"We're homesick," Ophelia announced, moving to throw her arm around Calli. "I wanted her to take me back to the island, since technically she's still your wife and owns half of our old house, but she said it wouldn't be right." Ophelia wrinkled her nose at him. "Care to weigh in with a different opinion?"
"You may use the house anytime," Stavros offered with an offhand shrug.
"See?" Ophelia beamed smugly at Calli.
"If you could give us a few minutes of privacy right now."
"Oh." The girl's smile fell away. "Fine. I'll go to my room and put in my earbuds so you grown-ups can talk."
Don't go, Calli wanted to say as Ophelia went down the hall and a door firmly closed. She wasn't prepared for this. She had convinced herself she would never see Stavros again.
And she had felt like she was slowly bleeding out because of it.
"Calli-you don't have to work." He touched his forehead, pained, adding impatiently, "Of course, you don't know that because you're not at the penthouse. If you were, you would have received the courier envelope from Norma, explaining that the Underwoods have made you a settlement offer. For what it's worth, Brandon will have to give up his own babies-those precious horses of his-to even approach the number I suggested was a good opener."
"What?"
"Do not sign anything until you discuss it with me or Takis. You sell yourself way too short in these kinds of things. Soak him, damn it. Give it all to charity after, if you can't stand to take it, but wring him dry."
He sounded positively bloodthirsty. "Is that why you're here? To discuss that? Because-"
"No." He frowned. "I'm here because..."
"Oh, were there other papers I should have signed?" Something worse occurred. "Your grandfather didn't back out, did he? Oh, Stavros-"
"Calli, be quiet." He ran a hand down his face, then held out his palm as if requesting patience. "I shouldn't be snapping at you. It's frustration. You weren't answering my texts and you weren't at the flat. Until I actually clapped eyes on you, I was quite worried something had happened."
"I'm fine. I changed my number when I got a new phone, but my email is still the same. You could have tried that."
"Why did you change your phone? I can afford to keep paying your bills. I told you to use our flat." He was back to snapping.
"It's your family's flat. It didn't seem right."
"It's ours. Yours and mine." He stared at her, lips a white line. "I'm not used to being erased from a person's life like this."
Was that hurt in his tone? She dropped her gaze to his polished shoes. "You did a lot for me. I didn't want to keep taking advantage."
"I paid to have one letter written. You're not even wearing the clothes I bought for you. You left the necklace. Everything." Both his empty hands came up, like he couldn't fathom it.
She became acutely aware of her oversize T-shirt and striped leggings, her bare face and feet, the hair she had let air dry after her shower. Her lack of a bra.
She folded her arms.
"Do you love Takis? Is that it?"
"What? No. I told you. I love him like a father or a brother, not like that."
"Do you love me?"
"What?" She had the feeling of a hot spotlight finding her and glaring mercilessly, giving her no place to hide.
He knew. Behind his frustration was a glittering knowledge. Certainty. He was nodding like it was a foregone conclusion.
Her eyes stung and she looked away. "Stavros," she protested weakly.
"You do. You love me 'like that,' but you won't let me take care of you. That doesn't make sense, Calli."
"You don't love me." The words came out thin and dry.
"You're completely content to love in one direction. You love your son without his even knowing you're alive. You love that girl even though she pushes all your buttons." He pointed toward the hall. "I would bet my entire fortune that deep down, you still have something like love for your parents, even though they don't deserve it. You love unconditionally and without reserve, Calli. And you love me. I know you do. But you left me and I finally figured out why. It's because there's one person you don't love. Yourself."
She flinched as though he had struck her and started to turn away, but he caught her back, his hands warm and strong on her arms.
"It wasn't your fault, Calli."
"Don't." She tried to twist out of his hold, but he made her look him in the eye.
"Stop blaming yourself. You think I don't understand? I'm a piece of walking garbage. That's how I've felt since I outswam my father and made it to shore without him. You asked me if I loved you and I couldn't bring myself to saddle you with this." He tapped the place over his heart. "Who could possibly want my love? It's worthless."
"Don't say that."
"I let you go, didn't I? I let you walk away thinking I didn't love you. That you weren't worthy of love. You are. So very much. My love for you takes up so much room in me, I can barely breathe."
"Stavros."
"You're not tainted. You're not a bad mother. You're a warm and loving woman." He cupped her cheeks, filled her vision with the tender look on his face. "Redeem us both, Calli. Tell me I'm worthy of love and let me do the same for you."
Her vision began to blur. She blinked. The hot drops of her tears leaked onto her cheeks. "I've made a lot of mistakes."
"Me, too. But I love you exactly as you are. Now admit you love me, flaws and all."
"I do. I love you." The words hurt, tearing a hole in her heart that immediately filled in a rush, swelling it to painful capacity. She could hardly draw breath, especially when his lips touched hers.
The light kiss was benediction. A cool satin ribbon of touch, then a warmer press. Love. Sweet, sweet love that gently opened to passion. His hand moved into her hair. She stepped into his heat. Their mouths melded, deepening the kiss by increments until they were one being, sharing themselves with the other.
On and on they kissed. Her arms were around his neck, his heart beating so hard in his chest she felt it against her breast.
He drew back to dry her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "S'agapó gynaíka mou." I love you, my wife. "I refuse to divorce you. What do you think of that?"
"I think you're saving me from myself." She tucked her face into his shirt and hugged him tightly. "I'm scared to love this much. To want."
"I've thrown myself off cliffs with less terror than I felt coming after you. Failure was not an option." His hand clenched in her hair. "I told you once that I didn't have a reason to live, but I do. You are that reason, Calli." His arms banded her to him like he would never let her go.
"You have a lot of reasons, Stavros."
"You have a lot of modesty, glykia mou. Do not underestimate what you mean to me."
She drew back, the vastness of it all lodging in her chest. "I wanted to be pregnant," she admitted huskily, laying bare her deepest longing. It was a small test, perhaps, but he passed, easily.
"I wanted that, too." He caressed her jaw. "When you're ready, agápi mou. When you're sure of me, we will make as many babies as you want. And we will always have room for your son."
How did she deserve him? Her face crumpled. "I love you, Stavros."
"I love you, too."
EPILOGUE
OF ALL THE death-defying stunts Stavros had pulled over the years, nothing had left him as keyed up with adrenaline as watching his wife give birth. He'd been utterly helpless, forced to watch her suffer the pain and conquer her fear and push through a feat devised by nature as the ultimate test.
She and his son had come through with flying colors, but ten days later, Stavros was still dry-mouthed and quite certain he would never try that again.
"Is he awake?" Calli murmured drowsily, stirring from her nap on their bed.
Stavros looked from the growing discontent in the face of their swaddled infant to his wife. Her color was good, her smile well rested. Joy shone from beneath her heavy eyelids. She was so beautiful, she flipped his heart.
"He woke a little while ago, but has been trying to latch on to my arm the last few minutes. I thought I'd better bring him to the source. Company will be here soon anyway."
He sat on the edge of the bed and used his free hand to help her sit up. He waited while she arranged a few pillows and sat back, then handed over Lethe, watching as she took him to her breast as though she'd been doing this all her life.
He stole a slow, shaky breath. The boy didn't even weigh eight pounds, but the heft of responsibility he had thrown onto Stavros was profound. He was still coming to terms with it.
"Did I hear the phone earlier?"