Chapter 16 Aristides
Istared at the books long after Dede left, before setting them aside. There was one person who might understand this situation. One who had always given me honest counsel, even when I didn’t want to hear it.
I checked the time difference—early evening in Greece—and dialed.
“Ari?” my mother’s voice came through. “Calling at this hour? The world must be ending.”
“Hello, Mother.” I moved to the window, watching for Dede’s return. “I find myself in need of your particular wisdom.”
“Now I know something’s wrong.” The teasing in her voice almost made me smile. “Is it about Santo?”
“No,” I paused, suddenly realizing I had no elegant way to deliver this news. “I’m going to be a father again. Twins. A boy and a girl.”
The silence on the other end was deafening. When she finally spoke, her voice was a whisper.
“Twins? But who—” she stopped herself. “Tell me everything, Ari. Now.”
“Deanna is pregnant with my children.”
“Aristides!” Her voice rose. “Deanna... Tia’s mother. You and Deanna...”
I explained about our summer together, then finding out our children were engaged, our subsequent breakup, and the unexpected pregnancy.
Another long pause, during which I could practically hear her mind working through the implications. “And Santo and Tia have no idea, do they?”
“Not yet. Dede wants to wait before telling them.”
“Finding out your parents are expecting babies while you’re married... I imagine Tia’s going to have strong feelings about this.”
“Which is why we’re waiting until after the honeymoon to tell them.”
“Oh, my son.” I heard movement, and imagined her sinking into her favorite chair. “Two more grandbabies. And twins again.” Her voice grew quieter. “How are you feeling about that, Ari? After Lydia and Kalliope... It must be frightening for you, after everything you lost.”
“The physician assured me she is healthy,” I replied carefully. “The pregnancy progresses without complications.”
“Good. But that wasn’t what I was asking.”
“Mother, I didn’t call to discuss the past. I called because Dede and I had an argument earlier. I... miscalculated her reaction to something I did.”
“Aristides Nikolaou Christakis.” My mother’s voice carried the weight of forty-four years of knowing me. “What did you do?”
I stared at the books again and suddenly wondered if my reasoning was as sound as I’d believed. “She had books about single parenting, and I threw them out, replacing them with more appropriate books.”
“Ari.” The disappointment in her voice was immediate. “You threw away her belongings without asking. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking those books didn’t reflect our reality. We’re going to be married and raise these children together. She doesn’t need books about doing it alone.”
“Ari, they’re just books.”
“They represent her mindset.”
“Or they represent what she thought her situation was when she bought them. Did you consider that?”
I suddenly felt less certain about my reasoning. “She acted as if I’d committed some unforgivable crime. I expected her to be annoyed, not furious.”
“Oh, my firstborn.” I could hear the smile warming her voice. “Women don’t respond well to having their independence threatened, especially strong women like Deanna. “
“I bought better books—”
“If you want Deanna as your wife, perhaps try wooing her instead of controlling her reading material.”
“Thank you for listening, Mother.” I moved away from the window. “I should go to Dede.”
“Yes, you should. And Ari?” Her voice softened. “I expect you both back in Greece before the start of summer. My new grandchildren need their yiayiá.”
“We’ll discuss that detail another time.”
I ended the call and called for a lift. The conversation had clarified something important. I’d threatened her independence, which was fundamental to who she was.
There was no scenario in which I would accept being written out of my children’s story. The difference was that now I understood I needed to bring Dede willingly to that same conclusion, rather than forcing it upon her.
Thirty minutes later, I was seated in the backseat of the SUV parked outside Kandi’s townhouse. From where I sat, I could see the small front porch illuminated by exterior lighting.
I checked my watch. She’d been inside for nearly two hours now.
“Markos, has the team settled into their accommodations?” I asked, thinking of the single-story house I’d purchased across from Dede’s house last week.
The real estate agent had been perplexed by my insistence on that specific location and my disinterest in viewing the interior, but money had resolved her concerns.
“Yes, sir. The security systems are being installed tomorrow, but otherwise everything is comfortable.”
“Good.”
My gaze returned to Kandi’s front door. Should I go in? Force a conversation?
“We’ll wait,” I said, pulling out my tablet to review some financial reports.
The minutes stretched into another hour, the silence in the car broken only by the occasional message alert and the hum of the engine keeping the climate control running.
“Sir?” Markos’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “I believe they’re coming out.”
I straightened, watching as the front door opened. Dede emerged first, followed by Kandi. They embraced briefly before Dede turned toward our vehicle.
I made a quick decision and opened the door, stepping out to meet her halfway. Our eyes met across the short distance, and she stopped.
“Well, look who came to collect his woman personally,” Kandi said, crossing her arms. “Dee’s future husband himself.”
Dede narrowed her eyes at her friend.
“Good evening, Kandi,” I said, nodding politely. “Thank you for looking after Dede this evening.”
“Oh, you know me,” Kandi replied with a dismissive wave. “Always happy to provide food and perspective.”
“We need to go,” Dede cut in. “Thanks for everything, K.”
“Remember what I said,” Kandi called as she retreated to her front door.
I opened the SUV’s rear door for Dede, and she slid in without looking at me. I circled around and joined her in the back seat.
“Home, please, Markos,” I said.
The silence between Dede and me stretched taut as we drove through the quiet streets. In the dim interior of the vehicle, I admired the curve of her cheek and the soft swell of her belly where our children grew.
“I regret upsetting you,” I said finally. “It was not my intention.”
She turned to look at me. “But you’re not sorry about throwing away my belongings.”
“I saw those books,” I said, “and all I could think was you had written me out of picture. And you had decided our children did not need father.”
“I do want you in our children’s lives. I don’t want them to experience what Tia experienced, Aris. Those books were not about you.”
“Then what were they about?” I asked.
Dede was quiet for several minutes. “Wealthy, powerful men rarely uproot their entire lives for unplanned pregnancies with women they barely know. They send lawyers and monthly checks.”
“You, you are not woman I barely know.” The words came out sharp, roughened by the suggestion that what we had shared meant so little.
“We may have only had two months, but I know you can swim, but refuse to because you do not want to ruin your hair. I know you are passionate about what you believe in, but you listen and compromise—like accepting your daughter’s marriage even when you think she and Chrysanthos are too young. ”
She looked away, blinking rapidly.
I reached out, turning her face back to mine with my fingertips beneath her chin.
“I know you sleep on your left side and you steal covers. I know you laugh at your own jokes before you tell them.” I moved closer.
“I know little sound you make when you are falling asleep, and way you stretch like cat when you wake up.”
“Oh.” Just that one syllable.
“And I know,” I continued, “you are strongest woman I have ever met. Strong enough to raise an exceptional daughter, build successful business, and face unexpected twin pregnancy with grace.” I paused.
“But strength does not mean you have to carry everything alone. It can also mean knowing when to let someone share the load.”
“I don’t know how to do it any other way,” she admitted quietly.
Her admission triggered my protectiveness.
I had built my life around knowing exactly where each piece belonged.
Dede, with her independence and fierce self-reliance, challenged that order, and yet I found myself wanting to create a new system around her, one that preserved her strength while offering my own as a complement.
I closed the distance between us. “May I?”
She nodded.
I pulled her to my side and stroked her hair. She smelled of flowers.
“I am never leaving you or our children,” I murmured against her temple. “Which means two of us—two former solo parents who made unilateral decisions regarding our older children—must now learn to work together.”
“That sounds terrifying and wonderful at the same time.” Dede looked up at me. “You really remember the sound I make when I fall asleep?”
“A soft little sigh, almost like contentment.” I brushed my thumb across her cheek. “I remember everything about you, Dede, and I am not going anywhere. Not unless you physically throw me out, and given your current condition, I like my odds.”
That startled a wet laugh out of her. “Don’t make me laugh. I’m still mad at you.”
“I will do anything to make it up to you.” I brushed my lips against her forehead.
“Anything?”
“Yes. All you have to do is ask.”
“Will you, Aristides Christakis, be my husband for…”
I gave her no time to second-guess, pressing my mouth against hers.
She made a small sound of surprise, and I took full advantage of her parted lips. The kiss deepened, my tongue sweeping against hers with a hunger that had been building since she’d walked out of my bedroom last summer.
She kissed me back with equal fervor, her tongue meeting mine, and her breathing quickened.
Then she pulled away. “Aris, wait—”
“I completed marriage license applications for both Greece and Montrose, yes. All we need is your signature on whichever you prefer.” I cupped her face. “I hope you choose the U.S. application, this way you take my last name. Though I will accept if you hyphenate.”
The applications waited in my briefcase. I had my legal team research every possible obstacle and prepare alternate paths to achieve the same outcome.
Dede pulled back far enough to meet my eyes, one eyebrow arched. “Aren’t you considerate.”
I followed her lips, but she turned her head. “Only with you,” I said.
“Stop,” Dede held up a hand. “I was asking you to pretend to be my husband, not to actually marry you.”
“Pretend?”
“I had a meeting with Maxwell—Black Ember—two days ago. He loved my work and said it was exactly what their company needed to reach younger demographics. Then he invited my husband and me to their Kentucky distillery.” She met my eyes.
“I told him I wasn’t married, and he got this look on his face.
Turns out the owner, Maxwell’s father-in-law, won’t do business with people who don’t represent ‘traditional American family values.’ Meaning unmarried pregnant women. ”
“Let me understand this correctly. You need husband to secure contract with company whose owner discriminates against unmarried mothers.”
“Yes, so if we just pretend—”
“Absolutely not.”
Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“I am not pretending to be your husband, Dede. I am going to be your husband, yes.” I pulled her closer.
“You need ring on your finger. Done. We will marry tomorrow, and you will have legal documentation. It also solves your problem permanently. This will not be last time someone judges you for being unmarried with children.”
“That’s not a reason to get married.”
“No, but our children are. The fact that you’re carrying my babies and I’m never letting any of you go is.”
Dede looked up at me through her lashes, her voice softening. “You said you’d do anything to make it up to me. Anything I asked.”
“Yes, but not this.”
“One weekend, Aris.” She slid her hand up my chest. “That’s all I’m asking. Help me get this contract. Be my husband for three days, and I promise...” Her fingers traced my collar. “I’ll give marriage serious consideration.”
I should say no. Tell her I don’t do pretend, don’t do halfway, don’t do temporary. But her hand was sliding higher, her scent was surrounding me, and my children were moving under my palm as if they approved of their mother’s manipulation tactics.
“If I am to be your husband temporarily, I will do it properly, yes. Which means you follow my lead.”
Her eyes flashed with challenge, lips parting to argue.
I kissed her before she could. She melted into me, her body remembering what her mind wanted to resist.
When I pulled back, we were both breathing hard.
“So we have a deal?” she asked.
“Oh, we have much more than deal, Dede.” I traced her bottom lip with my thumb. “We have full weekend for me to convince you pretending to be mine, it is not nearly as satisfying as actually being mine.”
“That’s not—that wasn’t…”
“And I promise, by the end, you will not remember why you wanted to pretend in first place, yes”
The SUV slowed as we turned onto her street.
Markos cleared his throat. “We’ve arrived, sir.”
Perfect timing.
I released Dede and opened my door, then turned back to help her out. She took my hand and let me guide her toward the house.