Page 82 of Slightly Married
I watched Kayla press the elevator button while staring at her phone screen. Whatever happened between us, I would be present, supportive, and openly loving in a way that didn’t come naturally to me.
“I booked the next appointment for December tenth,” Kayla said, breaking our usual silence with her first voluntary words in months.
“I’ll be there.”
It wasn’t much, but it felt like everything. Regardless of our broken relationship, we would both be there for our daughter. Always.
27
“I’m just saying,” Simone said through the phone speaker. “You didn’t need to waddle across an ocean just so baby-daddy could make his appointments more conveniently.”
I shifted in the backseat of the town car, trying to find a comfortable position. It was a nearly impossible task at thirty weeks pregnant. The baby chose that exact moment to deliver a swift kick to my ribcage.
“Ouch! Easy there, ballerina,” I muttered, rubbing the spot where a tiny foot or elbow had jabbed me.
“My niece kicking again?”
“Girl, yes. She’s practicing her audition for Stomp in there.” I adjusted my sundress over my rounded belly. “And for your information, I’m not waddling across an ocean for Konstantin’s convenience. This temporary move makes sense.”
“Mm-hmm.” The skepticism in her tone was unmistakable.
“It does!” I insisted, watching as we passed a row of bougainvilleas. “The appointments are every two weeks now,and they’ll be weekly soon. That’s a lot of transatlantic flights for one person.”
“A person who owns a plane,” Simone countered without missing a beat. “A plane that has made that exact trip religiously for five months without issue.”
I turned my attention to the Athenian landscape rolling outside the car window, the golden light making everything look like a postcard. My fingers traced small circles on my belly as I searched for a more convincing argument.
“Now that Thalassía is complete, I need to finalize the interior design. I can’t exactly do that from New York.”
“They could hire another decorator,” she replied, refusing to let me off the hook.
“Fine. I also want my daughter to be born in Greece. Is that so wrong?”
“Not wrong at all.” Simone’s voice gentled. “But you can just say you miss your husband, you know. No need for elaborate excuses.”
She was right. I couldn’t bring myself to file for divorce even when Konstantin voided our contract and Daddy gave ownership of Thalassía back to the Christakis’ free and clear. The shame and guilt Daddy felt for not having raised his son had quickly eroded the pride and joy of learning of Matthaios’ existence.
The contracts were broken, but our baby girl remained. I ran my hand over the curve of my belly, gathering my thoughts.
“I don’t know how to bridge the gap,” I confessed. “I’m the one who created this distance between us, and looking back now, I can see how I went overboard.”
“You had reasons,” Simone reminded me, loyal as always.
“I know,” I agreed, watching as we passed a family walking together, the father’s hand protectively at the small of the mother’s back. “But now we’ve lost months we can’t get back.He’s never felt her kick.” My voice cracked with emotion. “And the whole time, he’s respected my boundaries. Never pushed. Just... showed up for me the way I requested.”
Konstantin’s family had been reaching out non-stop for months. Domna sent weekly care packages with pregnancy remedies. Santo texted weekly. Even Aris—who I learned was Daddy’s godson—called him to check on me.
The car slowed as we approached the ornate iron gates of the Christakis estate. My heart picked up speed.
“We’re pulling up to the house now.” My hand smoothed my braids. “I should go.”
“But Kay?”
“Yeah?”
Her voice grew serious. “If you want your husband back, go for it. Mama’s passing showed us how short life can be.”
“What if I waited too long? What if he’s found someone else?”
