“No! Kay, I can’t do that! You can’t really ask me to—”
Kay’s eyes had darkened. “So much for all these years you’ve told me how grateful you were I took you out of that foster home.”
“Of course I’m grateful! But—”
“Out of a situation you’d created.”
“I didn’t. I didn’t!”
“Of course you did,” Kay had said coldly. “Flirting with that man. Hanging all over him.”
“I never did! I was just a kid. He—he hurt me, Kay!”
“Spare me the sob story,” Kay had snapped. “What counts is that I was your lifeline and now, when I ask you to be mine, you look at me as if I’m the devil incarnate and you whimper ‘no, I can’t!’ Is that your idea of how to repay a debt?”
“Kay. Please. Listen to me. What you’re asking—”
“What I’m asking for is what you owe me, Ivy. You’re always saying I saved your life. Well, now you owe me mine.”
It had gone on for hours, Kay talking about what she’d done for Ivy, how Ivy owed her everything, Ivy saying no, no—
In the end, she’d finally given in even though she knew it was wrong, knew she was taking the first step toward breaking her own heart, knew she could not imagine how she would ever give up a baby conceived with a sperm-filled condom, with a syringe, both conveniently tucked inside a little box her stepsister had produced…
“Glyka mou?”
Ivy looked up. Damian smiled as he walked toward her. He was shirtless, barefoot; he wore only denim shorts. His jaw was stubbled because today was Saturday and he hadn’t shaved…
Her heart rose into her throat.
How she loved him!
And how cruelly she was deceiving him.
She wore his ring now—a diamond so magnificent it made her breath catch just to look at it. A tiny gold shield that bore his family crest—a lance, a shield and, she now knew, an ancient Minoan bull—dangled from a delicate chain around her neck. Their wedding day was only a week away—and she was still living a lie.
Tears welled in her eyes just as Damian reached her.
“Hey,” he said, taking her in his arms, “sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
Everything, she thought, everything was wrong! What would he think of her when he knew exactly why she’d been afraid of sex? When he knew the truth about the baby?
“Ivy? Kardia mou, tell me what makes you weep.”
She couldn’t do it. Not yet.
“I’m just—I’m happy, that’s all,” she whispered, burying her face against his shoulder.
Damian held her close, kissing her hair, her temple, rocking her gently against him…
Aware, in every fiber of his being, she was not telling him the truth.
Yes, his Ivy was happy. He knew it because he was happy, too, though “happy” was far too small a word for what he felt.
He was ecstatic.
Love, commitment, the Big M word had always seemed meant for others. He was not ready to settle down and have children, or even tie himself to one woman.
Then Ivy came along, and all of that changed.