One look at Ares, and at the forced smile he’d tried on in order to give their talk a positive start, and Theo let Erianthe slide to the ground, his own smile faltering.
“And that’s what’s happening today too—we’re waiting for something bad to happen.” His gaze tracked from one to the other.
“No!” Erianthe said, too quickly, stepping back and knocking into the table—it was the first crack in her determined optimism to appear. “Well, sort of. But not too bad.”
Theo lifted a dubious brow, and Eri slunk to the kitchen chair opposite Ares to sit down.
“So this is about you two, not about the clinic,” Theo surmised. “And not about planning a surprise baby shower for Cailey...”
“It’s about us,” Ares confirmed.
He might not want to have this conversation—might be completely certain that it would damage his relationship with them all irreparably and put Eri far beyond his reach—but he’d do it straight. For her. He’d be a man. No cowering or trying to talk his way out of it. She deserved that and so did Theo.
“And about what’s been going on—before Dimitri sent her away and since we both came back to Mythelios.”
Theo watched Erianthe sidelong, looking for hints on how he was supposed to feel, and although she had become nervous since Theo had actually shown up, she was still clinging to the morning’s optimism.
“You two were having a fling back then. I know that. And you were the guy they caught her having sex with that prompted the whole convent thing for a few months. I realize that, man. So what’s with the ominous mood?”
“That’s not everything,” Erianthe said, her voice soft from where she sat between them at the small round table. “That’s not really what happened. It was just their story.”
Theo’s fierce frown gave her pause, and for the first time Ares saw that optimism falter. Her brows, worried and pinched, came down over eyes that were just a little too wide.
It was only for a few seconds, but the conversation had turned decidedly when Theo said, in his most level way, “Someone better start talking.”
Even as Theo crossed his arms, she flattened her hands against the tabletop. “They didn’t catch us.”
This was supposed to be his part of the conversation. Ares placed a hand over hers and gave it a squeeze so she’d know he was stepping in.
“Erianthe was pregnant,” Ares said, straight to the point. “I went to Dimitri to ask permission to marry her. He convinced me that sending her to the convent and giving the baby up for adoption was the most reasonable, adult thing to do.”
Convinced? Not precisely the right word. Bullied and tricked came closer, but they were words used to deflect blame, and that wasn’t on the menu today.
To his credit, Theo took it well enough. After his head had snapped back as if he’d been punched, his mouth hung open, his eyes flying to Erianthe’s face as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to feel about it.
There were tears in her eyes.
“He made you give the baby up?” Theo asked, and then realized Ares’s part in it. “And you let it happen? Scratch that. You agreed it was the right thing to do? But when I called you that day to tell you they were sending her away, you acted shocked!”
“I was shocked,” Ares said. “I thought it would be later in the summer. As soon as you told me they’d taken her, I went to the airport. But...”
“But you didn’t get there in time?” Theo filled in, shaking his head.
“No. Not...” Erianthe saw things unraveling, but Ares squeezed her hand to stop her words.
This was his confession to make. This was his fault. He’d never had any illusions about that.
“They took her. I didn’t know where. Just knew it was a convent. Not even what country, initially.”
“And now you have a child out there?” Theo’s words died in his throat as he saw the tears leaking from Erianthe’s eyes. The cogs were all beginning to click into place.
Theo stood up from the table, hands on his hips, and began to prowl the small kitchen, listening, turning red in the face and generally failing to conceal his reaction as Ares told him the story that was still too hard for Erianthe to tell. That might be too hard to hear again for years to come.
Ares didn’t sugar-coat it. He made sure Theo knew what she’d gone through. It was important that all the cards were on the table. Ares was the one telling the story to save her from having to do it. The more upset she was, the more upset Theo would be and the harder it would hit him.
He could see the urge to shout on Theo’s face—but he couldn’t shout at her, not about this, and he didn’t need to. The sense of betrayal was all over his face.
Why didn’t you ask me for help? Why didn’t you trust me?
“You sit there telling me what happened to her, but you don’t know. I knew she’d changed. I knew something was wrong. But she would never say. Same thing since she came back. I thought it was just about our parents, but it’s you. You’re here and she’s reliving it all.”
“I know.” This time Ares meant it.
“Theo...” Erianthe said his name, her tone pleading. She could see it now—what was coming...
“It’s my fault.” Ares stood up and edged around the table, ready to drag Theo out of the house if it came to it. Not that he’d ever hurt Erianthe, but from the look on her face it might already be too much. “What happened to her...what happened to our daughter... It was my fault.”
“That’s not fair. It wasn’t fair of me to say that.” Erianthe stood at the same time as Ares did. “You didn’t send me away—Dimitri did.”
Theo’s eyes narrowed and he lifted both hands to shove Ares by the shoulders, that part of the story seeming finally to click into place and enrage him even further. “You went to Dimitri? What the hell is wrong with you?”
Ares never got a chance to finish speaking. It was as if his will to explain himself had just left, and the next thing Ares knew he was sprawled on his back, pain ringing through his head, and Erianthe was between them, shoving Theo toward the door.
He was shouting something about the clinic and Ares staying away from it if he knew what was good for him. And then something else about his sister deserving better than all that he’d brought her.
As if he didn’t already know that.
She slammed the door and was crouching over him before the room had stopped spinning.
“Oh, gosh, I thought there would be yelling... But I really figured that we’d grown beyond punching. He’ll calm down. He’s just upset because it was a lot to give him at once. It was a lot for him to process. He’ll calm down.”
Her soft hands grabbed at his shoulders, but Ares sat up before she could try to tug him from the floor. “I’m all right.”
“Your eye is really red. And already swelling.”
She tried to urge him to his feet anyway, and he put up both hands to stop her.
“I’m all right, Eri. I can get up on my own.” The words came out more gruffly than he meant them to, but it was as if a train had just hit him, and he had to give her the official terminal prognosis.
She looked into his eyes, then stood and took two swift steps back, wariness creeping into her sweet eyes. “Whatever you’re thinking, you don’t have to do it.”
She did see it. She just didn’t want to see it.
He took a moment and picked himself up, then tracked back to the nearby chair he’d abandoned and sat. As much as he’d imagined how this might go down, during the day that had passed since he’d agreed to it, he had never gotten past this point—the blowup, when it would become obvious that all hope was lost.
He hadn’t prepared himself on how to wrap it up. So there were no words there in his mind to tell her that she had to accept this as his decision. He had no words to make it easier for her to accept.
; “I’m going to take a position in the Central African Republic.”
“No. You need to give Theo time to catch his breath—and you need to catch yours too.”
“I told you he wouldn’t be able to accept this.” He kept his voice gentle. “But it will be better for you now.”
“Better for me? Are you kidding me? You’re giving up after that?”
“I’m not going to make you choose between me and your brother. I cost you a close and open relationship with him before, and you’re not going through that again. Not with a niece or nephew on the way. Not with your mother’s health test pending.”
“Shut up before I hit you in your other eye!”
She went to the refrigerator, grabbed a tray of ice and began cracking the cubes into a kitchen towel.
“You knew this was how it was going to go. What happened—what I did to you, my part in it—is unforgivable to anyone except you because of your capacity for forgiveness,” he said gently.
“Ha! Tell that to Dimitri and Hera!”
He ignored that. She knew better, but she loved him and it colored her decision-making ability. “If I were Theo, there’d have been more than a single fist flying.”
“No, there wouldn’t.” She thrust the towel full of ice at him, still helping him even if she wanted to lash out. “He’s going to calm down, and next time we talk, everything will be easier. If you jump ship now, it’s because you want to go. Just like you always wanted to go. Which is why you never canceled your job—only postponed it. You didn’t need an escape hatch. You needed a scheduled exit and to know exactly when you could get out. Say it to me straight. You want to leave because you don’t love me.”
Her fire just left her as she got to the word love.
He’d been operating on autopilot—it was the only way to do what he needed to do when it was exactly the opposite of what he wanted to do. But that soft, pained statement might as well have been another train hitting him.
“I’m doing this because I love you.” He stood up, ready to go to her if she looked as if she’d accept his comfort. “It hurts, I know...but it’s what you need.”
It took her three swallows to choke his words down. But the way she looked at him was worse than anything. He preferred the Erianthe spitfire who’d slugged him last time he’d wrecked everything. This quiet, brokenhearted creature ripped at his guts.
“My God, you’ve learned nothing from going to Dimitri. Or you’ve learned how to be Dimitri. Making decisions about what is best for me as if I’m a child. Someone for you to be responsible for, not someone you see as an equal.”
She didn’t want his comfort. For sure.
Towel full of ice in hand, he turned around and walked to the back door—out to the patio, toward the cliffs and the sea. What could he say? It was for the best. It was.
Every step of the way he expected her anger to well up and words to be shouted at his back. But she closed the back door to the veranda, and the surf below was making far more noise than she was.
He sat, not wanting to hear her leave.
No slamming doors came. No sound at all, But he felt her go.
She hadn’t even told him to go, just as she’d promised never to do.
* * *
“Hi, Ares.”
Lea answered the door to Deakin’s guesthouse, where they were both living so that renovations could begin to turn the main house into something more hospitable to people than to robots.
Her kind smile made the hair on the back of his neck tingle a warning. It was too much like the kind of gentle expression he had to paste on his face when delivering bad news to a patient or a family.
“They haven’t come, have they?” he asked, not budging from the stoop until he knew.
After Erianthe had moved in with Theo and Cailey, he’d spent two days wallowing in his misery before gearing up his courage to take Deakin up on his offer of help. When a man had nothing left to lose, any decision became somewhat easier. Deakin hadn’t even asked him for details about his request—he’d just agreed to assemble everyone at his house.
They probably all already knew—if he was Theo, he’d tell them all and share his rage. So his plan to confess might be like receiving the answers to a test before you’d taken it, but he still needed to do this. Repent of all his sins in one go. Afterward, they could all kick his sorry ass together.
“They’re on the veranda, waiting for you.”
“Theo too?”
“Theo too.”
Lea touched his elbow, somehow propelling him through the door, which she closed behind him.
“Has he... Has he told everyone what a piece of sh—”
“Don’t do that.” Lea cut him off, then answered, “He hasn’t actually said anything aside from telling us that you and he got into it.”
They didn’t know? For the first time in days he felt a lifting sensation in his chest. “And Erianthe?”
“Erianthe isn’t here.” Lea sounded mildly alarmed. “She had to accompany her mother to Athens.”
Athens? He hadn’t heard that. “Her mother’s results?”
“Benign,” Lea answered, as if she was happy to give him some good news today. “But the lump still needs to come out.”
He nodded his thanks, then followed her in.
Lea led him to the veranda, where his three best friends sat—not talking, just drinking beer. Before he said anything, Lea stepped in closer and asked quietly, “Do you want me to stay?”
She was throwing him a lifeline. With his black eye, anyone would know something was terribly wrong, but someone with training... The look of concern she gave him was worse than the gentle smile before.
“You can stay—but you’re not on the clock. I’m not keeping secrets from family anymore.” She hadn’t married into it yet, but she was with Deakin—that was enough. “And I’ve earned whatever comes from this. More than earned it.”
The wound had been opened. It was now time to clean out the disease.
Deep breath.
* * *
Erianthe had never liked waiting. Now, wandering back into the waiting room at her mother’s chosen Athens hospital, it was worse. Waiting while her long-estranged mother had a granular cell tumor removed made it harder. Doing it after two nearly sleepless nights...? Just fantastic.
Granular cell tumors were generally benign, although rare, and, importantly, they didn’t mean a patient was destined to develop breast cancer. Genetic tests—which Erianthe had talked her mother into—were still out.
Hera might have the two big breast cancer genes—and a long history of the disease on her mother’s side suggested it was likely—but Erianthe was determined to be optimistic and believe she had inherited only one. That would be unnerving enough, and although it made the future scary, with an appropriate testing schedule it was survivable for a long time.
Waiting.
She drew a breath, took the nicely boxed pink stethoscope from her bag and looked at it. She’d left Nyla behind at Ares’s villa, and the stethoscope would help her be less afraid for her baby for the remainder of her pregnancy. Nyla could now listen for the heartbeat herself, and Erianthe would feel less guilty over having left her new friend-patient behind.
Nyla had understood why Erianthe couldn’t stay after the breakup—even without the grittier details, she knew enough about what they’d been up to. Eri didn’t want to ruin Nyla’s chance at steady, well-paid employment, and Ares had actually hired her to manage the estate’s books. She needed a good working relationship with her new boss, and the less she worried, the better it would be for the baby.
Other people waiting for news about a loved one alternated between standing, sitting and walking around, but Erianthe stayed stuck to her chair, not having the energy reserves for restless prowling.
After the Ares and Theo debacle, Are
s’s breaking point had made it clear there was no future for her with him. Some people you could love but still not be able to make things work with.
That was the new callus she had to develop.
Eventually her lower lip would stop quivering when she thought about him. She’d buy her own home and build her own place to remember her daughter, without the scent of him all over it. Nothing to do with lavender. Or flowers. Or labyrinths.
“Nikolaides?” a woman at the desk called, and Erianthe hurried forward to be escorted into a room with the surgeon.
Everything was as she’d expected on that front. All clear. Hera was in Recovery. Erianthe would have a little more time to sit and wait until she could move to her mother’s room and continue sitting and waiting there.
She’d moved in with Theo and Cailey the day after the blowup, and they’d taken her in without hesitation. Her brother hadn’t stayed mad—even at her. He hadn’t even asked why she had cut him out of it all. He had just processed, accepted and made it clear she could talk to him now. Then he’d moved on.
Surprisingly, she wasn’t ready to talk about Ariadne with anyone but Ares. Theo and Cailey knew about her, though, and they’d understand when things got hard for her. That was enough for now—having the freedom to feel whatever she felt without judgment or shame.
Losing Ares this time would be different. This time she knew the answer to the question that had plagued her for years: Could they have survived as a couple if her father hadn’t driven them apart?
No.
Letting their secret out had changed the air, and it would be easier to lose Ares this time.
Forty-five minutes later, Erianthe stood at her mother’s bedside, repeating the good news the surgeon had conveyed. The lump had been easily removed. Not very disruptive to the breast tissue due to its fortunate location. Once the swelling abated, she might not even notice the scar once it had faded.
“Will you call Dimitri and tell him I’m all right?”
Would that she could say no.
Erianthe murmured her agreement, pulled out her phone and dialed. The call was brief, and possibly more taciturn than it needed to be, but it was something.
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