Page 11 of Bluebell Promises

Throughout, incredibly, Angelos came to meet her. He arranged his schedule at the inn so that he could take a few days off at a time and stay with her in her accommodations. With Angelos by her side in these places, she felt doors opening that might not have if she’d been alone. Angelos could speak the language, and he was utterly charming. Every woman fell in love with him, and every man wanted Angelos for a son or a best friend.

Together, as the sun slid into the sea once more, Angelos and Wren sat on Antiparos and sipped cocktails and discussed what came next. Angelos was needed back on Santorini in a couple of days, but Wren needed to head to Amorgos to take photographs soon.

“But I can come back to Santorini after that,” she said sweetly, kissing his cheek.

Angelos tugged her into him, so that she felt wholly protected in his strong arms. “We’re going to make this work, Wren,” he told her. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I want you to know that it’s different with you and me.” He swallowed. Wren could feel how panicked he was. “I know you are a free spirit, but would you ever consider making Greece your home base?”

Wren closed her eyes and imagined a beautiful future with Angelos. She imagined living on Santorini, swimming in the sea every day and eating all that divine food. She imagined falling deeper and deeper in love with him, photographing their children, and occasionally taking trips all over the world to photograph for money. Then again, maybe she could distance herself from Max and create her own photography practice. Maybe she didn’t have to run around the world anymore. Would she miss it? Could she trade her life for one with Angelos?

“You don’t have to answer now,” Angelos told her gently.

By way of answering, Wren kissed him passionately, then pressed her nose against his. Her heart told her what she’d never imagined it would: this was it.

That night, Wren and Angelos were curled up in bed. Angelos was asleep, but Wren couldn’t calm herself down. She was too excited about what came next. In the middle of the night, she checked her phone, hoping it would distract her from her racing thoughts. It was then she read the message from Max, one she hadn’t seen earlier.

MAX: Heading to Antiparos tomorrow. Let’s have dinner before you head to Amorgos.

Wren groaned inwardly, then set her phone down gently on the side table. She’d let herself forget that Max was coming to Greece in the first place. She’d thought maybe she could get out of it, but now that they would both be on the same tiny island, she saw no way to avoid him.

It wasn’t that she necessarily didn’t want to see Max. It was just that she was having such a daydreamy time with Angelos that she didn’t know how to pull herself away. Then again, if she and Angelos were going to really have a life together, if they were really going to pursue their romance, then a little dinner with her boss wouldn’t hurt.

The following morning, as Angelos and Wren enjoyed a sunrise walk along the coast, she told him that her boss was on his way to Antiparos and wanted to have dinner.

“I’d love to meet him!” Angelos said. “The more the merrier, as you say in English.”

Wren’s heart skipped. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt that Max wouldn’t necessarily want Angelos at their dinner. But she didn’t want to tell Angelos that. What if Angelos got the wrong idea about Max and Wren and what they were to one another?

“I’ve never met him in person,” Wren said. “It should be interesting? Maybe you won’t like him.”

Angelos laughed. “I like everyone. I’m sure it’ll be wonderful.”

When Max wrote at four, saying that he’d reached his Antiparos hotel and wanted to meet around six for pre-dinner drinks, Wren wrote him back.

WREN: Wonderful! Can’t wait to meet you in person. By the way, is it all right if my boyfriend comes along?

Max didn’t write back for more than an hour. During that time, Wren could hardly breathe. Angelos sensed something was wrong, but she told him she was just tired and that all the traveling was finally catching up to her.

Finally, at five fifteen, Max wrote back.

MAX: That’s fine, Wren. I was hoping we could discuss photography in a more concrete way, but maybe we can find another time.

Wren squeezed her eyes shut and told herself it was all right. Max was clearly upset, but once he met Angelos, he would probably adore him, just like everyone else. She put on a pretty dress and did her makeup, then led Angelos into another gorgeous night.

They met Max at a cocktail bar not far from the beach. Immediately, when she saw Max, who was dressed immaculately in a way the Greek islands usually didn’t demand, Wren sensed an arrogance to him that hadn’t been fully apparent via text and email. He narrowed his eyes at Angelos, shaking his hand as he said, “So you’re the photographer’s fling.”

Even if Angelos noticed the malice behind Max’s words, he didn’t show it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Wren showed me some of your photographs, and I think they’re very good.”

Max hadn’t worked as a photographer in ages, but it was true that Wren respected the photographs he’d taken prior to becoming a full-time editor.

“And you, Angelos?” Max asked as they settled in. “What is your art form?”

Angelos laughed. “My art form is living the Greek island life, I suppose.”

Max gave Wren a look of bemusement, and Wren blushed. The truth was, Angelos wrote poetry and painted; he’d written films and plays. No, he wasn’t successful, but he was an artist in his own right. He just didn’t brag about it the way you were meant to if you wanted to make it. To Wren, that made him even more of an artist.

“Wren, Wren, Wren,” Max said finally, shaking his head as he raised his cocktail toward her. “We finally meet! Here in Antiparos.”

A shiver went down Wren’s spine. “It’s a pleasure,” she said.