“You knew she was having problems?” His tone was gentler.
The first personal words he’d given her, they brought him—the old Markus—so close she could almost feel him, and her voice quavered as she replied. “Yes. She said her boyfriend had hit her once or twice, but when I tried to discuss it with her, she’d shut down. If only I . . .”
“This must’ve been a huge shock then.” He leaned against the side of the desk, his mouth moving into a soft smile. The door opened and a young woman carried in a silver tray bearing two bottles of mineral water and two squat crystal tumblers. She placed the water and glasses on the desk and left.
He continued. “She said she was planning to let you know she was in Cyprus, but she went into early labor and became very sick. I promised that if anything happened, I’d arrange for Phoebe and Zoë to have the best possible care, and that I’d contact you at the first opportunity . . . which I did.”
He unscrewed a bottle and poured the water into a glass before passing it to her. Her hand looked pale and small against his, and for a moment, she remembered how secure she felt when he used to hold it. “It was difficult to track you down,” he said.
She heard the insinuation in his voice. The implied question about how stable, how reliable she’d be in the future forced her to reply. “You know the fragrance world,” she said, hating that she had to explain. “I travel a lot and was at a conference in Paris when you called. But that’ll all change when I take Phoebe and Zoë back to Brentwood Bay. My foster parents want to help me take care of the girls, and when I’m ready I can take on new development work in the US arm of the business.”
He walked over to the window and stood with his back to her. The fingers of one hand drummed his other elbow. He’d done that in the past when he’d thought deeply about something.
No, she would not remember.
He spoke again; his voice cool, controlled. “This is a difficult situation. I’m custodian of two vulnerable children whose existence I didn’t know of ten days ago. I must be certain—”
“The custodian . . .” His choice of word caused her throat to catch.
His face read irritation, but his voice remained steady. “As Polly asked, they’re under my guardianship and arrangements have been made for their care.”
She pushed back her chair as she stood. “I know you’ve stepped into a terrible situation, and I’m so grateful for it. But you’ve done everything you need to, and now I’m here to take over. Polly was in state care as a child, so the girls have no grandparents or aunts and uncles. The babies are fragile and . . . motherless, Markus.”
She sucked in her top lip, grateful he was still turned away so he couldn’t see it wobble. The grief she’d kept bottled up for the past few weeks, as she’d tried to establish Polly’s whereabouts, was now inching its way out.
“I’m sorry.” She swayed, her legs barely able to hold her. “This is a very emotional time and I want...” Her words were a tight whisper. “I just want what Polly would’ve wanted.”
He lifted his square jaw higher so the shadow on it appeared a shade darker. “I completely understand that, but you must see the position I’m in. Polly asked me to do my absolute best for her daughters, and I intend to do just that.”
His words thudded in her ears, and she fell back a step as if she’d been struck.
“You don’t think being with me would be the best option? Are you referring to what happened with us?”
“Of course, I am, Olivia. You walked out on our relationship without any warning, and aside from that, you’ve never lived in one place any real length of time. The girls need consistency now. Stability.”
It was the first time he’d said her name, and the way his voice caressed and smoothed the syllables, as he’d done so many times before, softened her response to his suggestion. “I’m here for Phoebe and Zoë now, aren’t I?”
He shrugged. “Anyone can turn up for a day.”
She swallowed. Was she alienating him with her words? But she knew deep in her heart they had to work together. They had to acknowledge the power of the past—their intimate knowledge of each other— and then bulldoze those great boulders out of their way.
It was time to change focus. “I really want to see them, Markus.” She couldn’t cover the crack in her voice.
He rubbed a hand across his jaw, and she let out a slow breath. “I know you’re protecting them, and that’s what I knew you’d do. We’ve got a lot to go through before all the paperwork’s done, but I have to see them. See the last two things Polly touched.” The tears fought their way to the surface, and she struggled to keep them at bay. “This is unexpected for me as well.” Her voice tripped as a tear began its path down her cheek. “At least let me see them. Please.”
He began to speak. “It’s—” Then his gaze met hers and the look on his face changed.
Could he still care, at least enough to be moved by her sadness? She dragged the inside of her wrist across her cheek. Despite wanting to give in to the weight of her grief, she had to stay in control. For Phoebe and Zoë.
“Of course, you can see them.” He looked at his watch. “At five o’clock this afternoon. They fed at seven this morning, so if their routine’s on track, that should work.” He moved briskly across the room to the door, clearly expecting her to leave.
“Where? Where should I meet you?” Anticipation fluttered in her stomach.
“There’s a square, right in front of the Byzantine Museum. We’ll be there at five o’clock.”
“I could come to your home,” she said suddenly. “So the girls aren’t unsettled.”
His features moved again, and the curtain of his defenses closed once more. “The square is fine. I must protect Phoebe and Zoë in the meantime, Olivia, from anything that might compromise their stability. For now, they’re with me, and until I get an indication that you have their best interests at heart, that you’re not going to run when everything gets too difficult . . .” He nodded. “That’s the way it’ll remain.”
Despite being late afternoon, the majestic Cypriot sun sent a blanket of heat across the ancient square. In the distance, people sat around tables, talking and drinking long coffees, and a priest, like a blackbird on the wing, made his way up the steps of a church.
Although she’d traveled all over the world for business, it was rare for Liv to be somewhere foreign on her own. Normally she’d have drivers and personal assistants to take care of things for her, but she’d chosen to take this on alone. Alone with the man she’d once loved and with her sense of inadequacy at the possibility of being a parent . . .
But she’d steeled herself, and here she was.
Phoebe and Zoë were all that mattered in the world, and she was desperate to see them.
The smell of barbecued food teased her senses, and her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast. In fact, she’d eaten very little in the last few days since learning of her best friend’s death.
Markus had called a week ago. He’d been polite, detached on the phone at first, but gentle when he gave her the heartbreaking news. Much of what he’d said had been lost between Liv’s sobs, but she’d gained enough understanding to know she had to get to the girls as quickly as she could.
She scanned the square, wringing her hands at the thought of seeing Markus again. A sense of awareness flushed her cheeks as she turned, and then her heart hit her throat.
There he was. There they were. Markus and the girls were turned slightly away from her at the edge of the square.
For some reason, she’d expected a nanny, or his mother, would be with him to take responsibility for the tiny babies—that he’d have very little to do with their day-to-day care.
But Markus, dressed in a sleek black suit, and looking more protective, more natural than she could ever have imagined, stood alone, carefully rocking a double stroller backward and forward.
Phoebe and Zoë—all that was left of Polly—were just a few feet from Liv now, an
d she instinctively moved forward, her breath jamming her already clogged chest.
One of the babies let out a cry and Markus bent down, carefully removed the sunshade, and lifted a tiny bundle into his arms.
And the power of seeing it—the love and wonder and longing that swept the length of her body and gripped tight around her heart—made Liv falter.
She’d assumed he’d be the same hurried and hyper man she remembered. That he’d want her to take the babies off his hands as quickly as possible so he could get on with taking risks and putting himself first.
But the way he held that precious gift of a girl in the crook of his arm, with his head bent toward her face and his lips moving in a whisper, made something unravel in Liv’s chest. In her wildest dreams, she’d never have believed Markus Panos could be so giving, so responsible.
She made her way slowly toward them. As she got nearer, she couldn’t speak, the muscles of her throat too crushed by the beauty of what she saw: father and . . . daughter?
As he returned the quietened baby to the stroller, she edged closer and could now see Phoebe and Zoë as two perfect bundles. Their identical heads, as round and smooth as river stones, peeked above dusky pink blankets, and their tiny hands were placed in the same position by each of their rosebud mouths.
Fresh tears filled her eyes as she knelt and held out a hand to touch. The warmth of two little bodies seeped into her soul. Their breath, like a forgotten whisper, reached her straining ears.
She sensed Markus step away.
The sadness of the whole situation scrambled her thoughts. Why had Polly been so secretive in her life recently? Why had she never even mentioned meeting up with Markus? And why, oh why, hadn’t Liv found her friend in time?
Despite witnessing Markus’s care with the girls just now, he’d said he saw himself as custodian to these precious babies. Treating their happiness as a problem to solve or a challenge to tackle wasn’t enough. They needed a loving parent.
Not being a relative to Polly meant Liv’s legal rights were zero, but although her experience with children was nil, she knew to her deepest heart that she would love these children as madly and deeply as if they were her own.
“They’re gorgeous,” she whispered, hoping she could make a deeper connection with Markus, lay the groundwork for the discussion that had to be continued. “I never imagined they’d be so tiny.”
He stood by, silently watching, and Liv rose from where she knelt to create some link between them, between him and her need to reach out, to smile, to connect . . . “I’m sorry you’ve had to become involved with this. If I’d . . . If things had worked out differently, I could’ve been here and . . .” Sorrow crashed over her. “I couldn’t find her. I didn’t even know she’d left Italy. But none of that matters now. What’s important is that I’m here to take the girls back to Brentwood Bay as Polly would’ve wanted.”
She should’ve done more, and the pain of knowing she’d let Polly down seared deep.
He removed his glasses in the slow, deliberate way that reminded her how strong and confident he was.
“We’ll work this out, Olivia. For the sake of Phoebe and Zoë, we’ll find the best possible future for them, but for their stability in the meantime, it’s best they stay with me.”
He spoke as if she were a stranger, not a woman he’d once held and said he’d rather stop living than be without her. Her heart spasmed as she forced herself to speak, and frustration muscled its way between sorrow for all she’d lost and the measured tone of her words.
She breathed long and deep. “What you’re doing, what you’ve done for Polly and the girls, is amazing, Markus, and I know it’ll take some time to work things out.”
He gripped the handle of the stroller before he spoke with quiet conviction, his words wrapping her tight. “I’ve only done what someone committed to the best for Phoebe and Zoë would do, and I hope you’ve got that sort of commitment too.”
Bam.
In one sentence he’d reached the heart of this entire dilemma, past and present together, and she ached. Because she’d left him in the past, he didn’t think she had the commitment to be there for the girls for the rest of their lives.
She pushed the past aside—she couldn’t let it matter now. All that mattered was Phoebe and Zoë, and she wasn’t going to leave here without them.
2
Liv sat in the waiting room of the court appointed social worker the next morning, numbly staring at a poster.
Aphrodite’s Rock, it announced. A collection of rocks that stuck out from a cobalt sea, with one in particular rising majestically above the others as waves crashed around it. Underneath was written: The birthplace of the goddess. The island of love. Cyprus.
Here she was—on this island of love—and the man who’d once meant more to her than any other was outside on the pavement talking into his phone, instead of inside sitting beside her.
The irony caused breath to rush from her lips as she thought about what had brought her to this island. This might be the place Aphrodite was born, but the goddess of love wasn’t doing her any favors right now.
She ached to see Phoebe and Zoë again, to breathe in their soft baby scent and feel their tiny fingers curl tight around hers.
“Ms. Bailey,” a woman said as she stepped out from the interior office. “I’ll see you now.” Although she looked Cypriot, with her black hair pulled into a pony tail, she spoke perfect English, with a Canadian accent.
Liv turned and hesitated, the fingers of one hand kneading her palm as she waited to catch Markus’s eye through the window. He looked so distant, so obviously interested in things that didn’t concern her anymore, and part of a life she’d never know.
He turned and saw her, his chin kicking up in acknowledgment, and so Liv pulled her shoulders back and walked past the social worker, every muscle taut in anticipation of the custody discussion they’d be having this morning.
“Now, we can begin,” the woman said from behind her desk once they were all seated. Markus sat on Liv’s left. His proximity—and trademark wood and cinnamon scent—soothed her stretched nerves.
“I’m Ana-Maria Clerides, the social worker in this case. I assume everyone’s comfortable if this interview is conducted in English?”
They both nodded.
“We’re here today because Ms. Bailey has filed an application to take the children in question to the United States,” Ana-Maria said.
Liv nodded and was aware of Markus, motionless at her side. How would he react today? Would he agree, protest, or do something different altogether? She hadn’t seen him since yesterday in the square and wished she had some idea whether her presence had softened or strengthened his resolve.
She let her breath go slowly as the silence lengthened and he said nothing.
He was still holding back, still not giving in as easily as she’d hoped, but then he wouldn’t be the deep-thinking, caring man she’d known if he’d immediately given up the girls and walked away. For a moment she let that memory of him sit softly in her chest.
“These babies were born in Cyprus, Ms. Bailey. So, it’s up to the local authorities to make decisions about their welfare.” Ana-Maria nodded toward Liv before moving her gaze to Markus. “And, as the names of neither the babies’ father nor their next of kin were put on hospital records, and Mr. Panos was listed as a local contact, he’s been granted temporary custody.”
The social worker sat back in her chair and regarded them both, her brow tightening. “And now you wish for them to be taken to the US?”
“Yes,” Liv replied immediately, hoping Markus maintained his silence. “I’ve explained everything in my application.”
He crossed his ankles and opened his mouth but before he could reply, the social worker continued.
“We do, of course, put the children first in these sorts of situations,” she said. “It’s not just a matter of who puts forward the best case for custody. I’m sure you can appreciate that we have
to be certain Phoebe and Zoë will receive the highest level of care now that their mother has died. In most situations, we’d expect the other parent—the father, in this case—to have physical custody.”
Parents. The word settled itself deep inside Liv, touching a part she’d kept carefully locked down for two whole years. The thought of being completely responsible for a tiny human had always terrified her and reminded her of her own devastation when she’d lost her mother and father in a skydiving accident. And because she’d always pushed away discussion of it when she and Markus were together, being here now, fighting him for that right, was causing her more pain than she’d imagined.
The social worker’s words cut through her thoughts. “Since your temporary custody order was granted, Mr. Panos, the authorities at the hospital have raised some queries about the long-term placement of the girls,” Ana-Maria said. “Apparently you weren’t at the babies’ birth. Is that right?”
“That’s correct.”
“You realize that regardless of whether you or Ms. Bailey is granted final custody, the court has a duty of care to establish paternity. We wouldn’t want someone shirking their child support responsibilities regardless of whether these babies stay here or go to the United States.”
Her insinuation was clear. They wanted Markus to take a paternity test.
“Of course,” he said coolly, and Liv breathed a private sigh of relief. Although she wasn’t sure why he’d said he couldn’t tell her the truth until after this meeting, at least now she’d find out one way or the other.
Ana-Maria continued. “If, after a DNA test, Mr. Panos is found not to be the father, there will be quite a process to go through before final custody is determined. We will also need to investigate whether there are any grandparents who might have a custody claim. If we find no immediate family, the family court judge will decide who’s the most suitable guardian on the basis of psychological and social assessments, as well as visits with each of you and the girls. Of course, the best result in that case would be if you could come to a custody agreement yourselves and then have it ratified by the court.”
A Family for Good : A sweet, small town, second chance romance (Tall Dark and Driven Book 6) Page 2