Aria
Lunch was served on the terrace.
The small outdoor table had been set beneath a pale linen umbrella that swayed gently in the breeze. The sun had dipped slightly west, softening the heat, and the sea below glittered lazily as sailboats drifted across the horizon.
A hotel attendant had brought up plates of grilled seafood, fresh bread, olives, and a bright salad that smelled faintly of lemon and herbs.
It should have been perfect.
And for the first few minutes, it almost was.
Tamara sat across from Ethan, while I took the chair beside him. The arrangement had happened naturally, though I noticed Tamara had pulled her chair closer to his side of the table rather than the one across from me.
She seemed relaxed. Comfortable.
Too comfortable.
Tamara leaned back slightly in her cha
