Page 45 of Husband for the Holidays

This growing attachment to her grated most of all, warning him that he was developing an Achilles’ heel.

If he were honest with himself, he would admit that she’d always been one. It was only widening now that he was spending time with her, encompassing more and more of him as he allowed her to get closer.

Damn it, he’d forgotten to ask if she needed money.

He tapped his pocket to ensure he had his phone and wallet as he rose to stand, but there she was, walking toward him. If she had purchased something, it was in the shoulder bag she had brought with her.

“Cream, one sugar,” he said, offering the take-out cup of coffee he’d ordered for her.

“Thank you.” She sipped and closed her eyes. “Mmm... Greek coffee. My one true love.”

Not me?

The whimsical words hovered on his tongue. He bit them back, but wondered where the urge to say them had come from. He wasn’t jealous of coffee. Was he?

“Filomena said there’s a shop with a green awning that would have decorations. I think I saw it when I passed that alley back there.”

They shopped for the next hour, picking out garlands and ornaments and a centerpiece for the table, then ordered sweet and savory treats from the bakery to be delivered the next day. After leaving their purchases in the Jeep, they went into a nearby taverna where they sat by a window overlooking the wharf.

“We should walk out there after dinner. I always loved seeing the boats decorated with lights.” Eloise cupped her hands around thetsikoudia-spiked toddy she’d ordered and smiled across the steam that rose from the mug. “Ilias would buy cookies and we’d eat them on the beach while we watched boats go by. It was one of our Christmas traditions. Thank you for today. This is the first year without him that I’ve felt the least bit interested in celebrating.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, mildly amused that she was expressing more gratitude over glass ornaments and strings of lights than she had for the designer clothes or sapphire earrings he’d given her.

It had been a pleasant afternoon, though. More enjoyable that he would have expected. He put his mellow mood down to the warmed shot of raki with honey, cinnamon and clove he was nursing.

“What sorts of traditions did you have, growing up?” she asked.

“None,” he dismissed and looked to the menu neither of them had read yet. “Should we have thestifado?” It was a rustic beef stew made with red wine and tomato. “It seems to be their specialty.”

“That sounds good. Thank you.” She waited while he waved over the server and ordered, then said, “I’m sorry, Konstantin. I didn’t realize that you don’t celebrate Christmas. I presumed you were culturally Christian if not practicing. Do you observe something else?”

“No.”

“Then why...?” She frowned with puzzlement.

He came up against the contradiction where he preferred not to discuss his past, but saw that it would be more practical to make his explanation so he would never have to talk about it again. “It’s nothing to do with religion. When I was very young, there wasn’t any money for birthdays or Christmas. If we had a good meal on any day of the year, that was celebration enough. After my mother was gone, neither my grandfather nor I had much interest in any of the holidays so I’ve never observed them.”

“What about when you were at school? We always had a year-end party and exchanged gifts in our dorms. You didn’t do things like that?”

“The other boys did.” They would buzz with talk of where their family would travel to ski or see relatives, excited by what they hoped to find under the tree. “Some would pester me to draw a name, but there were a handful of other boys who didn’t celebrate for whatever reason. It was easy enough to opt out.”

“Ilias never gave you any gifts?” She couldn’t believe that.

“Video games,” he said drily, under no illusion as to his friend’s motive. “So I could be coerced into playing them with him.”

“He was always sneaky like that, wasn’t he?”

He was. And he would look at Konstantin with an expression like hers, too. Not pitying exactly, but earnest and fretful, wanting to pull him into the group. Wanting him to experience a high that Konstantin knew would only put him in danger of a fall.

“You don’t miss what you’ve never had,” he said in a tone of finality.

She flinched, which he regretted, but their stew arrived so it was easy enough to close the subject and move on to other things.

CHAPTER TWELVE

ELOISEWANTEDTOrespect Konstantin’s privacy around his childhood. He had said he didn’t talk about how he had come to live with his grandfather and, given the small glimpses he’d offered of his past, she suspected there was a great deal of pain and sadness along with poverty and a certain amount of neglect.

It made her heart hurt to think of it, but it helped her understand why he was so remote and unused to small gestures of kindness. She couldn’t stop thinking about that remark he’d made the other day about not thinking he was worth caring about. Did he really feel that way? It made her wonder if he even believed in love or would ever offer her his heart.

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