“You don’t have to,” she protested, but stood with him. “I don’t need to be coddled.”
“You call it coddling, I call it wanting to spend time with you while attempting to find something nearly as pretty. I’m a selfish man.”
She snorted and looped her arm through his. “Selfish would never describe you, but an afternoon out sounds too amazing to argue with.”
Chapter Seven
Jenn woke to stomping, the unwelcome footfalls pulling her out of dreams before she was ready. The day before Dorian had driven her around the Athens outskirts. They’d been tourists in his hometown, and she’d let go of a lot of the shadows. Her conflicted dreams confirmed she had far to go, but she’d loved the taste of carefree freedom and wanted more.
She pried open her eyes to find Athena throwing open the windows and scowling out at the sea. Jenn pushed up in bed, ready to ask what had her so upset when the housekeeper spun on her heels, eyes ablaze.
“The hag is here,” Athena said, accent so thick Jenn barely understood. “She come while Dorian is eating and looking over the sea with the happiness he used to have. She come with complaints to make the boy unhappy.”
Jenn sat up and ran her hand through her hair. “His mother?”
“Yes, his horrible mother,” Athena spat. “Makes me so angry, I barely remember my words.”
“Will she be staying long?”
“She says until noon when she has a meeting with her lawyer. Bah.”
Jenn had never met Dorian’s mother. She’d remained in the background, a loving grandmother, but a strong arm in the family.
“Would it help or hurt if I were to join them?”
Athena turned with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “You are the girl for my boy. Up with you. Do your hair and face. I will get your dress.”
Jenn regretted volunteering already, but hurried through her toilette, adding light makeup and hairspray. When she stepped out of the bathroom, Athena was laying something on the bed.
Jenn joined her and frowned at the unfamiliar garments. “Whose are these?” The bright reds and sunny yellows stood out against her white spread. “All my favorite colors.”
“Yours. Dorian, he buys them when he sees something his Jenn would like. I think the white and yellow.” Athena held up the outfit and clicked her tongue. “Such a surprised expression. The man loved you since your first trip here, and you do not know. I tell him, tell your Jenn, but does he listen?”
“For that long?” She couldn’t believe it. She’d cherished his friendship, but hadn’t considered the future until this trip.
“Of course. You sparkle like Madelyn did. Differently, of course, but that spark, it is what he likes. It makes life better.” She grinned. “He drinks too much ouzo the week you leave, so I hear all. He loves you, has for years, but wanted you to explore. A good man, but crazy. The yellow and white?”
“Yeah, sure.” She returned to the bathroom to dress, overwhelmed.
He’s loved me that long? The long walks and late night discussions they’d shared over the years came flying back to memory. Affairs didn’t need those long looks and soft words, but she’d ignored the possibility of a future because more seemed out of reach. She was American, he an older, distinguished Greek gentleman. They had fun. She’d kept part of her emotions away, but this time she wanted more.
She peered in the mirror, pleased with the dress choice. It was sweet, innocent even, except for the décolleté that gave a tasteful glimpse of cleavage. The sweet bow on the belt added a splash of whimsy.
She added a layer of lip-gloss, more confident in herself and her heart. She might have problems, but Dorian wasn’t one of them. Bless him, he’d taken her coldness and tried to help. She could return the favor.
Athena clapped her hands from the doorway. “You are lovely. Lovely, lovely. The boy didn’t know your shoe size.”
She straightened the hem of the dress and stared at her toes. “It cracks me up when you call him a boy. What if I go barefoot?”
“Please do. Yes. I will show you down for breakfast. You will like the pastries. I found one with sweet cheese. They are decadent. You will sit by Dorian and make him smile.”
As they approached, Jenn dragged her feet. The Greek flew by too rapidly for her to grab more than a few words, but none were the endearments Dorian often called her.
Athena murmured. “You will be happy and tame her tongue.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
“Of course. All my ideas are great.” She stopped in front of the breakfast room door. “Mister Dorian, your guest has arrived.”
Jenn plastered on her biggest smile when she stepped in. The warmth of Dorian’s expression when his eyes lit on her confirmed Athena’s words. He loved her.
“Hi.” She approached but looked to Dorian. “I am sorry to interrupt. Would it be better if I took breakfast in my room?”
He held out a chair to his right. “Of course not. Come, have breakfast. Mother, this is Jenn Kallas from the American basketball program. She is here to help with camp. Darling, this is my mother, Berenike Logos.”
Jenn took the seat and patted Dorian’s hand. Athena hurried, adding another place setting without looking at her boss. Jenn could only imagine what their next conversation would entail. She focused on Dorian’s mother instead. The stick-slim, dark-haired woman looked like she’d been sucking lemons instead of enjoying the delicious breakfast.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Logos,” Jenn said, accepting a brimming plate from Athena.
Berenike scowled toward the housekeeper, but she finished pouring coffee before stepping away. There was some serious undercurrent Jenn didn’t understand, and she again wished she’d left her help unoffered.
“You are American?” Berenike asked like “American” it tasted bad.
“Yes. I’m originally from Iowa, but I work in Ohio now.”
Berenike made the vague bah sound Athena was so adept at, and Dorian snapped out something in Greek. Jenn winced at the tone, but his mother waved off the words as if they were buzzing bees.
“American basketball player.” Berenike’s words dripped with contempt. “You support yourself with this, or you come to my son for his money?”
I should have stayed in bed.
Dorian took her hand. “Your new dress is lovely. It makes me very happy to see you in it. You slept well?”
“I did.” She focused on him instead of the angry old woman. “You?”
“Very well. I would have liked a stroll on the beach, but business caught me. It is fortuitous because now I can share breakfast with you. Have some fruit.”
She might want to crawl under the table, but he beamed at her, so she stayed and pushed the melon balls around her plate.
Dreadful silence dragged on, but every few minutes Dorian met her gaze and killed the dreadful with a wink that made her want to giggle. His mother grumbled but ate without more attacks.
“You will work now, not entertain this girl,” Berenike said after Athena cleared their plates.
“Mama, you worry. Go home and look at the papers I gave you.”
She scowled. “They are travel brochures to get rid of me, so you can laze around with this—”
Athena stepped up beside them and let loose a blast of fierce Greek. Dorian hid his mouth with his hand, but his eyes twinkled. Watching Athena and Berenike go at each other like crazy old dogs, all bark with no bite, she saw the humor.
He leaned close. “You really are lovely this morning. Athena put you up to this?”
“I offered on the condition it wouldn’t cause problems,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to cause any…well, trouble.”
“And you haven’t. You’ve put the silver lining on this morning.”
“I see I am not wanted here.” Berenike pushed to her feet. “You should fire that hag. I’ve been telling you for years. Find someone of better temperament.”
Dorian stood and kissed his mother’s cheek. “
Read the brochures. You deserve a vacation. I will be getting you one for your birthday next month.”
“Waste,” she snapped, but with a little sparkle in her eye, like maybe Berenike kicked a fuss because she enjoyed it. “Work now. Your progeny deserve your time, not this girl.”
“Ah, progeny.” Athena paused in clearing the table to hold her chest. “It makes my heart sing to think of little feet pattering around. Little ones with Greek names. No Toby or Tucker, strong boys and girls with classical names.”
Dorian swept his mother out of the room before she could do more than wave her fist.
Athena whistled a happy tune.
“You are such a troublemaker.” Jenn shook her head then stacked her plate on Dorian’s.
“I am a…happy maker,” Athena countered. “Yes, happy maker. I should have cards made that say Athena Gospekos—Happy Maker. You and Dorian, smart people, both needed a push. I push and voila happy.”
“A happy maker or a shit starter?” Dorian asked from the doorway. “Woman, you meddle in things, and I don’t know if I should thank you or fire you like my mother says.”
Athena patted his cheek as she sauntered past. “You thank me, of course. I will return to clean up. Go enjoy the beach. The sun is shining.”
Jenn fell a little more in love with him. He adored the old girl who watched out for them in her crazy, troublemaking way. “What do you say? Got a few minutes to run away?”
He held out his hand. Though her knee felt sore enough to let her know she wouldn’t be going too far, she wanted the morning with him. He led her down a path she could see from her window. It led to treacherous outdoor stairs, but allowed views of the Mediterranean the entire way down. When her feet hit the sand, her knee demanded a break.
“Ah,” he said. “A bench. How fortuitous. It is like the owner knew he would meander down here with someone who might need a rest.”
She settled on the stone bench. “How thoughtful.” The sea crashed against the shore, louder than the gentle lull she heard from the window.
“On occasion, the current stills enough to go for a swim.”
“The rocks are amazing,” she said, swiveling her head to take in the seascape. “We never made it down here before. I guess we were too busy.”
He settled his arm around her shoulders. She tensed—he took it back.
“Sometimes it’s easy to forget things aren’t as they were,” he said with a sigh. “Are things…getting better, maybe?”
“Maybe.” She leaned into his side, enjoying his warmth, even when part of her wanted to pull away. “But I think they will with time.”
His jaw tightened, but he nodded. She wished she could switch off the survivor’s guilt so she could just love this man.
“Of course it will.” He tipped her chin up and held her gaze. “Take the time here in the most beautiful place on earth. You like the doctor?”
“He’s a little pompous and frank,” she said, breathing in Dorian’s woodsy scent. “But I think he’s going to be a big help. I need someone to kick my butt a little.”
“Then we’ll have him do that, but when you’re done, I will soothe you,” he promised.
His sweet words hit her funny bone. She kissed his cheek. “So, he can kick my butt, and you’ll kiss it?”
He smirked, his upturned lips irresistible. She pressed hers to his, enjoying the freedom of the moment. When she pulled away, she still felt good. She didn’t want to reach the edge where defensiveness grew because she only wanted positive feelings with him. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I will kiss anywhere the therapist leaves raw. I may not be the greatest with patience, but I will do my best.”
“Are you kidding? You’re the most patient man I know. The most wonderful man, special.”
Amusement faded as her heart aligned with her words. Maybe losing everything and rebuilding from scratch put things into perspective. Every year she counted the days until her return to Greece. She should have realized sooner how much he meant to her.
“You really are special to me, Dorian. I’m very grateful for you.”
His smile softened. “Yes, and I for you. If your knee is up for it, let’s walk before we get to our paperwork. I want to be done by the time Natalie arrives. The girls will be coming for the workshop as well and I don’t wish to worry about work during their visit.”
She couldn’t wait to see them. She stood and offered her hand. Little things mattered. He took it with the same grin she’d seen a hundred times. Little things mattered to him, too.
Chapter Eight
Jenn settled onto the bench she and Dorian had shared the day before, the waves and wind a welcome distraction, but even with their power, her mind wandered.
If she dies, it’s not your fault. It’s not your business. It’s not your life.
Dr. Arogos’ harsh words echoed long after their appointment. She’d gone in expecting to discuss more coping mechanisms for the guilt. He’d offered quite a few good ideas she intended to use, but in their last few minutes, he’d given her the bitter taste of reality. His words were true, but they hurt.
“What happens to you if this other Jennifer dies?”
She swallowed, surprised at the abrupt change in topic. “Nothing, I guess.”
“Precisely. You don’t know her, aren’t family—you will be fine. Is that what bothers you most?”
She didn’t find his words so insightful anymore. “I don’t see how this is helpful.”
“Am I to understand this other patient has support? Can’t we assume she has family to help her?”
“Yes. I met her once. It was a fluke—she was checking in for an appointment at the same time I was picking up some papers, so I heard her name and introduced myself. We talked in the waiting room for quite a while. Her husband has a big family who is helping, and they also have a daughter.” She wiped her hands against her dress at the memory of red-rimmed eyes and sassy sarcasm.
“She has this group, one you would not have had if you had gone through treatment.”
Where was he going with this? “Right. But I would have been fine.”
“You are projecting your fear on her. She has family and treatment. She will be fine. Why are you predicting doom for her? You wish her to die?”
She gasped. “Of course not.”
“Then why this, this…sadness you feel for her? She is better off than you were and will have help. Why take that away and wish her ill?”
“I do not.”
“Repeat after me if you would. If she lives it’s not my fault. If she dies it’s not my fault. It is not my business. It is not my life.”
Jenn kicked a clump of sand. Had she projected the fears she’d held on the other Jenn? Maybe that explained the guilt. She ignored the positive things and assumed she would have to handle the same level of crap.
Maybe a few friends would have come out of the woodwork, but she couldn’t be sure. She might have had no support at all. The other Jenn mentioned being married to her high school sweetheart and in-laws clamoring to babysit.
A sailboat bobbed across the rough water, on its own against the waves. How long had she let herself be that boat?
She’d messed up, getting isolated. When her mother got sick, she’d set aside her work and friendships. After the funeral, Jenn hadn’t put the effort into reestablishing relationships, and the women she’d known well had gone on with their lives with new jobs and family matters keeping them busy.
Dorian stood out. Out of her circle, he’d tried hardest to connect in the past year. She pinched the bridge of her nose to fight a growing headache. Maybe she was closer to the root of the problem. Allowing the aversion to grow had supported her isolation.
Poor Jenn, can’t stand to be touched. Good thing she has no one left who wants to.
She gasped at her inner cruelty. Who was this ugly voice? It wasn’t the girl her parents raised. She loved herself more than that voice claimed.
She sto
od and headed toward the stairs. Doubt and pity had occupied her brain long enough. Jennifer in the States would stay in her prayers, but Jenn in Greece would be happy.
***
Dorian scowled at the phone. Natalie intended to arrive early because of a plumbing problem in Turkey. He didn’t care for change, never had. More importantly, he wanted more time alone with Jenn.
He’d expressed disappointment and a few words about the inconvenience, but in the end relented. Jenn needed to be ready for her boss within three days. He might wish things were different, but he would make it work. Of course, he’d have to find a reason for her to stay after the troupe left. They hadn’t discussed the future at great length, but perhaps they would make their situation…permanent.
Matrimony had flitted across his mind around her third trip to Athens and become more present lately with Athena’s less than subtle hints. The possibility of adding to his family so late in life reminded him he had a lot of life left. He’d have a grandchild soon…watching the little one grow up with a child of his and Jenn’s appealed to him.
Rapid footfalls from the hall distracted him from an image of her pregnant with his child. He grinned as the woman so on his mind stepped in, wearing another one of the sundresses he’d picked. The tiny blue stars on the white fabric reminded him of her irises. It hugged her curves and brought out the sparkle in her eyes.
“Dorian, good. I hoped you’d be here. Are you busy?”
He began to stand, but she waved him down. “I am at your disposal.”
She stopped to close the door before easing onto his lap. Taken by surprise, he shifted until he found a comfortable spot. He thought the moment playful, but she wore a serious expression on her beautiful face.
Jenn blew out a breath and set her hands on his shoulders.
“Now what?” he asked, careful to keep his grasp on his chair and avoid giving her a reason to feel trapped. “I love having you but have no real desire to be slapped today.”
She finally relaxed, but tension lines wrinkled her forehead. “No slapping, I promise. I need to get past this ridiculous phobia.”
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