We breakfast together on grapes and figs while lying on wild grass, take a walk around our island, fill our eyes with sea, fill our ears with bird song.

I drive her to the Loose Wolf where she lunches with the women who tend to the island gardens. I sit six feet away and watch her out of the corner of my eye, the bend and flick of her wrist, the skin of her neck so soft I caress and kiss it with my peripheral vision. I see that she sees me admiring her but she does not look directly at me, only accidentally on purpose lifts the hem of her skirt.

I order a plate of pork and open my eReader to reread Circe.