by Olivia Gates
“You’re informing me, only so graciously ahead of time.”
There was this confusion in his eyes again, as if he had no idea why she was so agitated. And why would he?
“May I come over tomorrow, Naomi?”
So we can start this maddening merry-go-round again?
Out loud she only managed a terse, “No.”
Then she pulled the door from his hand. He stood there as she turned the car on and drove away slowly.
She arrived at home an hour later, put Dora in bed and did all her nightly rituals. Then she slipped between the covers...and finally let the tears fall.
Nine
Naomi woke up to find her pillow soaked.
The first thing she did was punch it.
As she should have Andreas. Long ago.
And when the opportunity presented itself, what had she done? A few chest thumps and a couple slaps. The huge lout must still be laughing his head off.
Jumping from bed, determined to leave him and any thoughts of him behind, she rushed about her morning routine before Dora woke up. Though judging from the sounds of deep breathing over the baby intercom, she was too soundly asleep to wake up soon. Playing nonstop with so many kids yesterday had wiped her out.
Naomi had just finished making coffee when the bell rang. Thinking it must be the super, she rushed to the door.
She took a look through the peephole...and lurched back.
Andreas.
She took another look. Because it wasn’t only Andreas.
Another Peek confirmed the absurdity of the first one.
It was him. And flowers.
Andreas? Bringing her flowers?
And not just any flowers. A bouquet half her size, with every type of gold blossom, with the stems and leaves tinted turquoise.
Her head spun. Was he exhibiting his father’s condition? He’d return, then leave, then return and so on, in an endless loop, until he wrecked her?
She didn’t think so. She might have been a victim of her craving for him so far, but no longer.
She spoke loudly enough for him to hear her through the thick door. “Go away, Andreas.”
His answer was immediate. “No, I won’t.”
“Then you’ll stand there until you have to leave.”
“I’ll stand here until you have to leave.”
“I’m not leaving for the whole weekend.”
“Then that is how long I’ll stand here.”
And the worst thing? She believed he would.
“I still won’t talk to you when you finally ambush me.”
“You’re talking to me now. Might as well make it about something constructive.”
“Here’s something constructive. I’m allergic to flowers.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m allergic to you.”
He gave a long-suffering exhalation. “Apparently I do elicit inexplicable reactions in you.”
“Oh, those reactions are very explicable.”
“Not to me. Enlighten me.”
“Listen, this is just silly.”
“First thing we agree on today.”
It was her turn to sigh. “Did Aristedes put you up to this? Or was it Selene or Caliope who advised the flowers? It was probably a committee decision, especially with this over-the-top bouquet that mirrors my coloring.”
“I can understand your skepticism. But no, the flowers and their color connotations are my own initiative. I bet the others wouldn’t have suggested something you found so aggravating. But as ridiculous as it sounds now, I thought flowers would provide an opening in the impasse we inexplicably reached last night, or a peace offering in this one-sided war you’ve resumed for no discernible reason.”
“You’re that lost in your own world? You see no reason?”
“None.”
“How about that I’m not at your disposal to disappear and then return, pretending nothing happened?”
“I didn’t disappear.”
“What do you call what you did for the three days after you met Aristedes?”
“After you had Aristedes issue me a cease and desist, you mean. And I call it ‘giving you time to calm down.’”
“Calm down? When I was going out of my mind needing to know what the meeting achieved, what you decided?”
“I thought you wouldn’t want to hear from me directly, and that Aristedes would tell you how things went.”
“How could he? He didn’t know what you’d decided, either, which left me even more agitated until I heard from you. Then you came, spent the whole evening with us and didn’t say a word. After which you disappeared again for a week. And the next time I saw you it was by accident. And you still said nothing!”
“It wasn’t by accident.”
That stopped her ready volley. Then she huffed a harsh laugh. “And to think I believed you weren’t toying with me.”
“Why would you think I was? When did I ever ‘toy’ with you?”
“That’s the euphemism I came up with for the manipulation you’ve been exposing me to since you came back.”
“How was it manipulation, when I said I would claim Dorothea, not take her from you?”
He had said “claim” not “take.” But the rest...
Suddenly everything inside her was like one of Hannah’s knitting balls after Loki and Thor had had their way with it.
“As for the second instance of disappearance you claim, it took me that long to put together that family event.”
She snatched the door open. “What?”
Everything seemed to spin around her as the sight of him impacted her senses. He stood there, legs braced apart, as if preparing for a grueling fight, the gigantic bouquet gripped in one hand beside a long, powerful thigh. He looked a few light-years beyond fantastic. Though on closer inspection he had a haggard look about him. And was that the same suit he’d had on last night?
“Can I come in now?”
“Did you just say this so you can come in?”
“I have plenty of vices, Naomi. Lying isn’t one of them.”
He was right. And since he never lied, in light of all he’d said, had she jumped to conclusions about everything?
Oh, she didn’t know anything anymore.
Exasperated, with herself more than anything, she stepped aside with an ill-tempered huff.
His raised eyebrow as he brushed past her made her bristle more. “No comments about my lack of graciousness?”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I now know how sharp your claws are, and I need my eyes where they are.”
He headed to the family room, put down the bouquet, then turned to her with an expression that looked like disappointment, then morphed at once into anxiety. “Why isn’t Dorothea up yet?”
Wondering if she’d read him right, Naomi said, “She’s just sleeping off yesterday’s unusual exertion.”
He seemed unconvinced. “Hannah said she wakes up no later than six. It’s nine. And she spent a lot of time in the sun and the pool. Maybe too much. Maybe she’s not well.”
“How do you know that?”
“I was with her most of that time.”
So that was where he’d kept disappearing yesterday.
Then anxiety burst inside her as his words sank in. She’d left Dora to Hannah’s care, never doubting that she’d know what was enough. But... Had Dora’s breathing been too deep? Could she be suffering from sunstroke? She could be burning up....
Naomi bolted to her room, feeling Andreas hot on her heels. Braking at the door, she opened it with all the control she had left, turning to Andreas to signal quiet. He nodded, followed her soundlessly to Dora’s crib.
Naomi’s heart hammer
ed as she bent to press her cheek to her forehead...and all tension deflated. It was cooler than her own hectic flesh.
Before she could turn to Andreas, he bent, spooning her. Her breath caught even as she realized he was just unable to wait to find out if Dora was okay, was reaching out to check her temperature, too.
As soon as his large palm cupped the baby’s cheek, she gurgled something contented and caught his hand and swept it with her as she turned noisily to her side.
They ended up standing there, with him bent over her, both trapped with his hand held beneath Dora’s cheek.
“Will she wake up if I withdraw my hand?” His whisper tickled Naomi’s ear, poured right into her brain.
Turning her head, she found her lips in his neck, and somehow managed to whisper back, “She’s bound to wake up soon, anyway.”
“I’d rather it’s not me who woke her up.”
“It’s actually better if you do. Oversleeping will throw her whole pattern out of whack.”
“In that case, go ahead and wake her.”
“Withdraw your hand first and let’s see if that does it.”
He tried, but Dora only whimpered and clung to it.
“So much for that. Let’s go for a more direct approach,” Naomi murmured. His other hand came around her, stopping hers as she reached for Dora, enveloping her whole body in his.
Everything inside her fell apart as she turned to him and found him gazing at Dora, his face gripped in some fierce...emotion?
“She looks so content sleeping.”
His whisper was the deepest Naomi had ever heard, almost reverent. There was no doubt anymore what this was about.
He didn’t have the heart to wake Dora up.
Andreas now had a heart?
From all signs so far with the baby, it seemed he was sprouting one where there’d been none before.
Shaken by the idea, Naomi let her voice get louder, since she’d decided Dora should wake up. “You won’t remember those moments when she’s cranky and whining later because she’s tired and can’t fall asleep...because you let her oversleep.”
He grimaced, gave an apology in Greek then withdrew his hand from Dora’s grip, firmly but still gently. There was gentleness this time, not only the clinical care he’d demonstrated before.
Dora protested and turned on her back, her eyes fluttering open. Naomi heard Andreas catch his breath.
Shutting out the disturbing observations, she stroked Dora’s head. “Enough charging, darling. It’s time to wake up.”
As always, Dora woke up with no disorientation. Her eyes crinkled in pleasure at seeing Naomi, before bypassing her and rounding with surprise at finding Andreas there.
Naomi felt man and baby lock gazes, and held her breath. Then Dora squealed in excitement, rolled to her side and climbed up the rails of her crib. Once propped up, she bobbed up and down, eyes luminous with glee, her grin showing every tooth she’d sprouted.
Andreas reached out a tentative hand to stroke Dora’s cheek. “Does she always wake up excited like this?”
Naomi’s throat tightened. “She is sunny most of the time, and wakes up in a great mood. But this is extra.”
“She must be too used to you to make such a fuss every morning. I must be a novelty.”
Acute honesty forced Naomi to correct his assumption. “She never greets new people with this fanfare.”
His eyes widened. “Really?”
“Really. We got her a wonderful stand-in nanny, and she vetoed her. Our neighbors, a really nice couple, had dinner with us a few weeks ago and she ignored them completely.”
Andreas looked so pleased, Naomi almost had to rub her eyes. But there was no doubt about it. He was thrilled Dora was treating him preferentially.
What the hell. Let him have more proof of his supreme influence on any being that breathed.
Naomi sighed. “Are you waiting for her to ask to be picked up in the exact way you trained her to?”
Andreas blinked. “That was when she was being bratty. Now she’s being...”
“Delightful?” Naomi suggested when he couldn’t find the right word, and he nodded. “So what are you waiting for? All these squats mean she can’t wait for you to pick her up.”
He reached down for Dora, his large palms spanning her rib cage as she kicked and gurgled in delight. “Sygnómi, Dorothea. Climbing my leg was much more understandable.”
Hearing him apologizing so earnestly to Dora had a weird effect on Naomi. She burst out laughing.
Both man and baby turned to her in astonishment.
“Don’t mind me. Carry on,” she spluttered as she headed to the changing table. Andreas followed her when she beckoned, relinquishing Dora to her with utmost reluctance. He stood watching intently, showing no signs of distaste, as she changed the baby.
Then she stood aside and let him pick her up again. When he apologized for not being the one to change her, as he had to learn first, Naomi laughed again and headed out to the kitchen.
Andreas followed, Dora in his arms, cats around his legs, that famous eyebrow raised.
Naomi didn’t press the issue of his reason for being here as she got things out for breakfast, while he put Dora in her high chair as if this was his morning routine, and Dora asked adorably for her toys.
He joined Naomi in preparing breakfast, admitting that he’d had none. As they worked in tandem, there was again a pervasive ease and companionship. This time she was certain it wasn’t something he did on purpose. It was simply...there.
As if by agreement, they didn’t bring up anything during breakfast.
Afterward, once in the family room, after she’d distributed his bouquet into four vases, with Dora and the cats busy together, he explained that tidbit that had made her open the door.
“After I left that evening, I knew I needed to get my family together to meet you and Dora. I had to get a place first.”
“What? You mean that house in Manhattan Beach wasn’t Aristedes’s and Selene’s?”
“No. Their home is a couple miles away, though.”
That stunned her. Though...thinking back, she recalled they’d invited her to a “family gathering,” not to “our place,” and no one had implied the home was theirs. Had they all been in it together, leaving it vague, so she wouldn’t realize? But why?
“It took a week to finalize the deal, get the place ready to receive people and to gather everyone.”
He’d gone to all this expense and effort to put that day together? Which would have been wonderful for her, had she known all that, but...
“You went to these lengths, just to end up ignoring me?”
His eyes widened. “Where do you keep getting those interpretations for my actions? I was giving you a chance to get to know the zillion members of my family. I thought we could talk some other time. Not that you seemed to want to see me at all. Though I now realize why.”
So she’d gotten that wrong, too.
“You could have told me any of that,” she mumbled.
“You mean alert you to my plans beforehand, so you’d surprise me by not attending? Didn’t even occur to me.”
“You could have called.”
He shook his head. “To say what? I was still taking the steps to try to reach the decision you wanted to hear.”
It was her turn to shake her head. He had no clue, did he? But he had gone to all this trouble for Dora. It proved he’d had powerful feelings for Petros, even if Naomi hadn’t understood the connection or seen its evidence. Now, from the times he’d seen Dora, that first reconnaissance evening, his vigilant day yesterday, and this morning, it was clear he’d already developed an attachment to her, and she to him.
So had his emotions been dormant, and it had taken what he’d viciously said he’
d never have—a child—to awaken them?
This made sense. Perfect sense. It also explained why he hadn’t tried to touch Naomi in over ten days.
This was no longer about her in any way.
“I never told you about me and Petros.”
His solemn tone brought her focus back to him. “You never told me anything, Andreas.”
He nodded. Acknowledging, making no excuses.
But from the way his steely eyes smoldered, it seemed he’d tell her something now. Something seriously important.
“Before I do, you have to know about my family. My father was a useless, selfish son of a bitch we scarcely saw, and my mother was a silly, sentimental pushover he used up, with us scrambling in the middle. Aristedes, being the oldest, was the one who bore the main brunt of it all, dropping out of school to work four jobs to support us when he was only thirteen.”
Wanting to spare him retelling this part, Naomi interrupted. “Caliope told me all that yesterday.”
He exhaled. “But what she couldn’t tell you, since neither she nor anyone else knows it, is that by the time I was that age, as the ‘man of the house’ in my elders’ absence, I had to fend for my family of women and babies in different ways. There was this gang who ‘ruled’ the area, and the only way any household could be safe from them was if they ‘volunteered’ a son to their service. I volunteered myself, for my family and Petros’s.”
Naomi sat forward, her heart racing. She’d never expected anything like that. Which was naive, to think such poverty hadn’t exposed him to crime and criminals.
But his had been more than simple exposure. “You volunteered yourself in Petros’s place?”
“There was no choice, really. He’d always been the gentle soul you knew. He wouldn’t have survived a day as a gang member, while I was already almost six feet tall, and I oozed aggression and fearlessness. The gang leader took a shine to me, trained me himself, then put me to work.”
The way he’d said that. Work. She saw a world of pain and ugliness and fear in it, of danger and damage and degradation.
She couldn’t ask for specifics. Whatever he’d done, he’d been a minor and he’d been coerced, with his family and Petros’s held as hostages.
