could never replace, no matter how much her parents wanted her to.
Something cavernous opened up in his chest as Annie’s spirit flooded through him. Annie, who’d never really been loved, either. Who’d only been wanted to stem the tide of grief, andhadn’t been enough for that. Annie who had learned her role in life was to give up everything to please her parents, including her own independence, her own desires. Including him, even when he was what she’d wanted most.
Annie who’d come to him for help, and received instead the weight of Theo’s bitter resentment and anger, who’d been destroyed by him when she’d most needed compassion.
The gnawing, cavernous hollow in the middle of his being expanded out. Regret was a third footfall, right behind him, chasing him relentlessly.
‘Leonidas.’ Elliot pushed back his chair, staring across his office at Theo, as though he’d seen a ghost. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘We need to talk,’ he said, striving to infuse his voice with a hint of cordiality, and failing.
‘What the hell for? I thought I made it clear the other night—you’re not welcome in my house.’
‘Even as your son-in-law?’ he asked, his lips sneering, before remembering he’d come here to be honest, to at least fix things, as much as he could, for Annie.
‘The fact she was stupid enough to marry you doesn’t change a thing about how I feel. She’ll wake up and see the light one day.’
‘And if she doesn’t?’
‘It’s inevitable. You’re not right for her. How could you ever hope to be? Someone like you…’
Theo crossed to the window and stared out at the familiar view of Athens. His own outlook, from his bedroom in the Georgiadeses’ house next door, had been in this direction.
‘It’s good to see your elitist streak hasn’t mellowed with age.’
‘Is it elitist to speak the truth?’
‘Your truth is exactly that—yours. Not mine, not Annie’s. Never Annie’s.’