"Kalimera," Dimitrios said. "Hi. This is a surprise."
Until that moment Brianna had deliberately thought of Poppy as his daughter, or the little girl, or the child, or even, may God forgive her, "the patient." It had been, she supposed, her way of distancing herself from a set of circumstances still more painful to contemplate than they had any right to be. But now, suddenly, the words she'd avoided using were the only ones with real meaning. Closing the distance between herself and the chair, she dropped down to be at eye level with Poppy and said, "I thought it high time I met my niece. Hello, beautiful! I'm your auntie Brianna."
Whether or not she really understood what that meant was doubtful, but after surveying Brianna for a long, quiet moment, Poppy smiled and reached out her arms to be held. Almost choking with emotion, Brianna looked to Dimitrios to gauge his reaction.
In one lithe movement, he was out of the chair. With a jerk of his chin, he invited her to take his place, and when she was comfortably seated, passed her niece to her. Brianna felt the warm little body, the painfully fragile bones, the soft skin. She felt the sweet damp draft of breath against her cheek, the trusting clutch of tiny fingers at the side of her neck.
A fresh tide of emotion rolled over her. Her entire being filled with something so visceral, so elemental, it left her breathless. Only once before had she known such an instant connection with another human being, and, as swiftly as she had the first time around, she fell in love again. Hopelessly, helplessly. And this time, forever.
I'm finally where I belong, she thought, dazed by sudden blinding insight. Not on a runway or on location for a glamorous shoot, but in a simple rocking chair, with a child in my arms. Modeling might have been my occupation, but motherhood is my true vocation.
Swallowing hard, she closed her eyes and held on: to Poppy, and to the tears she didn't want her niece to see; to the hope that she could be the one to give this little soul the gift of life; and most of all, to the chance to make up for the years she had missed being an aunt to this adorable child. When, after struggling for an interminable minute or so, she could finally breathe again, she set the rocking chair in gentle motion and began to hum a lullaby, which she neither knew how nor when she'd committed to memory. And as if she'd finally come home, Poppy relaxed and let her head settle drowsily against Brianna's shoulder.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say she recognizes you," Dimitrios said, his voice as rough sounding as if his throat had been scraped raw with coarse brown sugar.
Brianna's eyes flew open in shock. "Do you think she's mistaking me for Cecily?"
His laugh emerged, harsh, abrupt and brimming with bitter irony. "Ohi! Not in a million years! For a start she was only eighteen months old when her mother died. Not only that, Cecily never crooned to her or held her like that, and I'm pretty sure she never rocked her to sleep. She left that kind of job to Erika or the latest nanny."
Running her hand in slow, comforting strokes up Poppy's delicate spine, Brianna whispered, "What did she do for her, then?"
"Dress her up like a doll or something you'd stick on the top of a Christmas tree, and parade her before visitors to impress them. Smother her with kisses and endearments if there happened to be a captive audience on hand to applaud her. Pretend she cared," he finished, with such unvarnished disgust that Brianna shuddered.
It all sounded so horribly familiar; so reminiscent of her and Cecily's own blighted childhood, when their mother would deliver an award-winning performance as Parent of the Year if the "right" people were there to witness it and there was the chance she could further her ambitions to make money from her daughters. The difference, of course, was that Cecily hadn't done it for money. She hadn't needed to. She'd married it, instead.
"If that's how she felt, she never should have had a baby in the first place."
"No. You'd have been a much better choice," Dimitrios said, so quietly that Brianna wasn't entirely sure she'd heard him correctly.
But the glance he turned on her, intense and full of dark remorse, made her heart leap in her breast and sent a thread of warmth stealing through her body. But Be careful! her head cautioned. He seduced you with words once before and you learned to your cost that, in the end, they meant nothing. Don't fall for the same old ploy a second time.
From her post by the door, Noelle coughed lightly, as though to remind them of her presence and, crossing the room, lowered the high rail on the side of the hospital crib and took Poppy from Brianna. "This little one's had enough excitement for now and is falling asleep," she said, very much the doctor in charge. "The more rest she gets, the better, so let's leave her to nap undisturbed."
She placed Poppy gently on the mattress and drew a soft blanket over her lower limbs. Robbed of the warmth of that sweet little body, Brianna crossed her hands over her breast in a futile attempt to stem the emptiness that filled both her arms and her heart. She should have been our baby, she thought, anguished. Mine and Dimitrios's. She'd never have had to make do with Erika or a nanny if I'd been her mother.
Noelle touched her arm kindly. "If Dimitrios doesn't mind, you can come back later, but I have to ask you to leave her for now."
"I don't mind," he said. "It'll be a change from her having to make do with me all the time."
"Is there no one else in the family who comes to see her?"
"We have no other family," he replied with grim finality.
Poppy rested on her stomach with her head turned to one side. Her lashes lay thick and dark as soot on her pale cheeks. Her thumb had found its way into her sweet little rosebud mouth. Her little bottom rose and fell gently with each breath she took.
Brianna lingered for one last look at the new love of her life. You do now, sweetheart, she telegraphed fiercely. You have me, and together you and I are going to beat this disease, and I'm going to be there to watch you grow up strong and healthy.
Dimitrios was so silent and so obviously preoccupied as they rode the elevator to the main floor and walked out to the clinic's sun-filled forecourt where Spiros waited in the Mercedes, that the last thing she expected was for him to stop her as she was about to climb into the car and say, "I don't know about you, but I'm ready for something to eat. How about we stop somewhere before you head home?"
Taken aback, she said, "You're inviting me to have lunch with you?"
"Why not?"
"Well, for a start, we might have agreed to put our differences behind us, but that doesn't mean we particularly like each other much."
"Are you so convinced of that, Brianna," he asked gently, "or is it just wishful thinking on your part?"
Both his tone and his question stopped her short. For the past several years she'd clung to the belief that he was a liar and a cheat. It had made losing him a little more bearable. After all, she prided herself on having some brains, and what woman in her right mind wanted to tie herself to a man incapable of fidelity?
Since her arrival on his doorstep, though, and from a couple of rather ambiguous remarks on his part, not to mention that unpremeditated, devastating kiss, she was no longer sure of anything. Last night, when the first doubts crept in, she'd told herself her imagination was in over-drive. Today, she'd been forced to confront a reality so stark it left nothing to the imagination.
Like it or not, she and Dimitrios were allies against a fearsome, wicked enemy. Although they were both hurting, his pain ran deeper; deep enough that he was regarding her now with a dark, almost pleading urgency that tugged at her heart.
But could she trust her heart, this time around? Could she trust him?
Sensing her reluctance, he said, "I'm inviting you to have lunch, Brianna, not asking you to sell me your soul, and I promise not to have your food poisoned."
"It never occurred to me that you might," she said, shaking off her doubts. "And yes, I'd very much like to have lunch with you, as long as your driver doesn't mind being kept waiting."
"I pay Spiros to be where he's needed, when he's needed. He can take us to the taverna I have in mind, or we can walk, if you'd rather. It's not too far."
Finding herself in the back seat of the Mercedes with a Dimitrios who, despite the anxieties plaguing him, grew more appealing by the second, was a bit too potent a mix for her to swallow. "It's such a lovely day, why don't we walk?"