Page 38 of Constantine: Britain's Story: Part 2
“Thanks,” I say bashfully. I feel like Damian and I have turned a corner since yesterday. We’re more relaxed and comfortable, sort of like we always have been, just now there’s no sex, matrimony, or sharing of beds. The doorbell rings, so I excuse myself as I pass Damian and head downstairs.
I open the door to Matthias looking like the Greek god he is.
“Hi.”
“Hi, darling.” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, then trails a thumb down my cheek. He gives me a once over, up and down, before his dimpled smile breaks out on his face. “You are so gorgeous, my love.” My cheeks heat and my heart skips a beat. He’s never called methatbefore.
“Thank you. You,” I motion up and down his body, “look amazing, too.” His linen shirt is only buttoned halfway up, revealing tan skin and defined pectorals with a dusting of chest hair. “Do you want to come in, or do we need to get going?” I ask.
“We should probably get going.”
“Right.” I take a step away from the door to call out to the girls. “I’m leaving, family!” Caroline and Elodie come out from the great room for a quick hug, while Damian and Jess hang back and wave from afar, just like I instructed them to.
Matthias slips his hand into mine and I close the door. We walk the short distance to his SUV, but once we get there he pulls me in for a kiss. He threads his hands into my hair, holding the back of my head tenderly, and puts his mouth to mine. He tastes minty and smells like smokey pines. My inner thighs start to burn right as he releases me slowly.
“Do you have any idea how hard it was not to come over last night?” He whispers against my cheekbone. I just bite my lip and look up into his eyes. The dark chocolate eyes I used to drown in, roam all over me, making me buzz with suspense. He removes his hands from my head and opens the door, though. “Princess,” he says, then gestures with his hand for me to enter. I just laugh.That’s another new one.
I buckle up and watch him as he gets up into the driver’s seat. He pushes the sleeves of his linen shirt up, showing off his toned and tan forearms. His black hair is slicked back, but long enough it waves and curls slightly at the back of his shirt. He looks fucking edible, I could eat him.Jesus, am I hormonal?I went from no sex for months to now desperately craving it. He smiles in my direction, catching me staring at him and I let out a nervous laugh.
We pull out of my drive and head out to the main highway, and I can’t help the feeling of familiarity that pulses through me. Driving through the hills to the Greek Fest, it’s literally just like old times. Except now I’m a divorced, mom of two who’s pregnant with another guy’s baby.I wonder what he sees in me, honestly.
“What are you thinking about?” He asks.
“Oh, um…just, did you ever think we’d be doingthisalmost 20 years later?” He extends his hand across the center console to thread his fingers with mine before replying.
“Yes, I did.” He squeezes my hand gently and I squeeze back before looking out the window at the golden grasses swaying in the evening breeze and I wonder,if I’d never left, would we still be doing this?
“What are you most looking forward to tonight?” He asks.
“Definitely the pilaf and the baklava.” My answer is quick and automatic, and of course it’s food.
He laughs. “Ouch, I didn’t even make the list, babe,” he says, making me laugh, too, as warmth fills my chest.
“I amalsolooking forward to spending tonight with you,” I try to soothe his ego, but I also realize the words are true. I am looking forward to it.
“That’s alright, sweetheart. I know how you feel about food. I’ll always be number two in that regard.” I laugh again. “But just so you know, you aren’t number one on my list.”
“Aha! See!” I declare.
“You’re theonlyone, babe. It’s just you.” He turns and gives me his breathtaking smile, and I know no matter what decision I make after tonight, it’s going to be hard as hell to do it.
The Greek Fest is just getting underway by the time we arrive. Luckily, since the MS Group is one of the largest sponsors, we’re able to park in the vendor section saving us a 15-minute walk. Due to the early hour, it’s still sweltering out, so that small reprieve feels like a godsend right now.
To be honest, I was surprised when Matthias said we were going at 5:00. The last time we were here, on our first date, we didn’t arrive until almost 8:00, just as the dancing and party really started. I think he’s taking my tough nights into consideration, which I can absolutely appreciate.
Matthias comes around and opens my door, giving me a hand. As he does he says, “Babycakes,” and I can’t help but laugh.
“Okay, what’s with the nicknames?” I ask him.
I could swear a slight blush creeps up his cheeks, but he says, “Just trying to see what sticks, that’s all.”
“Uh huh, okay,” is all I say. We start walking towards the entrance and he slips an arm around my waist. There’s something about the gesture that feels possessive and I can’t decide if I like it or not.
At the entry gate is a table with several older Greek women handing out wristbands, and one drop-dead gorgeous woman checking I.D.’s. The gorgeous woman with long black hair, tan skin, and an amazing body nods at Matthias as we approach.
“Hi, cuz,” she says to him before looking me over with a discerning glare.
“Gina, this is Britain, my girlfriend. Britain, this is my cousin, Gina.”What the fuck? Girlfriend? That’s, uh, yeah, news to me.My cheeks turn crimson and my facial expression shifts, drawing an arched eyebrow in response from Gina. I work to school it into something more polite, then extend my hand to the woman.
