“I never wanted you to feel what I felt that day, baby. The idea that you think these babies are replacing you—” Her voice cracked. She pressed her palm flat against her thigh. “You are irreplaceable to me. Always have been, always will be. These twins aren’t your replacement. They’re your siblings. And you’re still my first baby. The one who made me a mother. The one I’d move heaven and earth for.”
Tia’s composure shattered. “I didn’t know.”
“Because I didn’t want to burden you with it. I never wanted you to question whether you were wanted.” Dede shifted forward on the loveseat, and I stood immediately, offering my hand.
She took it, gripping firmly as she pushed herself up. Once steady, she crossed the small distance to Tia and pulled her daughter into her arms with fierce tenderness. “But I’m telling you now so you understand nothing will ever change my love for you.”
Tia broke. The sound she made was small and choked, muffled against her mother’s shoulder, and her arms came up to wrap around Dede.
Chrysanthos rose from the sofa but remained a step back as he watched his wife seek comfort from her mother.
When they finally separated, both wiped their faces with the backs of their hands in an identical gesture. The hostility was gone.
“It’s a lot to process,” Tia said quietly. “I’m going to lie down.”
She left without looking back. Chrysanthos made a move to follow Tia, but I stopped him with a gesture. “A word in private, son?”
“I’ll give you two some space,” Dede said, and left before either of us could respond.
Once the sound of Dede’s footsteps faded, I switched to Greek. “Are we alright?”
Chrysanthos ran his fingers through his hair and whistled low. “Honestly? I thought you had stopped having sex at your age.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’m forty-four, not eighty-four. The Greeks invented sex, you know. We don’t retire from it at forty.”
The notion that my son considered me too aged for physical intimacy was both amusing and vaguely insulting. Though at his age, I’d held similar misconceptions about my parents until an unfortunate incident in the study.
He huffed a reluctant laugh, then sobered. “Tia thought Kevin had gotten her mom pregnant. She’s been a wreck for months, thinking her parents were back together.” He met my eyes. “Though I don’t know if you being the father is better or worse for Tia.”
I considered this for a moment. “Better, I would think. At least I have no intention of disappointing Dede or abandoning my children.” I fixed him with a direct look. “I understand this situation is unconventional, but I love Dede and she will become my wife.”
“I never thought I’d see you like this. Talking about love so openly.”
“Since your mother, I haven’t been in love.” I paused. “Dede changed that.”
“Tia will come around,” he said finally. “She just needs time to adjust to all of this. Finding out we’ll be sharing siblings isn’t exactly... normal.”
“Very little about this situation has been normal,” I acknowledged. “But I expect you to support your wife while also respecting my relationship with Dede. Can you manage that balance?”
“I can,” he said. “But fair warning, Tia is stubborn. Don’t expect this to be resolved by morning.”
“I never expect anything worthwhile to come easily,” I replied. “That’s why I value it when it arrives.”
Chrysanthos nodded, a hint of understanding in his eyes. He seemed to be seeing me not just as his father, but as a man capable of the same vulnerabilities he faced.
After a moment of silence, I felt compelled to address what had been weighing on me since learning of Dede’s pregnancy. “I know I wasn’t the greatest father. I know there were times when I fell short. Perhaps I was too strict, but that was only because I was trying to balance the excessive leniency you receivedfrom your grandparents, my aunt and brothers. They indulged you because you didn’t have a mother, but I worried you’d be spoiled.” I looked at him directly. “I intend to do better with Yianna and your brother.”
“You weren’t a bad father,” he said, his usual charm replaced by unexpected sincerity. “Whenever I needed you, you were always there. Always.”
That simple acknowledgment addressed something fundamental, releasing a tension I’d carried for years. It meant everything to know my son recognized the constancy of my devotion to him.
“One more thing,” I said, studying his head. “I don’t like the dark hair. It makes you look too much like me, and not enough like your mother.”
He huffed a laugh. “It washes out in a few days.”
“Good.” I pulled him into a brief, awkward embrace—our first in perhaps fifteen years...
When I released him, his eyes were suspiciously bright, but he cleared his throat and said gruffly, “I should check on Tia.”
