Page 12 of Slightly Married
“Good luck, brother. You’re going to need it,” Aris’ voice came through the forgotten phone, followed by both his and Dimi’s mirth before the line went dead.
Stella stepped into the suite and set her bag down carefully before turning to me with a smile. “I made your favorite moussaka before I left,” she said as she approached me. “It’s in the freezer at home, ready for when we get back.” Her fingerslightly traced the edge of my towel. “I know how exhausting these trips can be for you.”
“Stella, I told you this was a business trip,” I attempted to admonish her as she stepped closer. “I need to focus without distractions.”
“I’m never a distraction,” she countered softly while her fingers reached toward my chest. I caught her hand before it made contact.
“We need to talk,” I said, stepping back to establish an appropriate distance between us. I’d intended to have this conversation when I returned to Greece, but addressing it now would be better.
She frowned. “That sounds serious.”
“It is.” I gestured toward the sitting area of the hotel suite. “Please sit.”
Once we were seated across from each other, I began with the facts. “An opportunity to reclaim Thalassía has presented itself, and I intend to pursue it.”
“What opportunity?” Wariness crept into her voice.
“The current owner is willing to return the island to my family under specific conditions.” I paused, ensuring my tone remained even. “He wants me to marry his daughter.”
Her expression froze. “What?”
“Her name is Kayla.” Speaking it aloud felt strange. “It will be a strictly business arrangement with clear terms and a deadline.”
“What about us?” Confusion clouded her features as she leaned forward. “Our wedding?”
I spent the remainder of the evening explaining the complexities of the situation, carefully addressing each of her concerns. Though her initial shock was evident, I assured her my marriage to Kayla wouldn’t change our plans.
By the time she fell asleep, her anxieties had eased.
5
“In the sight of God and these witnesses,” intoned the priest, “I pronounce you husband and wife.”
The words echoed hollowly in the near-empty church, so different from the packed cathedral where Josh and I had exchanged vows. Then, every pew had been filled with smiling faces.
Now, the vast emptiness of the space seemed to emphasize the transactional nature of this union. No one cried happy tears or whispered about how perfect Konstantin and I looked together.
No one snapped candid photos or threw petals. This wasn’t a celebration. It was a business merger with religious trappings.
Simone, Lauren, and my father sat together on my side of the aisle, while Matt and Konstantin’s assistant Andreas remained two rows back on Konstantin’s side. Before the ceremony, I’d asked the priest to omit the “kiss the bride” portion.
With Josh, our first kiss as husband and wife had lasted almost a full minute. We’d practiced for days in our apartment.That kiss had felt like a promise, the beginning of something precious.
I stood beside my new husband in a cream silk slip dress, its high slit elegant yet understated. The daffodils and black-eyed Susans in my hands offered a cheerful contrast to the solemnity of the occasion. A few matching blooms were nestled among my braids.
My first bridal bouquet had been an elaborate cascade of white orchids and roses that took three consultations. I’d obsessed over every bloom, every ribbon, every pearl pin. This morning, I’d simply stopped at a corner florist on the way to the church, selecting the flowers that caught my eye.
Konstantin stood beside me, his tall frame distinguished in his perfectly tailored tux. My eyes kept finding their way to him, drawn to how the formal wear highlighted his powerful shoulders and confident stance.
I felt the weight of the diamond pendant at my throat, a gift from my father for the occasion. How different this felt from the princess gown and cathedral train of my first wedding.
I looked down at my left hand, now weighted by the platinum and diamond band. The exquisite ring featured an intricate, flowing design that reminded me of water. Surprisingly, it was exactly what I would have chosen for myself.
At the priest’s whispered cue, we exited onto stone steps where the setting sun greeted us. Lauren reached me first, tears already streaming down her face.
“Don’t you dare forget me,” she whispered, clutching me tight. “I expect weekly updates about everything.”
“As if I could forget my favorite drama queen,” I laughed. “You’re visiting me as soon as I’m settled.”
