Chapter 13 Deanna
Driving home beneath the gray, heavy January sky, I noted the bare trees lining the road. My seat was pushed so far back that last week Mama Nettie joked I looked like I was piloting a ship from the back deck.
I’d laughed then. I wasn’t laughing now.
The meeting with Black Ember Distilling Co. kept replaying in my head. It had started promisingly enough with Maxwell Ware, the owner’s son-in-law, listening attentively while I outlined my marketing plan.
Hell, he’d called my marketing approach “innovative” and “exactly what we need to reach younger demographics.” Then he’d invited my husband and me to spend a weekend at their Kentucky farm distillery to “get a better feel for the brand.”
“I’m not married,” I’d said, like it was no big deal.
“Oh.” He’d glanced at my very obvious pregnant belly, then quickly away, running a hand through his hair.
“Look, I’ll be straight with you because I think your work is exceptional.
My father-in-law, Douglas, is... traditional.
Very traditional. He built this company on what he calls ‘family values,’ and he has strong opinions about the people we partner with. ”
“You mean unmarried pregnant women?” I’d kept my voice level.
Maxwell had the decency to look embarrassed.
“He told me last week that he won’t do business with anyone who doesn’t represent ‘traditional American family values.’ His words, not mine.
” He lowered his voice. “I’ve been fighting him on this for years.
I’ve lost three potential partnerships because of his prejudices, and honestly, I’m running out of ways to work around him. ”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I want to work with you. Your approach is exactly what we need.
But Douglas wants to meet you at the distillery, and when he sees.
..” He’d trailed off, then met my eyes directly.
“The visit is scheduled for next weekend. If something... changes... let me know by Wednesday. Otherwise...” He stood, extending his hand with genuine regret in his eyes.
“I’m really sorry about this, Ms. White. ”
“Can you believe this backwards bullshit? In this day and age?” My voice rose with indignation as I recounted the story to Kandi through my car’s Bluetooth. “Maxwell’s trying to help, at least. But his father-in-law sounds like he stepped out of a time machine.”
“Fuck Douglas Embers,” Kandi declared. “Seriously. Any client who judges you based on your marital status doesn’t deserve your genius. Let them hire some mediocre married white dude and watch their brand tank.”
She had a point. But… “It’s a four-point-three-million- dollar contract, Kandi.”
Silence on the other end. Then, “...Okay, so maybe we don’t fuck ’em just yet. Maybe we strategically un-fuck them by taking their money and proving them wrong.”
“That’s what I thought.”
This rejection stung more than I wanted to admit. Not just because of the money, though God knows I could use it with two babies coming.
It was the principle. I’d built TMW Marketing from nothing, and earned every client through sheer competence. The idea that my personal life could derail everything I’d worked for made me want to scream.
But more than that, it made me question everything. Was I being na?ve in thinking I could do this alone? Was my independence actually hurting my business?
I sighed as I stopped at a red light, absently rubbing my belly where one of the twins was kickboxing against my ribs.
“Though I gotta say,” Kandi continued, “this is what you get for following Tia to Greece and having a fling. Our kids are grown, Dee. And here you are, starting over with not one, but two babies.”
I bristled. “How was I supposed to know a fifteen-year-old tubal ligation would spontaneously reverse itself?”
“You should sue that hospital, honestly, because what the actual fuck?” She switched gears. “Have you heard from your Greek god yet?”
“Nope,” I tried to sound unbothered. “Radio silence since I turned down his marriage offer in Switzerland.”
Aris had unexpectedly left Switzerland on Christmas morning to handle a work emergency, and I hadn’t heard from him since. Not a text. Not a call. Nothing.
I didn’t want to think about how many times a day I checked my phone and replayed our parting words in my head, wondering if I’d been too harsh.
How I’d started typing messages to him dozens of times, only to delete them before hitting send. Every morning I woke up thinking maybe today he’d call, and every night I went to bed disappointed.
The truth was, I missed him. Not just the physical intimacy, though God knows pregnancy hormones made that particular absence unbearable some days.
I missed his voice. His laugh. The way he listened when I talked about work. The way he made me feel like I were the only woman in the world.
But I also resented missing him. I’d spent the last decade building a life that didn’t require anyone else’s validation or support.
I’d raised Tia, built my business, and bought my house, all on my own. The fact that some man could waltz into my life for a few months and leave me feeling incomplete had me questioning everything I believed about myself.
When I pulled into the driveway of my two-story Craftsman-style house, fatigue weighed heavily on me. I was still bummed about how the meeting had ended. Maybe tonight I’d come up with a game plan, or possibly shop for maternity business wear that didn’t scream “pregnant.”
Or maybe I’d call Tia, though what was the point? She and Santo were on their eight-week honeymoon.
Since Thanksgiving, our twice-daily conversations had dwindled to weekly check-ins lasting less than a minute. The daughter who once enthusiastically shared every detail of her day now treated me like a distant relative.
The isolation was getting to me. Tia was busy with her new life, Kandi had her own family obligations, and here I was, twenty-one weeks pregnant, feeling more alone than I had in years. Maybe that’s why Aris’s silence hurt so much.
My headlights caught a massive black SUV parked in my driveway. What the hell?
A tall figure detached from the vehicle, backlit by my porch light. Even in silhouette, I knew that posture, build and presence.
No freaking way.
“Kandi, I gotta go.” I ended the call before she could ask why, my heart doing something complicated and unwelcome in my chest.
I sat frozen in my car, watching him through the windshield. The man who’d left me in Switzerland without a word had materialized on my doorstep without warning.
With the suddenness of a predator, Aris spun toward my car and closed the distance in long strides. Before I could decide whether to stay put or back out of my driveway, he was there, pulling open the driver’s side door.
Cold January air rushed in, along with the scent of his cologne. That same earthy, expensive smell that used to cling to my sheets.
“Dede.” He extended his hand.
“Aris,” I acknowledged, looking up at him. I kept my voice neutral, refusing to rise from the car. “You’re a long way from Greece.”
“I have been waiting two hours.” He gestured toward my porch, and that’s when I noticed the matching set of leather luggage stacked by my front door. “It is cold, yes?”
Ignoring his proffered hand, I eased myself out of the car. I could hear his footsteps on the pavement behind me as I walked to my front door. I wanted to run, lock myself inside, and call through the door that he should’ve called first.
Instead, I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and left it open. Aris gathered his luggage and deposited it just inside the entryway.
Rather than contemplate what that meant, I flicked on lights as I walked toward the kitchen, illuminating the dining room with its table I’d refinished myself.
The house smelled like the cinnamon apple candles I’d burned earlier, mixed with the lingering aroma of the cornbread I’d baked for lunch. My house wasn’t the biggest or the fanciest I could afford now, but it was mine.
“You have beautiful home,” he said from somewhere behind me.
“Thanks.” I reached the kitchen, suddenly self-conscious about the breakfast dishes I’d left in the sink.
I turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. He stood in the archway between the dining room and the kitchen.
“How are you feeling? The babies, are you well?”
“Almost two weeks of radio silence, and suddenly you’re worried about my health?”
“I deserved that.” He took a step into the kitchen.
“There was accident at one of our factories in Thessaloniki. No one was seriously injured, but it required my immediate attention. And then there were matters with the business I needed to resolve in Athens before I could come here. To you.” He gestured back toward the dining room. “Sit, please. We should speak, yes?”
“About?” I asked
“About us. The future.” His gaze dropped to my belly, then rose to meet my eyes. “Our children, they deserve married parents.”
I groaned, brushing past him to return to the dining room, and lowered myself onto a chair with the grace of a beached whale. Everything hurt these days.
“You keep saying our children deserve married parents. Maybe. But they also deserve parents who listen to each other. Maybe start there before you start planning vows.”
“I am listening and have made some arrangements.” He pulled out the chair beside mine. “My brothers, they will handle day-to-day operations at Olympus Motors. I will work remotely and travel to Greece as needed. But my priority, it is here. With you.”
“Aris…”
“Whether you agree to marry me today, tomorrow, or next month,” he continued, “I am staying. These are my children, Dede. I will not be absent father. And you, you will become my wife.”
My throat tightened. “Tia and Santo don’t even know about us yet. You can’t just upend your entire life.”
“I already have.” He gestured toward the entryway where his luggage sat.
“Before you even knew if I’d talk to you?”
“Yes.”
I wanted to tell him he shouldn’t move across the world for a woman who won’t marry him. But a part of me was thrilled that he’d come and he’d chosen us.
“Well,” I said finally, “I suppose that brings us to the next question. Where do you plan to live?”
“I was hoping you might have space in your bed, yes?”
“I don’t.”
“You are pregnant, and we will be married. It is logical we share a bed.”
The babies moved, and I took his hand and placed it where they were staging their gymnastics routine. They both tumbled and kicked.
His eyes widened as he felt the movement. Our gazes locked, and we shared a smile.
“You can stay, but we sleep separately,” I said firmly. “And don’t think that just because I allow you to stay here that I’ll marry you.”
“I respect your terms, yes.” He remained kneeling beside my chair. “But I will do everything in my power to convince you to marry me.”
Before I could respond, his mouth covered mine. The kiss was devoid of urgency, like everything else about this man. His lips pressed and shifted against mine with expertise.
My hand, which should have been shoving against his chest, curled into his shirt instead. The kiss deepened, and I let it, let him coax my mouth open.
The babies chose that exact moment to somersault, making me gasp against his mouth. Aris pulled back just enough to smile.
“They approve,” he whispered.
“They just hungry,” I retorted, using his shoulder to lever myself back. “Kissing wasn’t part of our arrangement.”
“If I recall, your terms, they specified separate sleeping arrangements and nothing about kissing.”
“It was implied,” I countered.
“Nothing is implied in business, Dede. Everything, it must be explicit.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. Damn it. He was right. “Well, I’m saying it now,” I said firmly, crossing my arms over my chest, which only served to push my pregnancy-swollen breasts up. His gaze darkened. “No kissing.”
“Too late, yes?” He reached out and ran his thumb across my bottom lip. “You cannot uncross that line, agápi mou.
The endearment made my heart skip. I’d missed hearing Greek on his lips, missed the way the language sounded like poetry when he spoke it.
“Fine,” I conceded, batting his hand away. “But no more kissing. That was the last one.”
“I have heard this before.” He pushed to his feet. “Should I take my bags to the guest room?”
“Yes. Since you’re clearly not sleeping in mine.”
“For now.”
“Forever,” I countered.
His smile said he didn’t believe me. “This guest room, it is where?”
“Upstairs. Last door on the left.”
This man would be impossible to live with, and yet, as I watched him cross back to the entryway and retrieve his luggage, I couldn’t deny the anticipation curling through me.
For the first time since Thanksgiving, I wouldn’t be going to bed alone in this house. Someone else would be down the hall, close enough to call if something went wrong with the pregnancy. Close enough to reach if the loneliness got too overwhelming.
It was a dangerous thought. The kind of thought that led to dependence, expectations, and heartbreak when the other person inevitably left.
But as one of the twins stretched against my ribs and Aris disappeared up the stairs with his luggage, I couldn’t quite bring myself to regret saying yes.