Chapter 28 Aristides
Dede and I stood together at the altar of Mount Olive Baptist, Kandi and Markos our only witnesses. Chrysanthos was in the middle of his racing season, with back-to-back competitions that kept him and Tia in Europe.
When we’d called to tell them about our plans for a quick legal ceremony now, followed by a proper celebration later, Chrysanthos had been enthusiastic, while Tia had been quieter but happy for us.
They both understood this first wedding was purely practical, ensuring everything was official before their siblings arrived.
The lavish wedding, the one where Tia would stand beside her mother and my mother would weep with joy, would happen after our children were born.
The last three weeks had been agony for me. I would have flown us to Vegas the evening I proposed, but I wanted the ceremony performed by Pastor William.
Image of Deanna in fuchsia dress...
Dede looked striking in a simple fuchsia dress that accommodated her pregnancy and ended just below her knees.
Her skin had a distinctive glow, and her hair was styled in braids she’d jokingly called her “postpartum braids.” The delicate diamond tiara I’d gifted her on her birthday last week crowned her head, sparkling with each small movement.
The diamond bracelet I’d given her on Valentine’s Day glittered at her wrist, complemented by the matching diamond necklace and earrings I’d presented to her before we arrived at the church. Each time our eyes met, I felt a softening within myself.
The night of the proposal, she confessed she would have agreed to become my wife had I simply asked rather than stated, as I had been doing. My arrogance had postponed this moment by months. But I refused to wallow in regret.
Returning my focus to the present moment, I listened attentively to Pastor Williams.
He had declined to perform the ceremony three times. Each refusal had been couched in excuses about scheduling conflicts and prior commitments, but I’d seen through the pretense. He didn’t want to marry the woman he’d been pursuing to another man.
A seven-figure donation to Mount Olive Baptist’s building fund had resolved his reluctance rather quickly. The church board had been extremely persuasive when they approached him about performing this “special ceremony for such a generous benefactor.”
Now he stood before us, his expression professionally neutral, though I caught the tightness around his eyes each time he looked at Dede. Good. Let him recite the words that would legally bind the woman he desired to me forever.
It was petty, but deeply satisfying.
When the moment came for the rings, I slid the diamond band onto her finger first, followed by the enormous diamond engagement ring that completed the set. Her hands trembled as she placed my wedding band on my finger.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Pastor Williams said, his voice tight. He didn’t say anything else.
“You may now kiss the bride!” Kandi called out cheerfully from behind us.
I didn’t need permission. I pulled Dede into my arms and held her close, relishing the feel of her belly against my body before capturing her lips in a kiss that left no doubt about my feelings for my wife.
When we finally broke apart, Pastor Williams produced the marriage certificate. We signed quickly, and Kandi and Markos added their signatures as witnesses. The pastor set down his pen and turned to leave without a word.
Williams,” I called after him. He stopped, his shoulders stiffening. “I trust you will file paperwork promptly, yes. I developed a good relationship with your church board. I would hate to burden them with any concerns about their pastor’s professionalism.”
He nodded once and walked away.
“Legally and officially mine,” I whispered in her ear.
She pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, a playful smile on her lips. “Was it worth the seven figures?”
I couldn’t help but grin. “Every penny, yes.”
Dede laughed, shaking her head. “You’re worse than your son.”
“You married me anyway,” I pointed out, kissing her lips.
“I did,” she said, her smile softening as she reached up to touch my face. “And I’d do it again.”
“Good.” I brushed my lips against hers. “You are stuck with me now, yes?”
I felt rather than saw Kandi approach and reluctantly loosened my hold on Dede just enough to let her friend in. Kandi’s eyes were already glistening as she reached for Dede.
“I’m so happy for you!” Kandi embraced her friend warmly.
Markos stepped forward, extending his hand. “Congratulations, sir. Mrs. Christakis is a lucky woman.”
“I’m the lucky one,” I responded to him in Greek, shaking his hand while keeping my other arm around Dede’s waist.
Still, I wanted my wife to myself. I caught Kandi’s eye with an apologetic smile. “I would like to steal her away now.”
Kandi laughed, wiping at her eyes. “Of course. Go celebrate.”
“I’ll call you later,” Dede promised, hugging her friend one last time.
I guided Dede down the church aisle and through the doors into bright sunshine that seemed to make everything appear fresh. I was once again a married man, and thoroughly content with that fact.
Markos opened the door to the limousine, and I helped Dede into the back seat before sliding in beside her.
“Do you know what I want to do with you now?” I began, considering the various ways we could spend our wedding day.
Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she reached for my belt. “I have a better idea. A wedding gift for my husband.”
Before I could respond, she was sliding down to the floor between my legs, her hands already working my zipper. The privacy screen was up, and the heavily tinted windows ensured complete discretion.
“Dede,” I started, trying to maintain some semblance of restraint. “We should wait until we are home.”
“Why?” She looked up at me through her lashes, her hands still working my zipper. “I want to do it now.”
Any argument I might have made dissolved as her warm mouth enveloped me.
My head fell back against the leather seat, one hand tangling in her braids. She took her time, alternating between slow movements and faster strokes that had me gripping the armrest.
“Mrs. Christakis,” I groaned, watching her through half-lidded eyes. The sight of my wife, wearing the diamonds I’d given her, pleasuring me in the back of the limousine was almost too much.
She hummed in response, the vibration sending pleasure through me. Her hands worked in tandem with her mouth, and I felt myself approaching the edge embarrassingly quickly.
“Dede,” I groaned, my hand tightening in her braids. “Do not stop.”
She took me deeper, and I came with a guttural sound, my body tensing as the climax hit me in a single, devastating rush.
When she finally pulled back, there was a satisfied smile on her lips. I pulled her up onto my lap—as much as her belly would allow—and kissed her.
“That was quite the wedding gift.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Christakis.” She adjusted herself atop me, smoothing her dress. “Now, what were you saying about what you wanted to do with me?”
I was about to answer when my phone vibrated in my pocket.
Annoyed, I grabbed the phone and glanced at the screen. I had told my assistants in no uncertain terms that I was not to be disturbed today.
Then I saw it was my son. I answered promptly.
A concerning silence followed. “Chrysanthos?” My tone, despite speaking Greek, caused Dede to look at me with concern.
“Father,” he finally said. His voice was strained. “It’s Grandmother. She had a stroke. A bad one.” My body tensed as my joy evaporated instantly.
“Where is she now?”
“In surgery. We’re all at the hospital.” His voice steadied as he shifted into details — the timeline, what the doctors had said, what the next few hours would determine. I listened without interrupting. The prognosis was not good.
“Aris?” Dede’s hand found my arm, and I saw the worry in her face.
I ended the call and tried to tell her what Chrysanthos had told me, but the words came out fractured. My mother. A stroke. Surgery. The woman who’d raised me, who’d never given up on me even when I’d given up on myself — and I was thousands of miles away.
I looked down at the wedding band I’d worn for less than an hour. Every instinct told me to go to her immediately. But Dede could go into labor at any moment. If I stayed, my mother could die without me at her side. If I left, something could happen to Dede or our children.
“Aris, you have to go. Call your pilot.”
“I will not leave you, no.”
She kissed my cheek. “I’m your wife. We’re in this together. I’m coming with you.”
“Absolutely not.” I shook my head. “You are thirty-six weeks pregnant, yes. You are not getting on plane for eleven-hour flight.”
Her face set in that stubborn way I’d come to recognize. “Your mother might be dying, Aris. You think I’m going to let you go through that alone?”
“You could go into labor at any moment!”
“Then we’ll bring a doctor. But I’m not staying here.” She crossed her arms over her rounded belly. “Either you call your pilot or I’ll book a commercial flight right now.”
“You will do no such thing!”
“Watch me.” She pulled out her phone.
I grabbed her wrist. “Dede, please. I cannot risk your life or that of our children. No airline would even let you board.”
“Then I’ll charter one myself.” Her eyes shimmered with sudden tears. “We just got married, Aris. For better or worse, remember? This is the worst part. We do it together.”
“The answer, it is no.”
“Then I’m going, anyway.” She didn’t look away. “I’m getting on a plane with or without you.”
I stared at her, recognizing that look. She would do it. She would find some cut-rate charter or exhaust herself trying to bypass every safety protocol. She was a woman of competence and fire, and right now, her fire was aimed at me.
I could fight her, or I could control the variables.
With a frustrated growl, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number Dr. Bedi had given me weeks ago—the direct line I’d earned after interrogating her so thoroughly she’d finally surrendered it just to get me out of her office.
She answered on the second ring.
“Dr. Bedi, it’s Aristides Christakis. Can Dede travel to Greece?”
“Not at thirty-six weeks. Air travel is extremely risky. The changes in cabin pressure, the stress, the possibility of going into labor mid-flight—”
“What if you came with us?” I interrupted.
Silence on the other end.
“I have private plane. It will be outfitted with full medical equipment. You can bring two of your best nurses. You will have everything you need. I will fly you back to America the moment we land. Name your price.”
Another pause. “Mr. Christakis—”
“Name it. Whatever you want. Please help me keep my wife and children safe while I go to my sick mother.”
Dr. Bedi was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was thoughtful. “There’s a clinic in my hometown in India. Rural area, very poor. They desperately need medical equipment—an ultrasound machine, surgical supplies, incubators for their maternity ward.”
“Consider it done, yes. I will write check right now.”
“And a generator,” she added. “The power goes out constantly.”
“Two generators. Industrial grade. And three ambulances. Anything else?”
“That’s more than enough, Mr. Christakis.” I heard the smile in her voice. “I’ll need two hours to arrange coverage for my other patients and pack. Have your pilot file a medical flight plan.”
I exhaled with relief. “Thank you, Dr. Bedi.”
When I hung up, Dede was watching me with a mixture of triumph and tenderness.
“You will be death of me,” I muttered, pulling her close.
“You love me anyway,” she said softly.
“I do, yes.” I kissed her forehead. “But if anything happens to you on that plane—”
“Nothing will happen. We have Dr. Bedi.” She smiled up at me. “Now call your pilot. Let’s go see your mother.”