I turned back to the window, forcing my expression into neutrality while my body raged. Pregnant? How was that possible?
She told me she was sterile. It’s why we never—
A knock interrupted my spiraling thoughts. The wedding coordinator’s anxious face appeared. “Five minutes, gentlemen. Everyone is seated.”
The mood shifted instantly. We straightened bow ties and adjusted jackets, the previous argument momentarily forgotten in the rush of ceremony.
I moved to stand beside Chrysanthos, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “Are you ready?”
“I’ve been ready since the day I proposed.”
Pride swelled in my chest.
We filed down the stone staircase, me leading as best man, followed by my brothers and cousin. The Swiss castle’s great hall was festooned with white roses and evergreen boughs, a winter wonderland perfectly suited to a Christmas Eve ceremony. Exactly as Tia had envisioned it.
I took my position beside Chrysanthos at the altar as Bach’s “Air on the G String” began. The doors at the end of the hall swung open, revealing the bridal party in midnight-blue gowns.
When Dede finally appeared in the doorway, escorting her daughter down the aisle, my breath held. She was radiant in champagne silk, the fabric draping elegantly over fuller and more pronounced curves.
Beautiful.
Pregnant.
A jarring stab of jealousy restricted my breathing. The thought of Dede carrying her ex-husband’s child left an unexpectedly bitter taste.
As the officiant began speaking, our eyes met. That momentary connection carried enough force to make me look away first. I could not bear to hold her gaze and allow her to see what her choice had done to me.
I refocused on the ceremony with effort. Today was about Chrysanthos, not the emptiness I’d experienced since her departure. Not about the months of silence broken only by three brief calls about our children. Not about the nights I’d reached for her in my sleep, only to wake up alone.
Every word the officiant spoke about love, commitment, and partnership was a painful reminder of what I would never have. Chrysanthos slipped the ring onto Tia’s finger with the deep solemnity the act commanded, and my son’s face transformed with joy as he kissed his bride.
The reception that followed was an exercise in avoidance. We moved through our respective duties, ensuring our paths crossed only when absolutely necessary.
I made my toast, danced with relatives, and accepted congratulations on behalf of my son. By the time the newlyweds secretly departed, my jaw ached from maintaining the façade of celebration while my mind circled endlessly around one question.
How had I lost her so completely?
I just needed to endure a little longer. Soon I could retreat from this situation entirely. Soon I could stop watching her move through the room as if she hadn’t spent two months in my bed, in my life, under my skin.
Then I noticed her speaking with Tia’s father. I could read the tension in her shoulders, the tightness around her mouth. She didn’t seem happy in his company, and something protective flared in my chest.
I approached directly, cutting through the remaining guests without hesitation. “Excuse me, Deanna.” My voice was even. “I need to speak with you regarding our children, yes?”
Kevin straightened, meeting my gaze. “Whatever you need to discuss with Dee, I should be part of it. I’m Tia’s father.”
The presumption in his tone ignited my anger. This man had betrayed Dede while their daughter battled cancer, then compounded his failures by relocating and abdicating his paternal responsibilities.
“I was under the impression Tia and Deanna, they managed without you for years. And you are only here because your mother, she asked it.”
His expression shifted from confidence to discomfort. It was a small but satisfying victory.
“I was about to retire for the evening,” Dede interjected. “You can walk with me, Mr. Christakis.”
I followed without hesitation. My heart hammered against my ribs with each step, my mind cycling through everything I wanted to say, every accusation and question I had no right to voice.
When she unlocked her door, I followed her into the room and closed the door behind us. She turned to face me, and the reality of being alone with her again was suddenly, utterly overwhelming.
I dispensed with pleasantries. “This happened when?” I demanded, gesturing toward her abdomen.
