In this respect, Darius thought, the two of them were very different.
“And I had a real home,” she whispered.
Memories of that beautiful gray stone manor on the edge of the sea, surrounded by roses, came to his mind. He said gruffly, “You still miss Fairholme after all this time?”
She gave him a sad smile. “I know it’s gone for good. But I still dream about it. My mother was born there. Four generations of my family.”
“What happened to it?”
She looked down at her plate. “A tech billionaire bought it at a cut-rate price. I heard he changed everything, added zebra-print shag carpeting and neon lights, and turned the nursery into his own private disco. Of course that was his right. But he wouldn’t let me take a picture of my great-grandmother’s fresco before he destroyed it with his sandblaster.”
A low growl came from Darius’s throat. He remembered the nursery fresco, a charming monstrosity picturing a sad-eyed little goose girl leading ducks and geese through what looked like a Bavarian village. Not his cup of tea, but it was part of the house’s history. “I’m sorry.”
She looked up with a bright, fake smile. “It’s fine. Of course it couldn’t last. Good things never do.”
“Neither do bad things,” he said quietly. “Nothing lasts, good or bad.”
“I guess you’re right.” She wrapped her arms around her pregnant belly. “But I don’t want a big society wedding, Darius. I think I’d just like you and me, and our closest family and friends. I don’t need ten bridesmaids. I just want one.”
“An old friend?”
She smiled. “A new one. Belle Langtry. A waitress at the diner. How about you? Who would you choose as your best man?”
“Ángel Velazquez.”
“Ángel?”
“It’s a nickname. His real first name is Santiago, but he hates it, because he was named after a man who refused to recognize him as his son.”
“How awful!”
Darius shrugged. “I call him by his last name. Velazquez hates weddings. He recently had to be the best man for a friend of ours, Kassius Black. He complained for months. All that tender love gave him a headache, he said.”
Letty was looking at him in dismay. “And you want him at our wedding?”
“He needs a little torture. When you meet him you’ll see what I mean. Completely arrogant, always sure he’s right.”
“Hard to imagine,” she said drily.
“So Velazquez. And my extended family.”
Her eyes brightened. “Your family?”
“My great-aunt, Theia Ioanna, who lives in Athens. Assorted uncles, aunts and cousins, and the rest of my village on Heraklios, the island I’m from.”
“Could we bring them all over from Greece? And of course we’ll have my father...”
Darius stiffened. “No.”
“No?” She frowned. “We could get married on Heraklios, if they can’t travel. I’ve always wanted to visit the Greek islands...”
“I mean your father. He’s not invited.”
“Of course he’s invited. He’s my father. He’ll walk me down the aisle. I know you don’t like him, but he’s my only family.”
“Letty, I thought you understood.” His jaw was taut, his voice low and cold. “I don’t want you, or our baby, within ten feet of that man ever again.”
“What?”