“Hush now,” he said softly, shushing Yiorgos. “Sssh, sssh, sssh.”
“Love or lust,” Aeliana repeated.
He glared at her over his shoulder. “I’m trying to soothe your son.”
“The truth will calm him.”
“I don’t know,” he answered. The baby screamed louder, tears slicking down his face like a dam had burst open behind his eyelids. “I don’t know anything about him, how can I love him?”
Yiorgos gulped a breath of air. His chin quivered and he fought his arm out of the swaddle.
“Do you love your nephew?” she asked, coming out of the bed and joining him near the window.
“Of course,” he answered quickly, shifting the baby in his arms. “How could I not?”
“How could you not,” Aeliana repeated, less a question.
“It’s different,” he protested.
“You know nothing of him,” she said. “He knows nothing of himself.”
“Are you talking about Yiorgos or Andy?” he asked.
“You tell me.”
Yiorgos quieted, sniffling and snorting, then his eyes closed and he settled in Leonidas’s arms. He stared down at the tiny life his sister had made, then turned and passed him back into her arms. He didn’t fuss through the transfer, and Aeliana padded over to a cushioned rocking chair in the corner of the room. She collapsed into it, and Leonidas rested against the windowsill, staring out into the garden.
“Do you think it’s dirty there?” she asked, tucking her son’s stray arm back into the swaddle.
Leonidas didn’t need to ask wheretherewas. His sister was talking about America. Talking about Colorado. Talking about Cherry Creek.
“Not there,” he answered. “Maybe in the cities, but it’s small where he’s at.”
“How do you know that?” His sister raised a brow.
“He told me.” Leonidas shrugged, then ground his toes into the carpet. “I googled it.”
“Of course you did. You had to find the closest airport.”
“Denver,” he grumbled.
“And when is your flight?”
He pursed his lips and turned his head toward her. She wasn’t even looking at him, her attention pointed down toward the bundle in her arms. The door to the bedroom opened and Alexandros returned, going straight to Aeliana and kneeling by her side. He kissed her hand and stared up at her adoringly.
Leonidas saw so much in that flash. He saw the way his sister loved the man at her feet, and he remembered for a sharp and painful moment what it felt like to be the man at someone’s feet. The man who was looked at the way his sister looked at her husband, but the way Andy had looked at him hadn’t been love. It couldn’t have been. Even though Aeliana maintained itcouldhave been and itmaybewas.
She didn’t know.
But neither did he.
But he wanted it.
“Three days,” he answered, frowning.
“You should look happier about that.” She threaded her fingers through her husband’s hair and smiled down at him.
“I’m…nervous.”
