Back in Dr. Xenakis' Arms

by Amalie Berlin

  “I don’t know how to be in a relationship if there are any bumps,” he said, and then took such a deep breath she wasn’t sure he was going to keep talking.

  Her position had one big drawback—she couldn’t look him in the eye and get any inkling of what he was thinking. All she could do was listen, feel the way his arms tightened around her as if he were afraid she’d pull away again.

  “As much as I hate the way they operate, I’ve been doing the same thing as my parents. Once there’s a serious enough disagreement or wrongdoing, I can’t figure out how it’s possible to get back from there. That’s how relationships end, in my experience.”

  As he spoke—as the subject became more serious and less about the joy of being with him—it became easier to focus and resist the urge to spin and put her arms around him.

  She wanted to say his issue was silly, but she understood before he even began to explain. She’d been there to see a number of his parents’ marriages flame out—to see how many times he’d been angry, or just plain devastated.

  “I’ve watched it happen at least seven thousand times between my parents and whoever they were with.” That came out quiet, but strong, and then he paused as if unsure whether to continue. When he’d taken a moment, his voice was softer. “That’s how it seemed to be for us back then. I’d screwed up to the point at which there could be no forgiveness for me from you. And then it was fresh for Theo when he found out, and he reacted in a way that fit perfectly with how I’d expected it to go. Just checked the expected box.”

  She nodded, the kind of jangly head motion that she could only hope would increase the processing speed of her brain. She understood that he’d believed himself to be unforgivable—might still think that about himself—but not why. She’d once doubted her ability to forgive him—no, not doubted, she’d known she would never forgive him. And then she had, despite it all.

  She squeezed his hand tighter, her heart filling her throat even if she’d wanted to speak.

  “The only person who didn’t neatly fit into one of those boxes for me was you. I’d done the unforgivable, but you forgave me anyway. It took a long time, and maybe time factored into that, but I couldn’t imagine anyone else doing it. Even the men I consider my brothers.”

  “It surprised me too. I never expected I would forgive you, or even that I’d want to. I couldn’t see past my own hurt until I saw yours. Then knowing Theo would never be able to forgive you became a certainty that he would with enough time. If I could, then anyone could.”

  “Do you think it works that way for everyone?”

  “Maybe...” She doubted her ability to forgive Dimitri, but once she’d known for sure that she’d never forgive him. Which was what made her ask, “How did Dimitri end up here, helping with the labyrinth?”

  “Theo,” Ares answered. “I didn’t witness it, but apparently he went directly from the cottage to Dimitri’s door and didn’t stop describing what you’d gone through to your father until he broke him. No one invited Dimitri to help with the labyrinth. He just showed up and worked.”

  She must have made a sound, because he turned her to face him and lifted his hands to brush the building stream of tears from her cheeks.

  Her father had performed an act of contrition for her.

  “I never thought I’d champion Dimitri,” Ares murmured, “but even with all his flaws he does love you.”

  It was the last thing she’d expected to hear. Ever. It hurt to hear it, to know it and to know that her father had been too proud, or too weak, to say those things to her himself. But some pain, as she knew, ran too deep to speak of easily. Or even think about sometimes.

  The tremor that rolled over her made her push her arms under Ares’s jacket and around his waist so she could lean against him and absorb some of his strength. She burrowed in close, until his arms came around her and he began to rock them, there in the candlelight at the center of the labyrinth he’d built to remember their daughter.

  “We all love you and we’re glad to have you home.” He spoke into her hair. “I want this to be your home, Eri. Your last home. With me.”

  He pulled back far enough to let her look up at him, and when he had her gaze, he held it firm.

  “All I need is one more second chance.”

  One more second chance...

  “I get it now. I see how my trust had conditions. But I want to be the kind of man who believes his family will stand by him no matter his mistakes. I still see my actions as unforgivable, but I’m selfish enough to let you decide that. As much as I don’t want to become like my exploding father, I don’t want to become like yours either.”

  All the things she’d longed to hear him say.

  He brushed away her silent tears again and she inched her arms around his neck to urge his mouth toward hers. He wound his arms around her, his mouth so gentle and tender, the slow, sweet crush of his lips against hers unhurried, savoring, soul-shattering.

  If he said nothing else, it would be enough.

  “One more thing,” he said between kisses, and then leaned back enough to pull out of her arms. He stepped to the side so they both faced the candles, unobstructed. Not another word passed his lips as he stood by her, silently watching her take it in.

  At first Erianthe wasn’t sure what she was looking at. The white tea lights were laid in lines, arcs and angles. Then she stepped to the right and choked on her breath as the pattern came into focus.

  He’d built this for her to remember Ariadne.

  It was a cradle.

  Little rockers on the bottom of a wedge-shaped box.

  Not the most artistic rendition ever, but it was clear, and heartfelt, and heartbreaking.

  He took her hand and stayed out of her line of sight so she could gaze on the bright little lights burning and the promise that rose like vapor from a hundred or more tiny flames.

  “For Ariadne and the family we were always meant to have. I’m never going to be someone who doesn’t want to protect you. That’s not who I am. When I went to Dimitri back then, I thought I was protecting you and our child. What I can promise now is to try to not do this protecting in a way that belittles you or leaves you out.”

  He went down on both knees, not just one, and a small box came from somewhere. A diamond in dark velvet glittered in the glow of the candles, but she couldn’t really pay attention to any of that. She couldn’t look away from his eyes. Couldn’t do anything but nod.

  It was enough.

  He slid the sparkling ring onto her finger. The next second she hit the ground before him, unable to wait to have his arms around her and have him back in hers.

  Tear-salted kisses would last long after night had finished falling. They’d said all that needed to be said. The road home had taken them both through darkness and into the light and hope of a future full of love, family and finally understanding.

  Their loved ones had long ago drifted off to give them privacy, but Ares and Erianthe stole away to Shepherd’s Cottage for the rest of the week.

  Leaving Hera to organize a quick wedding—they’d waited ten years, and that was long enough.

  EPILOGUE

  Two years later...

  ERIANTHE REPOSITIONED THE patio umbrellas over the veranda tables to account for the sun’s movement, assuring the twins’ high chairs would be in the shade when dinner was served.

  “We are in so much trouble,” Ares said from behind her, his hands falling to her hips to pull her back against him so he could wrap his arms around her and nuzzle the side of her neck.

  She never got tired of this greeting. When she’d been nearing term with the girls, this back-to-front embrace was the closest they’d been able to get after her belly had become so round and heavy that even Ares’s long fingers hadn’t been able to span the curve.

  “Where are the girls?”

  “
With my parents.” His voice sounded equal parts rueful and amused.

  She turned in his arms to slip her own around his shoulders and give the man of her dreams her undivided, now fully shaded and temporarily secluded attention. “What’s the trouble, then?”

  “I caught them kissing.”

  “Olivia and Ophelia?”

  “Melisa and Orien.” He enunciated his parents’ names so dramatically he might have been teaching a phonics class to children while also holding a puppet.

  Erianthe couldn’t have contained her laughter if she’d been sucking lemons. “You’re kidding! What kind of kissing are we talking about?”

  “The Ares Needs Therapy kind of kissing.”

  “Do you think they’re getting back together?”

  “I have no idea what that would even look like.”

  Melisa and Orien Xenakis had divorced when Ares was four, and then—of course—had had their multi-partner-divorcing sprees for the next quarter of a century. Orien had only recently returned to the island to take up residence in Shepherd’s Cottage while waiting for the divorce from his second French wife to go through.

  “Lots of tongue?”

  “Stop that,” Ares grunted. “I would like to have sex again sometime in my life. Or, more specifically, today.”

  “Whose tongue did you see, specifically?”

  “Stop, woman!” He spun her around again so he could bite her shoulder and growl—usually another playful favorite...

  Only, her stomach was not having it today.

  “Ares...don’t... Don’t jostle me.”

  She gripped the edge of the table and took a couple deep breaths, waiting for the wave of nausea to pass.

  “Oh, my love... Sit. Sit down.” He guided her to the nearest chair and eased her in. “Want a drink?”

  “Nope...just...no talking.”

  “It’s a boy. You didn’t get sick with the girls.”

  “Wives’ tales.”

  She swallowed again and then leaned back as the upheaval in her middle began to subside—which was when she caught sight of Melisa and Orien carrying the twins up the stairs from Ariadne’s terrace.

  “They’re coming.”

  “We should call him Xerxes.”

  “We are not naming any baby Xerxes Xenakis. That’s just cruel.”

  “I think you mean cool.” He squatted down before her, holding her hand, teasing her even while his thumb stroked back and forth across the back of her hand.

  “I don’t want to say anything until it’s been a little longer. No announcing today. I don’t know how much the girls understand. If they got their hopes up for a little brother and something happened...”

  Most miscarriages happened in the first trimester, and even if she’d breezed through her pregnancy last time, she couldn’t bring herself to count on this one yet.

  “Hey, nothing’s going to happen. To Xerxes.” He winked at her, then leaned up and kissed her, his mouth lingering long enough to calm her mind and ease the worry that always sprang up when it came to her family. “But we will keep this our secret a little longer. We haven’t had any secrets in a while.”

  “I never told anyone about that sexy dance I talked you into.”

  The faux outrage of his squint made her smile.

  “You two must be exhausted all the time.” Melisa was laughing as she neared the table and tried to wrestle Olivia’s wriggling frame into her high chair. “They run really well for being only a year old.”

  “Fifteen months,” Erianthe corrected, then pulled herself up from the chair. “Every month is a milestone at this age. But they are worryingly mobile. It’s a good thing there are two of us to chase them. Are you sure you’re up to watching them this evening?”

  “I’m sure,” Melisa said, helping Orien get Ophelia—the even squirmier twin—into her own chair and locked in. “You two go ahead and get ready. Orien will help me with them while you’re at the party.”

  “We do have the nanny if you find you need a break. She lives in. Bethan?” Ares reminded her, even though his mother had met the nanny on at least a dozen occasions. Melisa had a knack for forgetting the name of staff.

  “Oh, that’s right. Well, I’m sure we’ll be fine, but she can help if needed. You two go.”

  He didn’t have to be told again—just rounded the table to dole out goodbye kisses to his squirmy princesses with Erianthe following in his wake.

  When they’d made it to their suite, he closed the door and took her hand again. “If you don’t feel up to this, you don’t have to go.”

  “It’s my birthing center’s dedication—of course I have to go.”

  He gave her a look. She knew what it meant: the Protective Ares program was booting up. It had taken them only a few months to work out a system of groans, looks and raised brows to determine when they’d reached a subject that needed talking about, and likely a compromise.

  “I feel all right now, but we’ll leave early if I start feeling worse. I promise to tell you.”

  She stepped into his arms again and leaned in. The nausea wasn’t the worst part—it was the creeping exhaustion. She just wanted to sleep. Maybe it was a boy...

  Over her back, she felt him doing something with his hands.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Texting Theo to make sure he’s coming.”

  “They’ve all got the necessary childcare covered. They’re all coming. Theo and Cailey, Deakin and Lea, Chris and Naomi...”

  “He needs to know you’re somewhat under the weather in case he has to step in and give a speech about uteruses.”

  She laughed at him softly and let him fuss, pulling away to lie down for a few minutes before she needed to get dressed.

  Xerxes...

  It really was a strong name for Ares’s first son.

  * * * * *

  Look out for the final instalment of the Hot Greek Docs quartet

  A Date with Dr. Moustakas

  by Amy Ruttan

  And if you missed where it all started, check out

  One Night with Dr. Nikolaides

  by Annie O’Neil

  Tempted by Dr. Patera

  by Tina Beckett

  All available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from A Date with Dr. Moustakas by Amy Ruttan.

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  A Date with Dr. Moustakas

  by Amy Ruttan

  PROLOGUE

  Nashville, Tennessee

  HE HATED HIMSELF for what he was about
to do.

  Don’t do it, then.

  Dr. Christos Moustakas stared down at the contract on his desk—the one he’d just signed for a job that would take him away from Nashville and away from Naomi.

  He was angry at himself for getting involved with her. When he’d first seen her—when they’d been placed on the same surgical resident rotation last year—he’d known that he shouldn’t even pursue her. Naomi was the type of woman who wanted far more than he could give.

  He never wanted to get married. He never wanted to settle down. He had told her that in the beginning, but now...despite his warnings...he knew that she wanted more from him and he just couldn’t give it to her.

  Why not?

  Chris cursed under his breath and walked away from the contract. He looked about his apartment, which was full of memories of him and Naomi together. She was in his blood...she was all he ever thought about.

  And he couldn’t have that.

  Work was more important.

  He had to end it now.

  There was a knock at the door and his heart skipped a beat. His jaw clenched and his stomach churned, because he knew that he was going to break her heart.

  But it was for the best.

  He didn’t want to marry her and lock her into an unhappy marriage—just like what had happened to his parents.

  He never wanted that.

  Naomi beamed at him when he opened the door, and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek as she came into his apartment.

  “There you are! What’s up? You’ve been a bit distant recently...” She trailed off as she saw the boxes in the apartment. “Oh.”

  Chris shut the door. “Yeah, sorry I haven’t been returning your calls, but something came up.”

  “I see that,” she said quietly, and then turned around. “Where are you going?”

  “New York City. I’ve been offered a fellowship with Dr. Heffernan in neurosurgery, and then I’ll take over his practice when he retires later next year. I’ll be the head of neurosurgery.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing. Congratulations... When do you leave?”