Memories of Santorini, page 24
Angelika rushed to her side, sitting beside her. “Oh my God, Sienna, I’m so sorry.” Though she was so close to her daughter, she restrained herself from putting her arm around Sienna, though Xandros knew how desperately she wanted to.
He would gladly beat the man to a pulp. And this was the man Angelika had been married to for thirty years? How did she survive?
He said solemnly, meaning every word, “You will always be a welcome part of my family.”
She looked at him, her eyes shiny with tears. “Are you sure they’re going to want me?”
“Absolutely.” Then he added, “I will always want you in my family.” He looked at his Angelika. “I love with your mother. I have been in love with her for over thirty years.” Then he turned back to the daughter he hadn’t known he had but whom he would love no less. “Will you allow me to be part of your family?”
He waited for her answer with bated breath, his heart ready to break or burst with joy.
Angela waited to hear her daughter’s answer, either absolution or condemnation, even as her heart broke for what Donald had said, once again making Sienna worthless in his eyes.
But there was Carter Ellis, sitting beside Sienna, holding her hand, letting her lean on him. Sienna had never had anyone to lean on.
And finally, her daughter said, “I don’t know even know you.”
“I’d like to know you,” Xandros answered with the gentleness of a father gazing at his newborn. “We can try.”
Sienna sniffed, and Carter squeezed her hand, giving her support. He was a good man. Sienna wiped beneath her eye. “I’d like to try.”
Angela was close to tears, of joy, of fear, of relief, of nerves. Because while Sienna might want to know Xandros, she still might not forgive her mother.
It was up to Angela to ask. She plucked up her courage, wishing that she had Xandros’s hand wrapped around hers the way Carter had curled his around Sienna’s. “I have a lot to apologize for. I should have told the truth years ago. I should never have let your—” She stopped herself. “—I shouldn’t have let Donald ostracize us. I should have left him. There are so many things I should have done but didn’t. Can you ever forgive me?”
Sienna breathed in, held it, looked at Carter, then exhaled in a rush and echoed her words to Xandros. “I’d like to try.” Tears filled her eyes. “It might take a while to get used to all of this. It feels like my whole life has upended. I don’t even have Bron and the baby anymore.”
“But you have a whole family in us.” She touched Sienna’s hand. “Aunt Teresa, Uncle William, your brother, me. Xandros.” She had to add him. He was part of their lives now. “And maybe Bron doesn’t feel the way Donald does. She cares about you.” Then she couldn’t help herself, and whether it was right or wrong, she added, “I love you. You’re my baby girl. I’ll do whatever I can to make things up to you.”
But Sienna turned away, looked at Carter.
And Angela felt nothing but loss.
Sienna didn’t want to cry in front of them. She didn’t want to feel that vulnerable. Not now. But she looked at Carter’s handsome face, at the sincerity in his gaze, at the love shining from his eyes. It felt as if she’d been bitter and lonely all her life, keeping everyone at arm’s length. She hadn’t wanted to risk rejection, to risk her heart.
But she wanted to try again, with a new job, with Carter, with her brother, with Bron. She’d even been willing to give her father a chance, though he wasn’t her real father.
But then he’d trashed her.
Maybe things would be different with Xandros. Maybe she could never call him Dad or feel the things a girl should about her father. But did she even know what that was like? Maybe she could give Xandros a chance. She could give herself a chance.
Could she do no less for her mother?
She met Carter’s gaze, looked deep into his eyes, into his soul. She knew what he would do, what he would want her to do, what he would feel was the best thing for her.
“Mom, did you say I couldn’t go to the prom with Dylan Becker?”
Her mother’s eyes widened as if she’d thought Sienna had lost her mind. Maybe she had. But she still needed to know.
“Was that when you were sixteen?”
Sienna nodded. “He was a senior.”
Her mother drew in a deep breath, let it out. “I don’t think so. Actually, now that I really think about it, I was excited to take you out to buy your first prom dress.”
Sienna sighed. “That would have been really fun.” Reaching for her mother’s hand, she held it in both of hers and said what was in her heart. “I was always angry with you. I blamed you. But today, when he said I wasn’t even a relative—” She couldn’t say his name, certainly couldn’t call him Dad. “I saw all the small cruelties he dealt. Death by a thousand scratches. What were you supposed to do?” She shrugged, putting herself in her mother’s place, feeling the helplessness. “Could you have said when I was eight or ten or thirteen, ‘Hey, guess what, he’s not really your dad, so don’t worry about what he says?’”
Her mother flinched. Sienna couldn’t help that. “But once you married him, I don’t think you had any other choice but to keep that secret.”
“I should never have married him in the first place.”
Her mother looked at Xandros, and it wrecked Sienna to see the love in his eyes. He adored her mother. And Mom loved him. Everyone had suffered for that decision. But would Sienna herself have done anything differently in her mother’s situation? She knew Nonni. Her grandmother meant well and had such a big heart, but she could be so opinionated and stubborn, telling you what she thought you should do, angry if you didn’t take her advice.
Then her mother added, “But if I hadn’t married him, you and I wouldn’t have Matthew.”
“No, we wouldn’t have Matthew,” Sienna echoed. Finally, she squeezed her mother’s hand. “Let’s start over without all the petty cruelties your ex-husband perpetrated.” She gave him the name he deserved, an ex. Then she looked at Xandros. “Let’s all start over.” She felt Carter’s warmth, his support, his love.
Her mother cried, and Xandros was there only a moment later, his big hand on her back, soothing her tears. Tears of joy.
She wondered what it was going to be like to have a Greek father, to be half Greek, to have half siblings she’d never known.
And what it would be like to have an amazing man like Carter by her side, talking her through it all?
Aunt Teresa clapped her hands, beaming with a huge smile. “Let’s all eat, drink, and be merry.”
It sounded like an excellent plan, especially when she stood and Carter wrapped his arm around her shoulder, holding her close.
There was no place she’d rather be.
Epilogue
The doorbell rang. Xandros. Angela dashed to the door like a girl waiting for her prom date. It seemed like forever since she’d seen him. Two weeks was a lifetime, even if they’d been apart for thirty years before that.
Opening the front door, she threw herself in his arms, dotting his face with kisses until he took her lips with a long, sweet kiss that left her drunk with desire.
Pulling back, he framed her face in his big hands. “I missed you.”
“I missed you more.” They both smiled at her one-upmanship.
She took his hand, pulled him inside. “I could have picked you up at the airport.”
“I didn’t want to disturb your party preparations. And I needed a car. I cannot have you driving me all the time.”
“I love driving you around.” But she knew what he meant. A person needed freedom.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I wanted to arrive yesterday to help you.”
She laughed. “It’s just family. And I catered the whole thing.”
His mouth dropped in mock shock. “But I would have cooked for all of you.”
She patted his chest, went on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Next time.”
He pulled her in for another full-body hug. God, he felt so good against her.
Her bed had been so empty the past two weeks, even though she’d talked to Xandros every day. “Did you get everything done?”
A month ago, only a few days after what she liked to call her reconciliation with Sienna and Matthew, she and Xandros flew to Paris. There they met his eldest daughter, Thea, a lovely woman. Her husband was a quiet, handsome Frenchman, and Xandros’s grandchildren were adorable. Thea took the news with a joy Angela couldn’t have dreamed of. She’d hugged Angela, whispering, “I am so glad to see my father this happy.” Then she’d pelted them with questions. When would they get married? Where would they live? When would she meet her half sister Sienna? Maybe it was the way Europeans dealt with things, calmly, no hysterics. Maybe it was the thirty years, before her parents had even married.
They’d headed to Athens next, meeting Christos and his family, then onto Crete where Juliana’s cruise ship had docked for excursions, and finally back to Santorini to speak with Niko and Xandros’s mother.
Everywhere Angela was greeted with open arms, even Mama Daskalakis.
She’d stayed a few days on Santorini, then left Xandros to his arrangements. He planned to spend the summer with Angela and he needed to pass off his duties. Of course, he would only be a phone call or video chat away and would still do his fair share of work.
And, she smiled to herself, doing his fair share of pleasuring her too.
“Everyone’s out by the pool. Are you ready to meet my mother?”
He shuddered dramatically. “I am shaking in my boots. Your mother terrifies me.”
She laced her fingers with his. “She terrifies me too. But together, we can vanquish her.”
She smiled, and Xandros leaned in for a kiss. “For luck,” he whispered.
They could hear the noise even before they opened the French doors. “I thought it was only your family?” Xandros put a hand over his ear as if the noise was deafening.
Angela laughed, shaking her head. “It is. And you’ve met most of them already.”
It was odd, a funny odd, the way the patio fell silent as they stepped out, as if they were a couple ready to make their wedding vows in front of all their guests.
She’d dressed the garden for celebration. Hydrangeas, rhododendrons, camellias, and azaleas surrounded the pool deck, though a little past their spring blooms. She’d interspersed the beds with petunias, impatiens, pansies, and minion bells, filling the backyard with glorious color.
Looking at Xandros, she thought how beautiful he was, how strong, how kind. He saluted Sienna, who’d been catching up on the latest gossip with her cousins, her hand curled in Carter’s.
Carter had become a fixture. Angela had never seen her daughter happy. She’d seen her determined, focused, angry, complacent, even pleased, but never lighthearted or joyful, not like she was with Carter Ellis.
Santorini had changed both their lives. Angela had found her lost love. Sienna had found a new love.
Matthew, too, was happy, dating Fay, a beautiful woman seven years older than him. It had come to Angela that Matthew was an old soul, so of course he would be with an older woman. Her son had a beautiful, even temper, taking everything with equanimity, never flustered, never reckless. Which was probably why he could handle his father. Fay, a pediatrician, suited him perfectly. They matched in looks as well, both with hair a russet brown that Fay highlighted with amber. Shorter than Matthew’s five nine, Fay could still wear heels. Though Angela wasn’t sure young people these days even cared about that.
And there was Mama. She sat with Poppa and William and Teresa at the table under the patio umbrella. She was on her second margarita. While the others rose as Angela and Xandros took the three steps to the pool patio, Mama remained seated, like a grand dame or even a queen.
At eighty, her mother was remarkable. She’d blessed her daughters with her full figure. Angela had once heard a society matron refer to her mother as a battle-ax. And Mama was definitely sturdy. For years she had dyed the gray out of her hair, but after moving to Scottsdale, she’d allowed her hairdresser to let the gray take over. She still wore her long hair in a neat chignon at the back of her head, and she had aged well, like Sophia Loren, her mother’s idol.
But she was not the battle-ax that society matron had called her. She was strong, she was opinionated, she was stubborn, and she was formidable. Yet she loved fiercely. Love had been in the mix when she’d pushed Angela to marry Donald. In her world, a child needed a father. Even if he wasn’t a biological father. How could she know Donald wasn’t father material?
As they approached, Mama looked down her nose, if it was possible to look down your nose when you were five foot one and seated. When Xandros stood in front of her, she held out her hand like a queen who expected him to kiss her ring.
In regal tones, she said, “I suppose you’re no longer a beach bum.”
Xandros laughed boisterously, full of happiness and love. “With the red, white, and black sand beaches of my Santorini and the blue Aegean Sea, one cannot help but be a beach bum.”
For a moment Mama appeared stunned, her brow furrowed, her lips pinched, as if she’d expected Xandros to bow and scrape before her. But then, as if a light had turned on or the sun had come out from behind the clouds, her mother smiled. Mama had a beautiful smile. “Sit, young man.”
That, of course, made Angela’s lips twitch. Xandros was not a young man. But he was a man in his prime, and he was hers. And she would love him for the rest of her life.
She no longer had to subsist on memories of Santorini.
Xandros charmed her grandmother. He seemed capable of charming anyone. He was so different from the man Sienna had believed to be her father. Quick to smile, quick to laugh, his dark eyes seemed to dance, especially when he looked at her mother.
But she couldn’t call him Dad yet. Maybe she never would. Maybe he would always be Xandros. But she didn’t hate him. She was no longer angry with her mother. And she tried not to think about Donald.
She squeezed Carter’s hand. “Nonni likes him.”
“How can you tell?” Charlotta wanted to know. Her cousin was a ballerina through and through, delicately boned, finely featured, slim with a dancer’s grace.
Sienna held up both hands. “Because she’s like a giggly teenage girl impressed with the captain of the football team.”
“Oh my God,” Bianca gushed, her hand over her mouth. “She’s actually fluttering her eyelashes.”
Sophia laughed with them, and whispered, as if Nonni had the best hearing, which maybe she did, “She’s just so cute.” She started to raise her hand to point, but stopped herself. “Look at Poppa. He’s fading into the background so Nonni can have her day.”
Their grandfather wasn’t usually a wallflower, but he sat back in his chair, his arms crossed over his beefy chest, and smiled. He was a stocky man, three years older than Nonni. You’d never guess they were both in their eighties. Maybe it was the Italian genes. She hoped she was just like them.
Carter tipped his chin toward her mother. “I’ve never seen your mom look more radiant.”
They all nodded, agreeing. Her mother had started to glow weeks ago, perhaps even that night at Aunt Teresa’s house, when Sienna finally admitted that Donald, who was not her father, had shown his true cruel colors. Sienna had finally realized what her mother had gone through over the years.
“She looks beautiful. And happy,” she murmured. They all fell silent, watching her mom, watching Xandros charm Nonni, watching Poppa’s delight.
So much had happened in just a month. She’d had her interview at Smithfield and Vine, who’d offered her the job on the spot. She jumped at it, turning in her two-week notice at that “soulless corporation.” They promptly issued her walking papers, not even accepting her offer of two weeks. That had been fine with her.
She’d left her cell phone number on the voicemail, and, oddly enough, it hadn’t been cut off, which was strange since they’d rushed her out the door as if she might steal state secrets. Her favorite clients were now calling her, scheduling appointments. Everything was working out.
And there was Carter. She pressed against him. His body felt so good, his strength so towering, his compassion melting her heart. And his lovemaking made her knees weak.
They’d talked about moving in together, but hadn’t made a decision since her office was in San Francisco and his was in the South Bay. They’d discussed getting something halfway between. Nothing was decided, everything was on the table, and the possibilities were limitless.
Was it love that made her so happy? Was it the new job? Or was it everything rolled together, finally reconciling with her mother, finding an amazing man, the perfect job, and tossing to the curb all the insecurities her father had helped to build.
Her phone vibrated in her back pocket.
Who could it be? Everyone was here, Matthew, her cousins, her aunt, uncle, Mom, Xandros, Carter. A sick lump rose in her stomach; the only other person it could be was Donald.
He’d called her twice since she’d gotten the job at Smithfield and Vine. She hadn’t answered his voicemails.
But with Carter by her side, she squashed the nausea.
Only it wasn’t Donald. It was Bron.
Sienna crossed to the far side of the pool so she could hear.
“Bron?” Surprise made her voice rise. She’d had one brief phone call with Bron since her meeting with Donald. “What’s up?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“I’m at my mom’s. We’ve got that family get-together today.”
“I know. I saw it on your Facebook page. I’m outside. Will you come get me?”
Outside? It sounded crazy. “I’ll be right there.”
That brief phone call right after she got back from Santorini had not gone in Sienna’s favor. In fact, it was disheartening. Bron said she didn’t like it, but she understood Donald’s feelings about not having Sienna in the wedding. And when Sienna had asked her to lunch to talk about it, Bron said it would be better to meet after the wedding. She’d ended the conversation with, “There’s a lot going on. I just need to take care of all this stuff on my end. But I will see you. We’re friends, I promise.”
