Page 91 of Slightly Married
I paused, struggling to find the right words. “Expressing my feelings has never come easily to me.”
My thumb traced circles on her palm. “But watching you bring our daughter into the world, I realized how foolish I’ve been. You’re the blood in my veins, the rhythm of my heart, the breath in my lungs.”
Kayla’s face lit up through her tears, and she reached up to touch my face with trembling fingers. “K, I’ve been waiting to hear you say those words for so long.” Her eyes danced with a mixture of joy and wonder. “I love you too. I wasted so much time being angry.” She moved closer. “We could have had these months together.”
“Shhh.” I leaned forward, pressing my lips to hers. “Nothing was wasted. On the last day of my life, I will look back on today and count it among my greatest blessings—the day I became a father and your husband in the truest sense of the word.”
“I missed you so much, K.” Her words were a confession against my lips. “I need all of you.”
From the bassinet came a soft, questioning sound, drawing our attention like a magnetic force.
“I want to name her Thalia Jeanette,” Kayla said softly, her gaze drifting to our daughter. “Jeanette was my mother’s name.” Her voice wavered. “And Thalia... in honor of Theo.”
My heart swelled at her thoughtfulness. “Thalia.”
I looked down at our daughter, her tiny features peaceful in sleep. Theo had never had the chance to have a family of his own,but now a part of him would live on in this perfect being we’d created.
“You would honor him this way?”
“He gave up his life for yours.” She squeezed my fingers. “Our daughter should know about the people who shaped your life, who made you the man I fell in love with.”
I brought her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss against her knuckles as I struggled to compose myself. “It’s perfect,” I said. “Our little TJ.”
“TJ,” Kayla repeated, testing the nickname. Her smile was radiant. “I love it.”
“My little girl. My family. I will always, always put you and our daughter first,” I vowed.
She reached up, curling her hand around the nape of my neck, and drew my face to hers. “I believe you,” she whispered against my lips.
“If anyone knows how to throw a party, it’s the Greeks,” I whispered to Simone as I prepared to join the baptismal procession about to enter Saint Sophia’s Cathedral.
The ancient church was transformed into a floral wonderland under my direction. White roses and baby’s breath cascaded from every pillar, while gold ribbon accents caught the light from hundreds of candles.
“You certainly didn’t hold back,” Simone replied, adjusting the delicate flower crown on my head as we stood in the vestibule. “This makes my sweet sixteen look like a backyard barbecue.”
“It’s not every day my daughter gets baptized,” I replied, smoothing down my cream-colored dress. I’d chosen the flowing design for elegance, and to hide the remnants of pregnancy.
I took my place beside Konstantin at the front of the procession, while Santo carried TJ just behind us. My heart swelled with pride as we began our walk down the center aisle. All eyes were on our daughter, resplendent in her christeninggown. The delicate lace had been restored by hand, and I’d added a tiny satin ribbon in pale pink.
Santo carried her with surprising confidence. As godfather, he’d taken his responsibilities with unexpected seriousness. Tia walked beside him as godmother, radiant in a fuchsia dress.
She’d returned to Greece specifically for the occasion. When she caught my eye, she winked.
Across the church, my father shifted uncomfortably in the front pew, his gaze steadfastly avoiding Irida, who sat five people away from him. The tension between them was like static electricity before a storm.
“Daddy looks like he’d rather be anywhere else,” I whispered to Konstantin as we reached the front and took our places.
“Can you blame him?” he murmured back. “He left her to raise their son alone without a backward glance. If I were in his shoes, I would be embarrassed.”
“At least they’re being civil,” I replied. “For TJ’s sake.”
From the corner of my eye, I caught Matthaios glaring across the church, his jaw clenched so tight I worried for his dental work. I followed his gaze to where Simone had taken her seat next to Yiorgos. Matthaios had been throwing daggers with his eyes since they’d walked in together, but thankfully kept his distance.
The priest stepped forward, his ornate robes gleaming in the candlelight, and the ceremony began. Despite my fears that TJ might scream when immersed in the holy water, she merely looked surprised as she was lifted from the font, water streaming from her curls.
I hadn’t expected to be so emotional, but watching Santo and Tia make their promises, hearing the ancient words spoken over my daughter, the tears came unbidden. Konstantin’s arm slid around my waist.
“She’s officially Thalia Jeanette Christakis,” he whispered against my hair.
