27. Tia
A muffled thud jolted me awake.
For a disorienting moment, I thought I was back in Greece. My heart jumped, then sank. Not Thalassía. Not Santo. Just my American bedroom, all shadows and silence.
Another sound reached me—something between a groan and a retch. Pushing back the covers, I padded across the cool hardwood floor, following the noise down the hallway toward my mother’ s bedroom.
The bathroom light spilled from beneath the door, accompanied by another painful-sounding heave.
“Mom?” I called softly, knocking once before pushing the door open.
My mother kneeled on the tile floor, her body curved over the toilet bowl, one hand clutching her stomach while the other gripped the porcelain edge. A thin sheen of sweat glistened her forehead.
“Oh my God,” I gasped, rushing to her side. I gathered her braids away from her face as she heaved again. “Mom, what’s wrong?”
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Nothing serious,” she managed, her voice raspy. “Just upset stomach.”
I filled a glass with water from the sink and handed it to her. “You look terrible. Was it something you ate?”
Mom took a small sip, cringing. “Probably that seafood broil from last night. The shrimp tasted fine, but...” she trailed off, closing her eyes momentarily.
“We should go to the hospital,” I said, already calculating how quickly I could get dressed and schedule a ride. “Food poisoning can be serious.”
“It’s not that bad,” she insisted. She took another sip of water. “I’ll be fine in a few hours. Some dry toast and ginger tea will set me right. ”
I helped her stand, steadying her when she wavered slightly. “You sure? You never get sick.”
Her smile seemed forced. “I’m fine, baby. Really.” She smoothed her rumpled nightgown, deliberately changing the subject. “What about Thalassía? Is everything completely done now?”
With her extensive work travels lately, we’d barely had time to talk. Meanwhile, I’d forced myself to rejoin the world. I’d gone on two dates. Both pleasant enough, if a bit surreal.
After years of invisibility to men, their sudden interest felt strange. The attorney who took me to dinner last week had asked for a second date.
I guided her back to her bedroom, settling her against the pillows. “Yes, I sent the final revisions to Aristides last week. He approved everything.”
“And?”
“My work with the Christakis family is officially complete.” I pulled the comforter over her legs. “Construction has begun.”
Mom nodded. “You could always go back, you know. To see your vision come to fruition.”
Two months had passed since we’d left Greece, since my world had shattered. The wound had scabbed over, but still ached when prodded .
Katalina had fled back to New York after the gala. The sex tape had proven devastating. Society mothers warned their sons away, business associates canceled meetings with her father, and social invitations vanished overnight.
I’d be lying if I said I felt no satisfaction. After everything she’d put me through, there was justice in watching her world crumble the way she thought mine would with her lies.
“I’m okay here,” I said, adjusting her pillows. “Besides, I’m waiting to hear back from Jensen & Associates. The interview went well, and Mr. Jensen seemed impressed with the Thalassía portfolio.”
“That’s wonderful,” Mom said, though her expression remained concerned. “But seeing your first major project constructed—”
“Will happen through photos and video updates.” I squeezed her hand. “Dimitrios promised to send me regular documentation of the progress.”
Mom opened her mouth to respond, but the doorbell chime interrupted her. It was barely past dawn, far too early for casual visitors.
“I’ll get it,” I said, already moving toward the door. “You rest. Do you want me to bring you some tea when I come back up? ”
“Yes, sweetheart.” She waved me away, then suddenly pressed her hand to her mouth, looking queasy again. “Maybe I should make myself comfortable in the bathroom.”
I hurried downstairs, wondering who could be visiting at this hour. For one irrational moment, I imagined Santo on the other side, but I quickly dismissed the thought. He had respected my wishes to stay away these past months.
Reaching the front door, I pulled it open. The sun momentarily blinded me. Blinking, I focused on the figure standing on our porch.
“Zeus?” I gasped, stunned at the sight of the enormous Irish Wolfhound sitting politely beside a tall man whose face was obscured by the light behind him.
The dog’s tail thumped wildly against the wooden boards of our porch. He lunged forward, nearly knocking me over as he pressed his head against my stomach, whimpering with joy.
“Hey, boy,” I whispered, sinking to my knees to embrace him properly. I buried my face in his coarse fur. “I missed you too.”
Two months of emptiness crashed through me as I held him. Eight weeks of waking up without his weight at the foot of my bed, of walking without his loyal presence beside me, of missing a connection I’d never expected to form .
As I kneeled there, arms wrapped around Zeus, I became acutely aware of the second visitor. I slowly raised my eyes, already knowing who I would see.
Santo stood on the porch, hands in his pockets, uncertainty written across features I’d memorized in dreams. He’d lost weight, the sharp angles of his face more pronounced.
Dark circles shadowed his eyes, making the blue more intense by contrast. His hair was longer than I’d ever seen it, curling slightly at the ends.
When our eyes met, the world seemed to pause between heartbeats.
“I know you said not to follow you,” he said quietly. “But Zeus didn’t make any promises.”
I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice while fighting the treacherous warmth spreading through my body. “You flew him across an ocean for me?”
“He wouldn’t leave your room,” Santo said, his voice rougher than I remembered. “After you left, he slept by your door for weeks. Nothing would console him.” A smile flickered across his face. “He chose you, Tia. Just like I did.”
I stood, keeping one hand on Zeus’s head. “As a weapon against Katalina.”
“At first,” he admitted, not dodging the truth. “But you became my choice. My only choice. ”
“Words are easy,” I said, though my resolve was wavering at the sight of him. Each second in his presence made the walls around my heart more fragile.
“Which is why I stayed away these past months,” he replied. “I wanted to come the day you left. Then the week after. Then every day since.” His fingers flexed at his sides. “But I needed to respect your decision, even when it was killing me.”
The pain in his voice mirrored my own sleepless nights. The memories, the what-ifs—they’d been eating me alive too.
“So why now?”
“Because I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try.” His voice broke slightly. “Not for my sake, but for yours. You deserve to hear the truth, even if you choose to send me away afterward.”
“The truth?” I repeated, unable to keep the skepticism from my voice. Truth had been in short supply when we began.
Santo took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with it. “The only way I can get through this is with complete honesty. It’s what you deserve.”
He took a small step toward me, close enough that I could catch the faint scent of his cologne. The aroma had clung to my clothes, my skin, my memories.
“What I did to you was wrong,” he began. “It was cruel and thoughtless, selfish and calculating. From that first moment on the roadside, I saw you as a means to an end. For that, I will never forgive myself.”
I didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. Every muscle in my body tensed as I fought to maintain control of emotions threatening to break free.
“When I decided to pursue you, I did it with revenge in mind,” he continued. “I figured there was nothing that would upset Katalina more than seeing me with a friend she deemed beneath her.”
I winced, the admission reopening wounds I’d thought were healing.
“But we began spending time together,” Santo said, his voice softening. “I discovered how exciting it was to make you laugh. I began to see my own home, my own country, through your eyes, and everything was more beautiful.”
I kept my expression neutral despite the way his words resonated with me. Sunset walks along Thalassía’s shoreline, the warmth of his hand in mine as we explored ancient ruins, the way he’d listened when I explained the historical significance of buildings.
“Suddenly, it wasn’t about revenge,” he said. “It was about you. Everything was about you. You were all I thought about, all I could see or hear. From then on, the only thing I wanted was to make you happy.” He shook his head. “You were right to walk away. ”
I’d expected excuses, justifications. Not this complete acceptance of blame.
“But I can’t let us end like this.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Not without telling you that I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything. That I’ve changed, not because I wanted to win you back, but because loving you made me want to be better.”
Santo dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing his face against my stomach. His body trembled against mine as he whispered, “Tia, please, don’t make me live in a world where you don’t love me anymore.”
My breath caught painfully in my chest. Zeus pressed closer against my legs, as if lending me his strength.
Santo’s grip tightened, his voice anguished. “I don’t know how to live without you... and I don’t want to learn.”
He looked up at me, his eyes burning with emotion. “You changed me. All the parts of me that were impulsive, thoughtless, selfish. You touched them all. Do you think I could ever go back to being who I was before you?”
My fingers twitched with the desire to touch him, to run my hands through his hair as I had so many times before. The gesture felt impossible now, and yet I yearned for it.
“Marry me,” he said suddenly. “Build a life with me. Give me the chance to be the man you deserve. ”
Tears welled in my eyes, hovering at the corners but not yet falling. Before I could speak, he continued.
“If you tell me you don’t love me anymore, I’ll try to let you go.” His voice was desperate. “But if there’s even a sliver of hope... I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to earn your trust.”
A half laugh, half sob escaped me as the tears finally spilled over. I shook my head, watching his expression fall before I spoke.
“You’re such an asshole.” I didn’t even sound mad. I was just tired and over it.
“I am,” he agreed vehemently. “But I’m your asshole. Or at least, I want to be.”
I wiped my face like that would help. Spoiler: it didn’t . “You wrecked me, Chrys.”
His arms tightened around me. “I know.”
I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “And now you just show up? Hoping I let you back into my life like it’s no big deal?”
“It won’t be easy, aggelé mou,” he said, his voice raspy. The familiar endearment felt like a balm. “But it will be worth it.”
I exhaled shakily, considering his words. The pain of his betrayal weighed against the emptiness of these months without him. The joy we’d shared against the risk of trusting again.
“I hate you,” I said. And yeah, that was a big ol’ lie .
My hands found his shoulders, pulling him up to stand before me. Chrys cupped my face in his hands.
“No, you don’t,” he murmured, brushing away the tears on my cheeks.
“I want to,” I admitted. “It would be easier.”
“I know.” He kissed my lips. “But we’ve never taken the easy path, have we?”
The truth of his words resonated within me. From the moment I’d pulled him from that car, nothing between us had been simple. Nothing had been predictable or safe. But everything had been vibrant, alive with a passion I’d never experienced before… or since.
“I won’t promise you that we’ll never fight,” he said softly. “I can’t say we’ll never hurt each other. Life is messy that way. But I can promise you that I will love you forever, fiercely and completely. And I will never walk away from you, even when it gets hard.”
These past months without him had been a study in emptiness. Going through motions, living a half-life. I’d tried to move forward, to rebuild, but something essential had been missing. Not just Chrys, but the braver, more adventurous, more alive version of myself that existed when I was with him.
“I want a winter wedding,” I said finally.
His stunned laugh was beautiful to hear. Joy transformed his face .
“You’re saying you’ll marry me?”
I rolled my eyes, my smile widening into a grin despite myself. “Obviously.”
Chrys pulled me into his arms, holding me close to his heart as he kissed me softly at first, then with growing passion, as I responded. I kissed him back with all the emotion I’d been holding inside these long, empty months. Zeus danced around us, barking his approval.
Some things were worth fighting for, worth forgiving for. And Chrysanthos Christakis, for all his flaws and despite our complicated beginning, was one of them.
When we pulled apart, breathless, I saw a future filled with challenge and passion, growth and love. It wouldn’t be perfect. It wouldn’t be easy. But it would be ours.