Page 41 of Constantine: Britain's Story: Part 2
“Whatever you want, buns, it’s yours.” He drops his mouth to mine once more, and I savor the way his plump lips linger against me. It feels like a promise of more.
When he finally pulls back, I say, “Hmm, I don’t know that buns isthe one, but I like it better than bubs or bug. Bug isdefinitely notthe one.”
“Noted,” he says, then takes my hand and leads me over to the food section of the marketplace. It only takes me a moment because I don’t bother to deliberate the choices, I just buy one box of every kind of cookie. The yia-yias all “ooh and ahh” over Matthias and myself while he pays and they package up the goods, and I just stand back watching Matthias as they do. He chats casually with the older women, flashing his dimple-filled smile at them, and then at me and I think to myself,he’s perfect. The nagging voice at the back of my mind asks,perfect for me, though?
Matthias manages to carry all the bags and purchase us both a baklava sundae, all while continuing to hold my hand.Pro: Does well with juggling full hands.I can’t help but picture him with a baby carrier in one arm, diaper bag slung over his shoulder, and a bottle in hand.
When we get back to our section, whatwereempty tables are now filled with people packed together like sardines. We squeeze through a boisterous group to our spot and Matthias pulls the chair out for me and places the sundaes down.
“Eat this, but I’m going to go get you some real food, okay?” He sets our bags under the table, then gently squeezes my shoulder before walking away. I dive into the baklava sundae eagerly. The warm honey drizzled on top melds with the cool cream perfectly, and when it hits my tongue, I close my eyes to savor it. For once, I’m grateful I don’t know anyone here, and am able to eat wholly uninterrupted.
“Britain?” The deep voice echoes to me and I throw my eyes wide open. An older version of the man I once knew stands before me. His hair is still mostly black, but gray now lines his temples. He’s still just as tan and ruggedly handsome as always, but with more wrinkles and a certain air of distinct wisdom and warmth about him. Maybe from age, or maybe it’s just that I know more about what he meant to my mother now.
“Mr. Scala,” I say to him and smile. He opens his arms for me, so I stand and lean into the embrace. It seems to go on and on, but I don’t move to break it and neither does he. It feels nice. It reminds me a bit of being with my Aunt Rose. Like connecting with him is like connecting with a piece of Georgia. There’s a little bit of her in all of us, I guess. He eventually pats my back and pulls away, revealing teary eyes.
“Really, you ought to call me Connie.”
I just smile, “From here on out, I promise I will.”
He looks me over once, and says, “You’ve hardly aged at all, my dear.” As I go to reply, Matthias moves in beside me, reaching across to set down a steaming plate piled high with food. I look at the plate with wide eyes, then look at Matthias.
He just shrugs and says, “you should be eating for two, babe,” then gently palms the side of my stomach again.
“Matt?” Constantine asks, looking at my belly where his son’s hand rests, then turns to look back at his son with the same wide eyed expression I just gave the food.
“Hi, dad.” Matthias leans over and the father and son embrace, warmly, but Constantine’s eyes never leave mine while they do. Matthias rejoins my side, resuming that possessive stance with one arm wrapped around me.
“Are you two…?” Constantine questions while motioning with his hand between the two of us.
“Yes, dad, we’re together.”What the fuck, Matthias?Literally all he had to change it to was ‘we’re seeing each other,’ and I wouldn’t have a problem. I put on a polite smile, though, remembering my manners.
Constantine comes to life before my eyes, before I can even process what Matthias just said. He claps his hands together as his smile beams, reaching from ear to ear. The teary eyes of a minute ago officially let loose a couple droplets, and they travel down his laugh lines landing on his linen shirt.
“I’m going to be a grandfather?” Constantine says lowly, but it’s not really a question. I feel a pit in my stomach grow, but I don’t have the heart to tell him straight out that Matthias isn’t the father. Seeing how he’s reacting, it feels cruel to kill the moment.
From across the tent, a group calls out for Constantine, but he puts a hand up to silence them. “Will you come have lunch with me, Britain?”
My natural inclination wants to decline, but I’d love to talk to him about Georgia, quite honestly, so I say, “Yes, I would really love that,” instead.
“Great, I’ll get your number from Matt, and we’ll get it arranged.” He smiles at me before bending down to give me a kiss on the cheek. As he pulls away, he says, “My god, how I’ve missed you.” I retain my smile, but the sentiment doesn’t make complete sense to me.Is he drunk? Did he just get me confused with Georgia?
Once I know he’s far enough away that he can’t hear me, I say to Matthias, “I literally just talked to you about this.”
“Sorry, babe. Can’t help it. I just want everyone to know what’s mine.”
Mine.The word replays in my mind, but I can’t quite grasp how I feel about it. I am beginning to feel like no matter my stance on the subject, Matthias is just going to keep declaring that I’m his to anyone who’ll listen. There’s something possessively sexy about it, but there’s something else I just can’t place.
“Let’s sit down and eat, okay? I can’t have the two of you going hungry.” He slides his palm over my abdomen, again, unable to keep his hands off me tonight.
I don’t get a chance to respond because it hits me then, like a cool breeze on a stifling hot night, and I feel his gaze instantly. I look around, catching his blue eyes looking at me like I’ve just stabbed him in the back. My breathing stills as my heart lurches forward in my chest. We stand there with locked eyes for what feels like forever until Gina slides next to Liam, whispering something in his ear, then trailing her hand down his arm, seductively.Intimately.
I instantly avert my gaze, feeling the burn of acid rising up my throat. I sit down quickly into my seat, but I just sit there,zoning out, staring into my plate of pilaf and stuffed grape leaves.
“Are you feeling okay, sweetheart?” Matthias asks.
“Um, I’m just not very hungry all of a sudden.” I try to keep my voice from trembling, but am unsuccessful.
“Okay, try to eat some of it, though, okay?” I nod silently, and pick up a forkful of rice. Putting it to my lips feels torturous and my fingers fumble to hold the fork steady.
