Chapter Thirteen #2
He understood finally why Aliyah had run. Why she had stayed away for so long. And he understood then that his ego had forbidden him to acknowledge that she had hurt him so deeply that he had never recovered.
“You and Mama and I…” Aliyah said, her breath ragged, “we twisted him inside out, Papa. You because you wanted an heir you could control. Mama because she never got over losing Julian and all her love for her son turned into hate for Constantine. And me—” her slender shoulders shook “—through my fear. I left him because I thought he was leaving me behind. We stole all the goodness and kindness that was at the core of Constantine. I don’t know what he would have chosen back then.
But that boy is gone, just as that naive, scared girl is gone.
Much as I wish, I can’t get that past back. I’m more concerned with the present.”
Theo must have seen the same fear Constantine had seen in her eyes for the past two weeks. “What do you mean?” he said, a thread of unease to his question.
“Some kid stabbed him in a back alley in London. How do we know that it’s not Mama who arranged it? How do we know that she’s not trying again to come between me and him, that she won’t succeed in harming my husband?”
A whiteness emerged under Theo’s ruddy skin, shock making his mouth open and close like a fish’s.
Not that Aliyah’s far-fetched theory didn’t deal another blow to Constantine’s middle. This was the root of her worry—that her mother was going to harm him? That she would ruin their marriage? Was that why she hadn’t told him about the pregnancy?
No wonder she had been looking like she would be crushed under the weight of this new fear. And he hated, hated, that she had been struggling with this alone, that she didn’t trust him to protect her and the fragile life they were building.
But then, even he couldn’t blame Noor this time.
It was because of him—of the bloody contract he had insisted on, the sterile, calculating arrangement he had made out of her life, the trap he had set for her when she needed help. Her lack of faith in him, her hiding the truth, this time it was all on him.
Because he had done everything but tell her what was in his heart—resentment, hurt, anger. And…more that he had told himself he did not feel.
“No, Aliyah,” Theo was saying, shaking his head. “That’s not possible. Your mother wouldn’t—”
“She hates him, Papa,” Aliyah was shouting now, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“And she hates me. She hates us for being alive when Julian’s gone, for finding solace and comfort and love in each other while she was all alone.
If you want to start over with me, Papa, if you want the old Constantine back, the one who worshipped you, then start with her.
Look after her. Fix things with her. Even if she didn’t do this, she’s ill, and she needs you. ”
Tears running down his cheeks, Theo enfolded her trembling, sobbing form into his arms.
Constantine couldn’t stand by and watch anymore. Not when she was crying as if her heart was breaking. Not this new, bold, brave Aliyah who sought to protect him after he trapped her, who still possessed such a vulnerable, generous heart beneath.
He walked into the living room and took her from the arms of a wrecked-looking Theo and for the first time in his life, he saw the warmth and concern and care he had wanted to see in the older man’s eyes.
He believed that the old man had changed.
But he couldn’t shake off the feeling that it was too late.
That he was too late.
He squeezed Theo’s shoulder, offering reassurance, promising him silently that he would take care of her before lifting Aliyah into his arms.
She burrowed into him, her tears wetting his already damp shirt as he took the stairs to their bedroom, his heart in his throat. “Shh…fterouga, enough tears. You will make yourself sick. Enough, do you hear me?”
She hiccuped, her shoulders quaking. “I’m scared, Constantine. I can’t bear it if she came between us again.” Her soft palm cradled his neck, clinging on for dear life. “I can’t bear it if we…we lost the life we are building, all over again. I’m pregnant and I can’t bear it if—”
“Shh.” Tears crowded his throat, but he held them off. Christos, how he loved this woman. It had always been her, then and now. And she had been right, that whatever love had been in him, she had carved it out and taken it with her when she’d left.
The best parts of him had ceased to exist without Aliyah around to nurture them.
Maybe he had never even stopped loving her, maybe his whole fucked-up scheme to make her surrender was nothing but another delusion he had swallowed because he simply wanted her.
In his life.
In his heart.
Whatever way he could get her.
Even that mortifying realization didn’t stop him from vowing to himself and her, “No, poulaki mou, no one’s coming between us, Aliyah. Not this time.”
And as he brought her to their bed and gently deposited her into it, and she rolled into him and fell asleep within seconds wrapped around him like a vine, he blew out a ragged breath.
Christos, he loved her so much. So much that his actions, seen through this new lens, told him he had blown his chance with her.
Because he couldn’t keep her. Not like this. Not with a damned contract between them. He couldn’t bear to live with her, raise a family with her, grow old with her, if she didn’t love him back.