CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HESATIN the grotto at the back of his house. He looked at the soft glow of the salt lamp in the corner. And then he stood up and turned it on its side. The salt shattered into millions of pieces.
He did the same with the other and watched it go to pieces. A spray of rose-colored failure all around the floor.
Where was the healing? He hadn’t seen it yet. He hadn’t even come close.
Nothing in him was healed. Everything was broken. Fractured and ruined.
She loved him. She claimed that she loved him.
But no one had ever... No one had ever stayed with him. No professions of love had ever been enough. Why would this one?
She had chosen his brother over him. But that wasn’t what he was truly afraid of. He had been a bastard, and he knew that.
He had been unnecessarily cruel to her. But he had done it to protect himself.
Because...
Because he had taken his father’s fists for Theseus. He had stood in between the two of them. He had been a target so that Theseus could remain unscathed. And it hadn’t been enough.
Theseus had stolen Ariadne from him.
He hadn’t even loved her. Not like Dionysus had. But there was something about him that made what he wanted unimportant. He had thought that he and Ariadne had connected, but she had chosen Theseus.
Nothing that he did, no part of him, had ever been sufficient. She said that he loved her as she was, but when had she done the same for him?
She said that she was afraid.
Yes, she had. She had said that. But she had... She had utterly destroyed him. When what he had endured losing her had been unthinkable. He...
And you’re losing her again. To what end?
If he didn’t lose her now, he would eventually. He would lose her over and over again. Because that was how it was with everyone.
He had never seen love in his life that had lasted. He had never seen love in a way that endured. There was not a single connection, not blood or water that seemed to stand up in his life.
What was he supposed to think. He had no example of love lasting. He had no example of him being worthy.
Ariadne had just taken a risk. She had laid everything down for him.
And still...
Still.
He had his island. He had his cave.
That would be enough.
All of this has been a replacement of her. And you know it.
All of it. He had built this house, he had built this cave, where he used to go to hide from his father’s violent moods.
He had structured this entire place around finding some sanity without her. Finding something that held him to the earth.
And now he was left with only this place, and it felt utterly insufficient. It was nothing, and so was he.
Without her.
She took a risk. Why can’t you?
It wasn’t enough.
No. So far, it hadn’t been enough. But neither had this place. Neither had his salt lamps. He laughed, bitterly. Because everything had been a bandage, on a mortal wound. Everything had been a pointless, useless exercise, trying to piece together a life that felt like something without Ariadne in it, and now he could have her, and he wasn’t claiming her.
Now he was being a coward.
She had said that she wanted to re-create that kiss. Re-create the moment where she had chosen to walk away, and stay instead.
But the truth of it was, he hadn’t gone after her then. He had never said everything that was in his heart.
He had been a coward.
At the first sign that she might not feel the same, he had fallen back.
Rather than ripping himself open.
She had done it over again. He had to do the same.
He stood there, frozen, in the middle of his ruined grotto.
Because the grotto had only ever been a mirror of his soul. Hollow and lonely. And now broken.
He would have her.
He would.
He would go after her, and he would tell her how he felt. Because of course he loved her.
Thinking that fixed something inside of him. Something he hadn’t fully realized was broken. Oh, he knew that much was broken inside of him. But he hadn’t realized that what he truly needed was her love. And to love her in return.
But she was right. He already did.
Railing against it was futile.
He loved her.
And if he didn’t claim her, then he would be the author of his own misery. He would finally have to blame himself, like he should have done years ago.
Because she might have walked away, but he had let her go.
And he wouldn’t make that mistake again.
He loved Ariadne.
And she would be his wife.
She would be his love.
Because she was everything. And he was finally willing to admit it.
When her period failed to come, she wasn’t shocked, so much as resigned.
She was pregnant. With Dionysus’s baby. And she could carry on the way that she had intended to. She could carry on the way that they had started.
But she wasn’t going to do that.
She had lost Dionysus, so nothing else really mattered. She was going to have to be billed.
All she had was herself, and she was... She was embracing it. The terror of it. The beauty.
She had no other choice. This was what living bravely felt like. This was what being true to herself felt like. It was hard.
But this was what she needed to do. This was the only way she was ever going to become the kind of mother that her child deserved. The best mother that she could be.
She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t afraid anymore that she wouldn’t know how.
Because she knew that she could grow. And change. She knew she could be braver and better.
She was proud, and she was happy in some ways for the girl that she had been.
Even if she was wretchedly sad for the woman she was now in other ways.
But she had a meeting scheduled with Patrocles. And she was ready.
He still kept an office in the main building of Katrakis Shipping. And she was ushered in immediately. Where he sat behind the desk. He was small now. Shrunken with age. And it amazed her just how much trouble this one, small, shriveled man had caused. Once, he had been feared. And now... He had lost his oldest son. A son he had never truly known, because he was such a horrible man. And she could throw that back in his face now. But he would never understand. He would never see it. Because he would never grow. That he would never change.
He would never do the work he needed to do to become a decent human being.
“Ariadne. You have been off the radar for some time.”
“I’ve been dealing with some things. I have to tell you. I had a miscarriage.”
He looked up at her, his eyes sharp. “That is a shame.”
“Yes. But I am pregnant again.”
“Good. I had thought that Theseus might have left behind insurance.”
She shook her head. “No. It isn’t Theseus’s child. It’s Dionysus’s.”
Because she would never deny who the father of this baby was, no matter what happened between them. She was going to tell him next. It didn’t matter that they couldn’t be together, she would give him a chance to be a father. She knew that he would be a wonderful father.
“Dionysus,”said Patrocles. “That changes things.”
“I thought it might. And it’s all right if it does. If you take everything from me, I don’t care. I’m not playing your games anymore. Theseus and I lived our lives trying to please you. It was so important to him. I’m not going to do that anymore. I don’t care about you. I care about this company. And I care about the people in it. I think you should let me continue to run it because I do a great job. I could’ve lied to you. And I could’ve told you that this was Theseus’s baby. You would never have known. Science wouldn’t have been able to prove otherwise. But that would just be giving you more power than you deserve. You don’t deserve any.”
“Then you will not keep this company.”
“I thought you might say that. But know this, I have a plan to expand things over the next few years, and if you keep things going the way that you were running them before Theseus took over, the company is going to die. You are welcome to cut me off as a sop to your pride. You lose your legacy. You’ll lose everything. So it’s up to you. Be spiteful, and cold, as we all know you are. Cut off your own legacy to spite your face. Or let me have it. Let me continue on in the work Theseus was going to do. The work that I planned to do. After all, we will still be connected by a child. Whether either of us want that to be true or not.”
She turned and walked out of the office, but stopped. “I hope you know, that your sons are two of the finest men ever to be born into the world. I love Theseus. But all he really cared about was being good enough, and he never thought he was. He was. He was good enough just like he was. And so is Dionysus. He has always been my friend. He has always been... You don’t give him any credit. But he built a life for himself completely apart from you. And that must be why you dislike him so much. He set out to prove that he didn’t need you. And he did it. Spectacularly. As much as I love Theseus, in the end, it’s Dionysus that I want to be. Because he proves just how useless you are.”
And then she did walk out, her breath leaving her body in a painful gust.
She had done it. She had potentially cut everything off. And it was a gamble. One that terrified her. Because maybe it wouldn’t pay off. Maybe she had just condemned all the workers in that company.
She would start again. She would hire all of them. That was exactly what she would do. She didn’t need to lean on anybody.
She would make her own legacy.
Her own Katrakis legacy.
In honor of everything Theseus could have been.
In honor of everything Dionysus was.
Because her child would know about both of them.
When her child learned about the heritage of being a Katrakis, she would make sure that it meant something good.
And she would be a part of that.
She swept out of the building, and walked back toward her townhouse.
She didn’t know how she was going to hold herself together. She was shaking. She wanted to call Dionysus. Well. She had to. She had to tell him about the baby.
She walked into the lobby of her building. And she saw him. His back turned away from her.
It was just like that night, on the balcony.
When she was eighteen.
Except their positions were reversed.
And she found herself striding toward him, all of her need, all of her passion, rising up inside of her. “Dionysus.”
He turned, and she grabbed him, kissing him, for all the world to see. And she knew that they still had so many things left to be said between them.
She knew that she shouldn’t be doing this, that she had taken a firm stance on love, or nothing. But she needed to touch him. This was honest.
And she had vowed not to turn away from these kinds of moments.
So she didn’t.
“Ariadne,” he said, his voice hoarse.
“You’re here.”
“Of course I am. I had to come for you. I had to. Ariadne, I love you.”
Her heart hit her breastbone hard. “You love me?”
“Yes. I was a fool, and I was a coward. I was so... I didn’t know what love was, Ariadne. I had no idea what it looks like. I knew that what I felt for you was real, but I didn’t know what it could be.
“I was afraid. I was afraid of what it would look like to lose you. But then I did. And... I have never felt like I was enough for anyone.”
“Please,” she said, holding his hands. “I need you to understand. It wasn’t that you weren’t enough. You were too much. You were so much that I was overwhelmed with it, overflowing with it. So I ran away. But I’m not running anymore. I’m not.” She took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant. And I told your father. I told him it was your baby. I think I’ve lost everything.”
He stood there, looking stunned. “You... You’re pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“You little fool. Why did you tell him that I was the father?”
“Because you are. Because I’m proud that you’re the father of my baby. And I’m proud that you’re the love of my life. Because I wanted him to know. Because I wanted everyone to know. Because... Because I was committed. To being brave. To being honest. I am not hiding away parts of myself to stay safe anymore. So I am very, very not safe and I’m so glad that you’re here.”
He gathered her up in his arms. “You’re not running. But I came after you. To tell you that I loved you, even then. To tell you that I have done everything in the intervening years to try and convince myself that I didn’t need you. But I did. You were always what was missing. You are my fate, Ariadne. You are right about that. Because nothing was ever quite so perfect as it was when we were together. And we didn’t find this as soon as we might have. But we have it now. We have it now.”
“I love you.”
“And I love you. Always.”
It had started in the Diamond Club, with that empty chair. Or perhaps it had truly started here, all those years ago. But one thing she knew for certain was that she loved Dionysus Katrakis with all of her soul.
And there was no room at all for fear.