I might have argued further, but her fingers found me beneath the water, guiding me to her entrance. As I pushed into the warm, tight heat of her body, I decided the rest could wait.
5
“Young love, it is not necessarily foolish love.” The evening air wrapped around us as we strolled through the narrow Athenian streets toward the restaurant. “Marriage at twenty-two or forty-two, the challenges, they remain the same,” Aris continued.
On the drive here, Aris had told me about his son’s engagement. Apparently, the boy had dropped to one knee at his racing event in Belgium and proposed to his girlfriend.
The couple was in Tia’s age group. Lord, I couldn’t imagine my baby girl getting married this young.
I felt a twinge of guilt as I thought of my daughter. I’d come to Greece to be within reach if Tia needed me, but instead, I’d become completely wrapped up in Aris, trying to get as much time with him as possible before my inevitable departure.
The mornings he stayed with me had become my favorite part of each day. We often woke up before dawn to run along the beach together.
We’d island-hopped to nearly every part of Greece and made love on every single one.
I’d had some close calls with Tia, though. Six weeks into this trip, she’d called me in tears, saying she was coming home to Montrose. My heart had nearly stopped while I dispensed calm, motherly advice. Thank God whatever work crisis she’d faced resolved itself, and she decided to stay in Athens.
Then there was the night Greg had taken me to a nearby bar. I’d spotted Tia across the room and bolted without explanation.
Greg texted later, confused about why I’d left, mentioning he’d met a young woman who looked like me. It was too close for comfort.
And still, here I was, risking everything for two more weeks with Aris instead of heading back to Montrose.
“That’s a load of bullshit,” I countered, not bothering to soften my language. “When you’re young, you haven’t figured out who you are yet. How can you possibly choose the right partner when you don’t know yourself?”
“Perhaps you discover yourselves together,” he suggested, his voice carrying that smooth accent that did things to my body. “My son, he has been more focused since his fiancée entered his life, and she has grown quite backbone since they began dating. She saved his life once already. Their engagement, it might be impulsive, but I believe they have what it takes to make it work.”
“I was nineteen when I married my daughter’s father,” I said, the memory still carrying a sting after all these years. “I was certain we were soulmates, destined to grow old together. That’s why I agreed when he suggested we get married to ‘get it over with.’”
“He said that?” Aris’s eyebrows shot up.
I appreciated how he seemed interested rather than waiting for his turn to talk.
“His exact words. Should’ve been my first damn clue.” I sidestepped a cluster of people stopped in the middle of the sidewalk with their phones. “We grew in completely different directions. I wanted to focus on our daughter and building something for our future, and he decided my best friend was who he wanted.”
Aris considered this as we approached the restaurant, its stone facade glowing softly against the deepening twilight. “Perhaps the problem was not your age but marrying someone with incompatible values.”
“Those values formed as we matured,” I explained, stopping outside the entrance. “That’s my point. When you’re young, you’re still becoming the person you’ll be. I changed. He changed. If we’d met at thirty-five instead of seventeen, we would have recognized our incompatibility immediately.”
“Or never met at all.” Aris’s voice softened as he placed his hand at the small of my back, opening the door with his other. “Life, it rarely offers second chances, Dede. My son, he loves this young woman. Should he delay happiness because of theoretical concerns?”
I stepped into the restaurant, immediately enveloped by soft lighting and the quiet hum of conversation. The place screamed elegance—Aris’s choice, of course.
“I’m just saying there’s wisdom in patience,” I replied, watching the maître d’ practically trip over himself to greet Aris by name. “But I hope they prove me wrong. I hope they’re the exception.”
A man approached us before we could be seated, his stride purposeful. The family resemblance to Aris was unmistakable. His eyes, darker than Aris’s, zeroed in on me immediately.
“Aris,” he said, his voice carrying the same rich timbre as Aris’s. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”
“Kostas,” Aris acknowledged, his posture shifting subtly. “This is Dede. She is visiting Greece.” Aris’ eyes met mine. “Dede, my brother, Kostas.”
I extended my hand and flashed my best smile. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” he replied.
I maintained my composure while Kostas switched to Greek, gesturing toward another table where a small group sat. I couldn’t understand the words, but I suspected he was inviting us to join them.
Aris glanced at me before responding in Greek. The exchange lasted only moments before Kostas nodded at me with a smile, then walked away.
