He dropped her off about half a block from the café, reminding her to take her sun hat.
“Yes, Mother,” she said, smiling at him as she jammed the straw hat on her head. “Don’t be long. I’m starved.”
She strolled down the block, glancing at a few windows, but more interested in the people than anything else. As she approached the café, she knew she’d have to use the bathroom, so she stepped around the tables into the cooler interior. As she was about to ask a waitress where the bathroom was, she caught sight of a familiar shape leaning over one of the small tables . . . and a tiny little blond bit of fluff with her head so close to his, they were touching.
“OK, Harry,” she said out loud, ignoring the waitress as she stared at the couple. “This isn’t the end of the world. They work together. There’s no reason they shouldn’t be here having lunch. Just because he’s married and about to become the father to twins doesn’t mean he can’t have lunch with a former girlfriend.”
Brave words, a little voice in her head said as she watched them, hurt pricking the edges of her heart, those cryptic words spoken on the day of her wedding coming back to her.
Does she know?
No.
You are going to tell her soon, I hope.
Dear god, could she have been wrong all along about Iakovos? No, that was insane. She wasn’t wrong. She felt it in her bones. But something was up, and dammit, she wanted to know what. Should I go over and say hi, she thought to herself, and ask Iakovos what the hell he’s doing? Or pass by with a friendly wave, as if it’s nothing to me that they’re here, practically kissing, right in front of everyone? Or, she thought with a sigh, simply go home and remind myself that I trust him.
“God, I hate being adult sometimes,” she snarled as she turned on her heel and went to find Mikos.
CHAPTER 23
“Change of plans,” Harry told Mikos with a smile that she knew was too bright to be convincing. She took his arm and steered him in the opposite direction. “Let’s go to that other place, the one with the yummy calamari.”
He seemed surprised by her change of heart, especially since all she did was pick at the food, but Harry was too angry with herself to eat.
She finished her shopping with grim efficiency and returned home for a short rest. As she entered the apartment, she found Mrs. Avrabos scrubbing the stone wall. The glass and pool of liquor had long since been cleaned up, but a faint pink still stained the stone, which evidently insulted Mrs. Avrabos’ sensibilities.
“You don’t have to do that,” Harry said with an indignant look at the wall, as if it personally offended her. And why shouldn’t it? she thought to herself. The whole apartment offended her. Damn that Patricia! Damn Iakovos!
Harry closed her eyes for a minute, suddenly so tired she felt as if she could sleep for a solid month. Just exactly what was Iakovos doing having an intimate lunch with Patricia? Unable to keep the little spike of jealousy from pricking at her despite her promise to the contrary, she pulled out her phone and dialed a familiar number.
“Hi,” she said, when Iakovos answered. “I don’t suppose you’re free for lunch today?”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’ve got solid meetings all day. Speaking of that—would you be angry with me if I couldn’t go to the doctor with you this afternoon?”
“You don’t want to go see the scan?”
“Of course I want to, but things are insane here today. Bring me the pictures, and I’ll look at them tonight, all right?”
“Sure,” she said, not liking the emotions that were roiling around inside her. “I’ll see you later.”
“All right. Harry?”
“Yes?”
“Are you well? Your voice sounds strained. You’re not trying to do too much, are you?”
Would a man who was out having a sneaky lunch with an ex-lover ask if you were doing too much, the voice in her head asked her. No, he would not. “I’m fine. Just a little grouchy. You know shopping makes me cranky.”
Harry hung up the phone, out of the blue wondering why he couldn’t tell her he loved her. At first she had assumed it was a little game he was playing, his way of getting back at her when she teased him mercilessly about something or other.
But all of a sudden, his inability to say it took on huge importance. “How dare he?” she yelled once she got to the privacy of their bedroom, and promptly hit the REDIAL button.
“What is it, Harry?” he asked, his voice tinged with the tiniest bit of annoyance.
“Why the hell can’t you tell me you love me?” she shouted into the phone. “What’s wrong with you that you can’t say the words?”
Silence was the answer for a good ten seconds. “You want me to tell you that I love you right now?”
“Yes!” she said, brushing away a couple of errant tears. “Yes, I do. I think you should tell me right this very second that you love me, because frankly, I’m tired of waiting for you to get around to remembering it.”
More silence. “Are you angry with me about something?”
“Say the words!” she demanded, tears streaming down her face now.
“All right. Harry, I—”
“No!” she shrieked, interrupting him. “Don’t you say it! Not like that! Never mind. Just ignore me. The pregnancy hormones are making me insane. Good-bye. Have a good . . . meeting.”
She hung up before he could say anything more, then turned off her phone in case he tried to call her.
“Well, as long as I’m making a mess of my life, I might as well go share my gloom,” she said, a sense of righteousness filling her as she stomped out to the living room. She glared at all the offending pieces of furniture made of leather, black glass, and gleaming silver.
“Mrs. Avrabos?” she yelled, her hands on her hips as she stood in the center of the room.
“Yes? You wish something?” the housekeeper emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a little towel.
“I want movers in here this afternoon. Tell them to take everything out of here, every single piece of furniture, every lamp, every picture, every postmodernistic piece of crap artwork.”
The housekeeper gave a confused look around the room. “You want the things . . . removed?”
“Yes, I do. Each and every item here offends me on a personal level that I can’t begin to describe. They blight my existence. I want them gone in the next three hours. I am going to take a bath and then see the doctor, and when I get back, this room had better be empty.”
Mrs. Avrabos nodded, watching with an open mouth as Harry charged down the hall toward the bedroom, pausing at Theo’s room to yell, “You’d better be sober when you get home, Theo, because if you get drunk again, I’ll lay you out so you won’t ever get up.”
Mrs. Avrabos wondered to herself if the kyria knew Theo had left, then decided that it really didn’t matter. She would enjoy seeing the Kyrie’s face when he came home to find his living room gone.
“He loves me, dammit!” she heard Harry yelling from the bedroom. “I know he does! He can just bloody well get with the program and tell me!”
Mrs. Avrabos smiled. She remembered the first few months of her marriage. She recalled doing a little shouting of her own, then. It was the way of things.
Harry said several rude things to no one in particular as she stripped off her clothes and turned on the tub with the wonderful jets that would help relax some of the tension she felt simmering along her skin like electricity.
Mikos was waiting for her when she was once again dressed. She nodded to the three men in overalls who were in the process of moving furniture out of the living room, saying nothing to Mrs. Avrabos but that she wanted pizza for dinner, and she didn’t particularly give a damn if Iakovos didn’t like it.
Her scan was amazing. She could actually see the twins as individual babies now, tucked away safe as they waited in her belly. She was overwhelmed by the thought of them, overjoyed that they were healthy, and furious at the man who had given them to
her because he wasn’t there to see them.
She had the technician save a copy of the video for her on a DVD, which she asked Mikos to drop off at the office after he took her home.
She ate her pizza in solitary grandeur, occasionally glancing at the text from Iakovos. Late meeting. Don’t wait dinner. The bastard.
She fell asleep immediately after eating, and was only dimly aware of Iakovos stroking her back later, asking her if she was hungry.
“Just tired,” she said, trying to find a position that was comfortable. He helped adjust pillows under and around her belly until she could relax again. She woke up in the middle of the night, her bladder about ready to burst, Iakovos sound asleep next to her.
She stared at his face for a minute, wondering if she would ever get tired of looking at him. He was so beautiful—how could any woman resist him? And did she really want to spend the rest of her life worrying about what woman was sharpening her claws in an attempt to get them into him?
“Yes,” she said, brushing a bit of hair back off his brow. “But you could be a little less perfect, you know. You could get a beer belly. You could grow a wart on the end of your nose. You could snore.”
He didn’t wake up, just made a comfy noise when he turned his face into where her hand was stroking his hair. It was a little noise, a wordless, brief expression of comfort, something he probably never in a million years knew he was making, but it went straight to her heart. No man could make that noise and not mean it.
“You love me,” she said, pressing a little kiss to his head before sliding carefully off the bed so as not to wake him. She visited the bathroom, then suddenly hungry, went out to the kitchen and made herself three sandwiches, all of which she ate while sitting on the patio, staring out into the warm Greek night.
Iakovos stood next to the bed the following morning, looking down at his wife as she slept, snoring gently into his pillow, which she had confiscated at some point during the night. That was a regular occurrence of late—frequently he woke up to find himself pillowless, and Harry draped over every available pillow on the bed, her face buried in his.
He stroked her cheek, so soft, so sweet, and wondered why she had chosen yesterday to storm. Something had set her off, that much was clear, but just what it was eluded him. A brief conversation with Mikos had determined that at some point during the day, something upset her, but Mikos had no idea what it was, either.
It was probably the upcoming birth. No doubt she was annoyed that he had been forced to miss going with her to the doctor. She hadn’t even called him to tell him about the scan, nor had she put a note in with the DVD Mikos delivered. But Harry wasn’t the type to remain silent when angry, and she knew he was trying to get through a couple of ticklish deals.
Perhaps it was the language barrier. Although they had been attending prenatal classes, he had to translate all the instructions for her, and he knew it was frustrating to her. Maybe she was just stressed by all of that. He would insist that she hire an assistant of her own. He couldn’t spare Dmitri right now, when negotiations were so critical, but there was nothing to stop her from getting her own assistant to help with things until she learned enough Greek to get around.
“Harry.”
“Nrf.”
He smiled and stroked his fingers down the velvety softness of her upper arm. “Is there something you want to tell me, Harry?”
She opened her eyes, blinked to get him in focus, and frowned. “What?”
“The living room.” He sat on the edge of the bed, one of his hands on her belly. He loved touching it, loved feeling the occasional kicks and movements of the babies.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, groggy from being woken out of a deep sleep. She blinked at him a couple more times. “You must be going to work. You’re in another one of those gorgeous suits.”
He looked down at the navy suit. She’d given it to him for his birthday, saying that when he wore it with his hair swept back off his brow, his beautiful eyes, and perfect face, he looked like a model headed for a Paris runway. “I have to leave for work, yes. The living room, Harry?”
“What about it?”
“It appears to be gone.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, falling back into the nest of pillows. “Rooms don’t just disappear.”
“They do if you call up movers and demand they take everything out of them.”
A memory of her brainstorm the previous day obviously returned, for Harry struggled to sit up. He slid an arm behind her, helping her upright. “Oh. That. I . . . er . . .”
“I know you’re anxious for Patricia to redecorate, but don’t you think we should have new furniture before you move the old out?” he asked with a little smile.
The look she gave him was almost stricken. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll have everything put back.”
“There’s no need. I’m having that done this morning.” He stroked her cheek again. “Are you feeling well?”
“Yes. Just tired.” She lay back, her eyes cloudy. He wondered what it was that was bothering her, but a reminder chirp from his phone warned him he’d have to leave now if he wanted to make the first of what would be many meetings that day.
“I’ll be home for dinner,” he said, leaning forward to kiss her sweet lips. “Wait for me?”
“Till the end of time,” she answered, her lips curving under his.
He left with only the slightest sense of unease.
Harry called herself every name she could think of, and quite a few that came to her in moments of inspiration. How on earth could she even entertain the slightest suspicion that he was doing anything wrong when he was just as perfect as any husband could be? He was loving, he was thoughtful . . . he was her Iakovos, and nothing short of a signed, notarized statement by Iakovos and twelve independent witnesses saying he was having an affair would convince her otherwise.
“You could have just asked him what he was doing,” she told her reflection as she brushed her teeth with her favorite cinnamon-flavored toothpaste. “Heaven knows you blurt out everything else to him.”
Her reflection made a face.
“Yeah,” she agreed with a sigh. “He would have been insulted to think I suspected him. Better to just keep your trap shut.”
It was easier said than done, however. Especially when she returned home from shopping for the last few items needed for the nursery and she found Theo standing in the newly restored living room, his back to her as he spoke on the phone. She hadn’t intended to eavesdrop, but when you walk into a room and you hear someone mention your name, it’s hard not to stand and listen.
“—what if Harry finds out? No, of course I won’t tell her, but she’s smart, Jake, and she’s bound to notice if you’re not around much at night. My advice is to get Patricia out of your little love nest and just let Harry make a decision about what she wants to do.”
Love nest? Patricia? Harry stared in openmouthed horror at Theo’s back, then quietly, without making a solitary sound, slipped out the door. Iakovos wasn’t planning on being around much at night? Where was he going to be? At his little love nest with Patricia?
She felt for a moment like her head was going to explode, then decided she had to do something. She loved Iakovos. He loved her. She knew that. But if he thought he could have a fling with Patricia at the same time, well, he just had better readjust his thought processes.
She flung open the door, making sure it slammed against the wall before strolling into the apartment.
“Hi, Harry,” Theo said, spinning around as he put his phone away, guilt all over his face.
“Sober today, are you?” she asked with acid coolness.
He flashed her one of those heart-stopping grins that might have affected another woman, but not her.
Love nest? With Patricia? Really? That’s the best he could do? If he was going to cheat on her, at least he could do it with someone spectacular, like royalty.
“I’m run
ning some potential investors around town, so I figured I’d better be on my A-game. Thought I would show them the Parthenon. You want to come with us?”
“Another time perhaps. I’m going to be busy today.” The doorman came up laden with the strollers, cradles, and changing tables she’d picked up.
“Ah. Baby stuff,” he said, nodding as he scooted around the stream of men hauling the furniture in.
She directed them to the appropriate room, muttering to herself as she watched Theo slip out the door, “That and I’m going have a long talk with your brother about whether he wants to keep that remaining testicle.”
He called in the afternoon to say that he wouldn’t, after all, be able to make dinner, but he’d be home before she went to bed.
During the intervening hours, she worked up and discarded any number of scenarios, some of them quite inventive in the revenge she was going to take. She was particularly fond of the one where she had him tied to a rock in the middle of the ocean, with a pack of hungry sharks circling around him.
“Hello, sweetheart. You look divine,” he said wearily as he came in, tossing down his laptop bag and briefcase.
Harry watched silently as he collapsed onto the couch. His face looked drawn, the skin beneath his eyes appeared bruised. That’s what burning the candle on both ends did to you, she thought to herself as she moved toward him.
“Did you have dinner?”
He nodded, closing his eyes as he leaned back. “Could you get me a couple of pain tablets? I’ve got a hell of a headache.”
“Good.”
He opened his eyes, lifting his head to squint at her. “Is something the matter?”
“Oh, yes.”
He sighed and closed his eyes. “Not Theo again?”
“No, it’s not Theo. How do you want to do this, Iakovos, the civilized way or the quick way?”
“Do what?” he asked, his hands rubbing his temples.
“Discuss your girlfriend.”
His hands froze. “You saw us yesterday.”
“Yes, I did.”