Breaking the Greek's Rules

by Anne McAllister

  “That’s her problem.”

  “Yours, too.” She couldn’t seem to help herself. “If you get married without knowing each other well, without thinking things through—”

  “I could end up like you did?”

  Daisy rocked with the punch of his words. “What?”

  “That isn’t why your marriage didn’t work?”

  “No, of course it isn’t!” Daisy felt the heat of his accusation. But she denied it, and it wasn’t a lie, either. “And we’re not discussing my marriage.” She wrapped her arms across her chest, as if they would defend her. Fat chance.

  “Why didn’t it, then?” he persisted.

  “This is not about me!”

  He raised his brows. “Maybe I’m trying to learn from your mistake.”

  “You and I are not likely to make the same mistakes.”

  Alex shrugged. “How will I know if you don’t tell me?”

  “I’m not going to tell you, Alex! My marriage is none of your business.” She shoved away from the door and jerked it open. “I think you should go.”

  But Alex didn’t go anywhere. On the contrary, he turned and flopped down into one of the armchairs, settling in, folding his arms behind his head. “Not yet. I want to hear why I shouldn’t pop the question.”

  Daisy wanted to strangle him. But the quickest way to get him out of her life was to answer his questions. So she did. “Because,” she said slowly and with the articulation of an elocution teacher, “you don’t want to get a divorce. Do you?” she challenged him. “Maybe you don’t care whether you do or not because you won’t care about her.”

  “I don’t want a divorce,” he said evenly. The green eyes glinted.

  Daisy shrugged. “Fine. Then take your time. Make sure you’re on the same page. That you want the same things. That … Oh, hell, why am I telling you this? You don’t understand!”

  He cocked his head. “Weren’t you on the same page, Daisy?” He sounded almost sympathetic now.

  She pressed her lips together and didn’t answer.

  He gave her a little half smile. “Are you going to marry again?”

  “I doubt it.” She turned away, then turned back and shrugged. “Maybe someday. It depends.”

  “On?”

  “On whether or not I’m in love with him.”

  Alex’s jaw clenched.

  Daisy smiled. It was a painful smile, hard-earned. “Yes, love. Still. I want the whole package, Alex. Now more than ever.”

  Alex didn’t move. A muscle ticking in his temple was the only betrayal of anything beyond casual interest in what she had to say. Then, with studied nonchalance, he rose slowly. “I wish you the joy of it then.”

  “And I you,” Daisy said automatically.

  He gave her a sardonic look.

  “No, truly.” She almost put a hand on his arm as he passed. But then she laced her fingers together instead. Still, she looked up at him earnestly. “I mean it, Alex. You deserve a wonderful life. I hope … Caroline is the right woman for you. I hope she gives you what you want.”

  He had stopped and was standing now, quite close. She kept her gaze on the rise and fall of his chest, knew that she could reach out and touch him. Knew she should back away. But she didn’t. She stayed quite still and met his gaze. “Regardless of what you think, marriage is more than you expect. You should … take your time, get to know this … woman you’re considering marrying. Make sure it’s right for both of you.”

  Alex stood staring at her as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth.

  Daisy couldn’t believe them, either. It wasn’t any of her business. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself. And maybe she did owe him the benefit of her experience with Cal. Certainly it had taught her something.

  “No matter what you think you want out of marriage,” she finished, “it can surprise you. You shouldn’t take it lightly.”

  Alex’s eyes narrowed further, and she expected he would tell her to mind her own business. But his jaw just tightened again, then he nodded. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  Their gazes locked—all the electricity flowing through New York City at that moment had nothing on what arced between them.

  Then, carefully, consciously, Daisy swallowed. “Have a good life, Alex.”

  For a long moment he didn’t reply, and she couldn’t read his gaze. Then he said flatly, “I will. Shall I invite you to the wedding?”

  No! It was her gut-level response. But she squelched it. “When you’re sure she’s the right one,” she said slowly, “I would be delighted to come.”

  Alex’s lips pressed together in a thin line. He nodded, then walked past her wordlessly out the door.

  She closed it after him, leaned back against it, knees wobbling. Only after the sound of his footsteps had long faded away, did Daisy breathe again.

  Moving on.

  That’s what her father always used to say when Daisy or her sister got all wrought up about something they could do nothing about. He’d listen to them anguishing for, oh, maybe thirty minutes, and then he’d say, “Can you do anything about it?”

  They’d say, “No.”

  And he’d flash them his sunny grin and say, “So … moving on …”

  He didn’t mean, get over it. He meant, stop dwelling on it. Get past it.

  You might still ache with disappointment. You might remember it forever. But you’d done all you could do. Now it was time to pull up your socks and move on.

  Daisy moved on.

  She still thought about Alex. How could she not? She had loved him once. He was the father of her child, even if he didn’t know it. She owed him for that—for Charlie. And she wished things could have been different.

  But they weren’t.

  Life moved on, and determinedly Daisy moved on with it. She did her work. She introduced a great couple, Debbie whom she’d met at a yoga class and Mark, who played baseball with Cal, and was delighted when they seemed to hit it off. She wasn’t losing her touch with other people at least. Cal bought Charlie a point-and-shoot camera, and she went with the two of them for walks in the park and on the streets and took loads of pictures. It was fun to discover Charlie’s interest, and restful to be with him and Cal.

  Every time her thoughts drifted to Alex and she wondered if he’d proposed yet, she deliberately focused them elsewhere. So she wasn’t even thinking about him the Sunday evening before Thanksgiving when Cal came into the kitchen and asked, “Whatever happened with Alex?”

  Her ex had stopped by that afternoon to take Charlie for a bike ride in the park. When they’d come back, Daisy had invited him to stay for leftovers. After, he’d helped Charlie build a fire station with his Legos. Now Charlie had gone upstairs to get ready for his bath while Daisy put dishes in the dishwasher.

  She felt a moment’s jolt at the sound of his name. But then she just shrugged. “No idea. Haven’t seen him for a while. I believe he’s got a woman in his life. He seems to think she’s ‘the one.’” Daisy couldn’t help adding that.

  Cal looked at her closely. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not,” Daisy said, dropping forks in the silverware slots. “He was never the man I thought he was. He still isn’t.”

  “Life sucks,” Cal said with a faint grin.

  “It has some good bits,” Daisy countered, nodding toward the stairs where they could both hear Charlie banging around in the upstairs hall.

  Cal’s grin widened. “You’re right. It does.” He shoved away from the doorjamb and flexed his shoulders. “I’ll be going then. Thanks for letting me take him to the park.”

  “Anytime.” She walked to the front door with him and kissed him on the cheek and he gave her a hug. Then he shrugged on his jacket. “I’ll pick Charlie up Thursday morning. I told my folks we’d be up there by noon.”

  Daisy nodded and forced a smile even as she felt her throat tighten. “He’ll have so much fun.”

  Cal was taking Charlie to his parents’ ups
tate for Thanksgiving. They wouldn’t be back until Sunday morning. The thought of rattling around by herself for four days was horrible. But it was good for Charlie and for Cal and his family. It was a part of the life they’d made.

  “My folks are really looking forward to it,” Cal said. He looked at her closely. “You can come if you want.” He must have seen some of the hollowness she felt.

  Daisy shook her head. “Thanks, but I can’t. You know that.”

  If she did Cal’s parents might think there was hope of them getting back together. They had been upset when she and Cal divorced. Now they seemed to be coming to terms with the way things were. It wouldn’t do to get their hopes up again.

  “You’re probably right. No, you are right. It’s just—I’m sorry. Especially this year.”

  Daisy shrugged. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’m going to Finn and Izzy’s. It will be chaos. I’ll never miss you. What do you have planned?”

  “Going fishing if the weather stays warm enough. Chopping wood otherwise. Getting ready for winter.” He grimaced.

  “You’ll have fun.”

  “Charlie will make it fun. He and Dad are something else when you get them together.” Cal shook his head, grinning. “Like two kids.”

  “I’d guess there were three.” Daisy cocked her head and smiled at him.

  Cal rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “Well, yeah.”

  Their eyes met, both of them rueful.

  “Moving on,” Daisy said with all the briskness she could muster.

  And Cal nodded resolutely. “Moving on.”

  He went out, and Daisy locked the door after him. Then she went back into the living room, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. Was Alex having Thanksgiving with the woman in his life? Or was he working on one continent while she was on another?

  What did she care? Daisy asked herself irritably.

  She didn’t, damn it. But sometimes moving on felt curiously like walking through molasses with her shoelaces tied together. Hard and lonely.

  She felt suddenly very, very cold.

  CHAPTER SIX

  FINN and Izzy’s at Thanksgiving was chaos. Finn’s nieces, Tansy and Pansy, were both there, along with Rip and Crash, Finn and Izzy’s sons, and a dozen or so other friends, several slightly giddy from having spent the night before over by the Museum of Natural History where all the gigantic balloon floats for the annual parade were being inflated.

  Daisy had gone to the MacCauleys’ early and she’d stayed late. Friday she’d spent the entire day catching up on photo editing. More often than she’d liked, she’d been tempted to open the folder where Alex’s photos were.

  Every time, she’d steeled herself against it and had resisted.

  Saturday was harder. Her backlog of work was gone. The house was reasonably clean. The laundry was done, folded, put away. The rugs vacuumed, the furniture dusted. She supposed she could clean the oven, but that seemed like taking things too far.

  Instead she took the dog Murphy for a long walk in the park, then decided to do some Christmas shopping. Closer to Christmas, stores would be jammed. Of course, they were on Saturday, too. But it wasn’t as lonely as being home by herself, wondering if Charlie and Cal were having a good time.

  Wondering what Alex was doing.

  It was a relief when Cal and Charlie got back late Sunday afternoon. Charlie was full of stories about hiking in the woods and stacking firewood.

  “No, I didn’t let him chop it,” Cal said before she could ask.

  “An’ we caught fish,” Charlie told her, hopping from one foot to the other. “We got pictures. Look.”

  Daisy admired the pictures Cal had taken of Charlie and the fish. One of them, though, startled her as his expression in it was so much like Alex’s. She never thought he looked like Alex. She really didn’t know who he looked like, except that he had her color hair. But in that photo of him grinning up at his grandfather she could see that he had Alex’s profile. It made her catch her breath.

  “What’s wrong?” Cal asked.

  “Nothing,” she said, papering over her surprise. “I was just amazed at the size of the fish.”

  “It was huuuuuge,” Charlie told her proudly. He spread his arms to their fullest extent.

  “Well, maybe not quite that big,” Cal said.

  But to Charlie it was the biggest fish in the world, and he’d had the best time in the world. And he proceeded to tell Daisy all about it after Cal went home and all through dinner and during his bath.

  And Daisy nodded and smiled as she listened to her son’s nonstop commentary. He’d had a wonderful time. She was glad he had gone. Glad Cal and his parents had had the joy of him.

  Mostly, though, she was glad he was home again.

  And when she went to bed that night, she thought, I can do this. I’m going to be fine.

  She and Cal could cope with trading Charlie back and forth. Charlie wasn’t a basket case. He was a normal happy little boy. Life was good.

  She didn’t think about Alex—or his perfect woman.

  At least she tried not to.

  “How much longer till Christmas?” Charlie asked. He’d been asking for the past four days, ever since he’d got back from Cal’s parents’.

  “Oh, a long time,” Daisy said, tucking him into bed. She’d been saying the same thing every day since, too, because a person who was Almost Five had no concept of time, and she’d quickly discovered that if she said “soon,” Charlie expected it to be “right after lunch.”

  “And my birthday?”

  “Not quite as long.”

  Charlie made a face. “They should hurry up.”

  “All in good time.” Even though she had caught up on things over Thanksgiving already, four days later, she felt her to-do lists getting longer by the minute. Lots of people suddenly remembered they wanted family photos for Christmas, and Daisy, understanding the desire, tried not to disappoint any of them.

  She had other jobs, too. Most were from repeat customers who wanted her to do some editorial work, and a promo for a boutique in Soho. But one phone call the day after Thanksgiving had surprised her.

  “This is Lauren Nicols,” the woman had said when Daisy answered. “You did the photos for my piece on Alexandros Antonides.”

  “Oh! Yes, of course. I hope they were suitable,” Daisy said, her heart quickening.

  “More than,” Lauren Nicols said warmly. “I was delighted. Alex told me you’d be good, but they were better than I’d hoped. The black and white surprised me, but it was perfect. You caught the man.”

  “I hope so,” Daisy said honestly. “I tried.”

  “Oh, you did,” the other woman assured her. “I wondered if you’d be willing to do some more for me.”

  “Of Alex?” Daisy asked, startled.

  “No, Alex’s article is in production. But I do other personality pieces for trade periodicals, usually three or four a month. Would you be interested in working with me on a couple of them at least?”

  “I—” Daisy stopped herself before she could refuse, because really, why should she? She had enjoyed doing the photo shoot of Alex, and what better way to make sure her brain kept him in the “business” folder of her mind than to start filling it with other assignments, as well? “Yes,” she had said. “I’d like that.”

  And so she had two shoots for Lauren to do before the holidays, as well.

  “Go to sleep,” she told Charlie now. “It will get here sooner.”

  “How much sooner?”

  Daisy bent and kissed him good night. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  Charlie made a face. But eventually he screwed his eyes shut, and Daisy, knowing that was going to be his best attempt, smiled and turned out the light. “Night, Chaz,” she said softly. Then she pulled the door and went down the hall to her office where she’d be working until midnight at least.

  First on the docket were the wedding photos she’d taken last night. Wednesday night wed
dings weren’t common, but this had been a small intimate affair to which Daisy had been thrilled to be invited—and eager to take the photos.

  They were her wedding present to the couple because both the bride and the groom were “hers.”

  Seeing Rafaela Cruz, a tech at Murphy’s veterinarian’s office, and Gino Martinelli, a cop who lived in Finn MacCauley’s building, standing at the altar together made Daisy’s heart sing for she had helped them find each other.

  When she’d learned that besides being a photographer, Daisy was a matchmaker, Rafaela had said, “Huh. Not sure I believe in that.”

  “Some people don’t,” Daisy had replied. She wasn’t in the market to twist anyone’s arm. But Rafaela had wanted to know more because, as she said, “I don’t believe there’s any good men left.” So Daisy had spent time talking to her, trying to discover who, beneath her bluster, Rafaela really was.

  Even when she finally said she wanted to try it, Rafaela had had her doubts.

  And she and Gino had definitely not been “love at first sight.”

  Gino, who was Rip MacCauley’s soccer coach, had been badly burned in an earlier relationship. But somehow he was the one Daisy had thought of when Rafaela had challenged her to “prove there’s one good man.”

  “Come watch him coach,” Daisy had suggested.

  Rafaela had dismissed the idea. “I don’t want a coach. I want a husband.”

  “You want a patient man,” Daisy said. “A man who works hard and values kids and will be there for you and your family no matter what.”

  “Yes, but—” Rafaela had protested.

  “Maybe Gino could be that man. Unless you’re afraid to try?” Daisy had challenged her right back. Then she’d turned around and challenged a reluctant Gino, too.

  “She’s too pretty,” Gino had said. “She’ll want some hotshot stud.”

  Daisy had just looked him up and down. “And you’re not a stud?”

  Gino had laughed at that. “All right. Bring her on.”

  They’d been cautious to the point that Daisy sometimes wanted to bang their heads together. But gradually Rafaela and Gino had faced their doubts, had given each other a shot. Had discovered in each other what Daisy had seen from early days. Over the summer they had fallen in love.