I padded down the hall, making a right-hand turn into the small area that led to my room. The door to Jennifer’s room lay open, a steamy breeze drifting in through sheer, fluttering curtains. The storm had ended abruptly while I was in the shower. The sunshine and fluffy clouds of Jennifer’s paintings had returned. I took a quick peek into her room from the doorframe. Her bedroom furnishings, like the rest of the house, were simple. Whitewashed wood, clean lines. One of her paintings hung on the wall over her bed. The blues, greens and yellows were exactly right. You could feel the warmth radiating from the canvas. Hear the rustle of the swaying branches and the slap of waves against the fishing boats.
I gasped as a figure appeared at Jennifer’s window. A man. Naked. Climbing in backwards over the sill. His hair wet and body damp.
My scream sounded like a squawk as I stumbled back. “Jennifer! Someone’s breaking into your house!”
Gray had already jumped into the shower seconds after I’d left the bathroom. He wouldn’t hear.
Jennifer rushed into the hallway and peered in at the man standing in her room. He’d grabbed a sheet and had it wrapped around his middle.
“No, it’s just . . . Sethi.” She smiled.
“You know him? He often comes in here like—？” I broke off, suddenly embarrassed. He had to be a boyfriend or some such, surprising her. He’d been naked, after all.
Sethi grinned. “Bad decision.” His accent was deep, melodious, Greek.
“I’m sorry.” I shook my head, not knowing where to put myself. “Goodness, how silly was I?”
Jennifer’s laugh tinkled in the air. “You weren’t to know. Sethi and I are very good friends. He’s been away for a couple of weeks on a fishing trawler. He’s a fisherman.”
“Apologies,” I said to Sethi. “I must have given you a shock, screaming like that.”
“I was more scared than you.” He winked.
“Clothes are optional in my house,” said Jennifer lightly. “That’s why Sethi didn’t think anything of coming in here au naturel. He likes to surprise me sometimes.”
I frowned, remembering something. “The man in your paintings. It’s Sethi, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “Yes. We’ve been together for seven years. We don’t live together. I like my space. It works better this way.”
I eyed Sethi intently. “The paintings of you underwater just looked so . . . free.”
“Ah,” he said. “Those paintings are from the stories I told Jenny of my younger years. I grew up on Kalymnos Island. My brothers and cousins and I were all sponge divers. We learned to dive deep and hold our breath a long time.”
The way Jennifer gazed at him as he spoke, I could tell she was besotted with him.
“I should leave you two alone . . . to catch up.” I beat a hasty retreat to my room and closed the door.
The same sultry island breeze that had been filtering into Jennifer’s room had found its way into mine, too.
I pictured the catch-up that Jennifer and Sethi must be having. And then tried to shake it from my mind. But still, my mind wandered back to the paintings. They’d been so sensual and lovingly drawn they made me ache.
James had never been anything like Sethi. He wasn’t spontaneous or sensual. His eyes didn’t light up at me in the way Sethi’s did when he looked at Jennifer. He’d never surprised me the way in which Sethi apparently liked to surprise Jennifer.
Life with James had been very ordinary. Go for a run every Saturday morning, walk the dog, check in with each other about basic things to do with the running of the house. Of course, James was away a lot on business trips, but he’d always maintain the routine when he was there. He was fit and lean and expected me to be too. Perhaps that was a good thing. Without his standard to adhere to, I was sure I would have indulged my sweet tooth more. I’d probably be fat. I’d been fat when I was with Otto. Now, I looked good. I never had to worry that the clothes I bought wouldn’t fit well. I had a lot of pride wrapped in my toned thighs and flat stomach and the feeling of a belt cinching in my small waist. When James would come up behind me and place his hands on my waist, I used to glow. He’d fit his hands to me like I was a finely tooled machine that was beautiful to touch and hold.
I didn’t know what was wrong with me—James had given me so much. I couldn’t expect to have everything. Passionate men weren’t rich businessmen, it seemed. Did Jennifer and Sethi have the right idea in living apart? Did it make them desire each other more, fuelling a lust that often disappeared too soon in a relationship?