Epilogue
EPILOGUE
‘Do you think we’ve done everything?’
Odysseus slanted his wife a slow smile as she stood against the balustrade of the rooftop terrace, bathed in the vivid light of the setting sun.
Her coral-tinged hair tumbled to her waist and her petite figure was shown to spectacular advantage by a tiny pair of shorts and a pink camisole.
‘Everything looks perfect,’ he assured her. ‘Including you.’
She smiled. ‘Stop it,’ she whispered.
‘I’m not doing anything.’
‘Yes, you are. You’re looking at me like…’
‘Like what?’ he questioned, all faux innocence.
‘As if you’d like to eat me up.’
‘Ah. That I cannot deny.’ He walked towards her, enjoying the darkening of her magnificent eyes and hungry tremble of her lips. ‘Eating you up is one of my very favourite pastimes.’
Her cheeks were warm as he pulled her against him. ‘Mine, too,’ she admitted, reaching up on tiptoes to graze her lips against his jaw. ‘Despite the attempts of two little boys to come between us!’
Odysseus’s beat of pride was instant, because the love he felt for their twin sons, Apollo and Axis, was powerful and all-consuming.
‘Thank heavens for childcare,’ he remarked drily, though his words didn’t quite tell the whole story.
It was true they had plenty of help with their pair of rumbustious toddlers but to everyone’s surprise—his own included—he had proved to be a hands-on father.
To be around for the boys, but still able to devote as much time as possible to his beautiful wife.
Thus, he delegated much more these days and his reputation as a workaholic had taken a severe battering.
‘How about we drink some champagne and then go to bed?’ he suggested softly. ‘We’ve got a busy day tomorrow.’
‘I think I’ll pass on the champagne,’ she said. ‘Just hold me for a little while, will you?’
‘That would be my pleasure, angele mou ,’ he purred.
Grace snuggled even closer as Odysseus tightened his arms around her, revelling in the simple joy she found whenever he was near. Sometimes she wondered what she had done to deserve so much happiness, but she never took it for granted. Not once.
She had given birth to their darling boys two years earlier and the twins had been just six weeks old when the family had travelled to England, to say goodbye to her beloved nana.
Had the old lady been aware of the new life and continuation of her line?
Grace liked to think so—especially as Axis in particular had squalled so loudly, causing Mrs MacCormack to enquire whether he had colic. (He did.)
Afterwards they had returned to Kosmima and although occasionally Odysseus had wondered whether she might find island life too isolating, Grace loved it.
Grateful for her linguistic background, she was now fluent in the beautiful Greek language.
She was on the board of the tiny cottage hospital and elementary school, where she gave twice-weekly lessons in English to the children.
Inevitably, things would change as the boys grew older, but they would cross those particular bridges when they came to them.
Even Gouri, the black and white cat, had finally accepted her—jumping into her lap whenever she got the chance and becoming the fierce guardian of the twins—though it was always Odysseus who made her purr the loudest. It had been Evangelia who had suggested that the rescued feline might actually have been jealous of Grace.
And Grace had encouraged her husband to connect with his global scattering of godchildren which meant they now hosted weekends for friends he admitted to having neglected in the past. Their island villa often rang with the sound of laughter and, tomorrow, Kirsty and Sophia were coming to stay.
‘Grace?’
Her husband’s deep voice had disturbed her reverie and Grace stared up into his beloved face. ‘Neh, zoi mou?’
‘Why don’t you want any champagne?’
‘Am I such a lush that you need to ask?’ she joked.
‘No.’ He traced a thoughtful finger around the edge of her lips. ‘But a glass or two on Saturday night is something we usually both enjoy.’
She had been savouring the moment since she’d found out that afternoon, hugging it to herself like the most delicious secret, trying to work out the perfect time to break the news.
But he had guessed. She could tell from the light shining from his sapphire eyes.
The smile of pure delight on his lips. He knows me so well, she thought contentedly.
‘For the avoidance of doubt, yes, I’m pregnant,’ she whispered.
He didn’t speak for a moment and when he did, his words were tinged with pride and something else. ‘Kardia mou,’ he said huskily. ‘My heart. My one true love.’
And then effortlessly he picked her up—just as he had done one cold February night in Venice, when her eyes had glittered at him through a jewelled mask and melted the ice around his heart.