I turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. He stood in the archway between the dining room and the kitchen.
“How are you feeling? The babies, are you well?”
“Almost two weeks of radio silence, and suddenly you’re worried about my health?”
“I deserved that.” He took a step into the kitchen. “There was accident at one of our factories in Thessaloniki. No one was seriously injured, but it required my immediate attention. And then there were matters with the business I needed to resolve in Athens before I could come here. To you.” He gestured back toward the dining room. “Sit, please. We should speak, yes?”
“About?” I asked
“About us. The future.” His gaze dropped to my belly, then rose to meet my eyes. “Our children, they deserve married parents.”
I groaned, brushing past him to return to the dining room, and lowered myself onto a chair with the grace of a beached whale. Everything hurt these days.
“You keep saying our children deserve married parents. Maybe. But they also deserve parents who listen to each other. Maybe start there before you start planning vows.”
“I am listening and have made some arrangements.” He pulled out the chair beside mine. “My brothers, they will handle day-to-day operations at Olympus Motors. I will work remotely and travel to Greece as needed. But my priority, it is here. With you.”
“Aris…”
“Whether you agree to marry me today, tomorrow, or next month,” he continued, “I am staying. These are my children, Dede. I will not be absent father. And you, you will become my wife.”
My throat tightened. “Tia and Santo don’t even know about us yet. You can’t just upend your entire life.”
“I already have.” He gestured toward the entryway where his luggage sat.
“Before you even knew if I’d talk to you?”
“Yes.”
I wanted to tell him he shouldn’t move across the world for a woman who won’t marry him. But a part of me was thrilled that he’d come and he’d chosen us.
“Well,” I said finally, “I suppose that brings us to the next question. Where do you plan to live?”
“I was hoping you might have space in your bed, yes?”
“I don’t.”
“You are pregnant, and we will be married. It is logical we share a bed.”
The babies moved, and I took his hand and placed it where they were staging their gymnastics routine. They both tumbled and kicked.
His eyes widened as he felt the movement. Our gazes locked, and we shared a smile.
“You can stay, but we sleep separately,” I said firmly. “And don’t think that just because I allow you to stay here that I’ll marry you.”
“I respect your terms, yes.” He remained kneeling beside my chair. “But I will do everything in my power to convince you to marry me.”
Before I could respond, his mouth covered mine. The kiss was devoid of urgency, like everything else about this man. His lips pressed and shifted against mine with expertise.
My hand, which should have been shoving against his chest, curled into his shirt instead. The kiss deepened, and I let it, let him coax my mouth open.
The babies chose that exact moment to somersault, making me gasp against his mouth. Aris pulled back just enough to smile.
“They approve,” he whispered.
“They just hungry,” I retorted, using his shoulder to lever myself back. “Kissing wasn’t part of our arrangement.”
“If I recall, your terms, they specified separate sleeping arrangements and nothing about kissing.”
