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“If you had, it’s probable that the schism that happened yesterday wouldn’t have.” Polly might have understood some of Alexandros’s attitude in the beginning of their marriage when his family was still mired in grief, but that didn’t change the truth. “They both got used to saying whatever they wanted to, and about, me. Neither took you seriously when you warned Stacia to watch her tongue yesterday.”
“But you did?” he asked.
She had, as shocking as she’d found his late in the game championship of his wife. “I know that look you get when you will not be moved, and you had it.”
“And yet my mother and sister, who have known me since my birth and hers respectively, did not recognize this look?”
“Maybe they’ve never seen it before. Your usual policy with them is to give them what they want.” He’d once told her he expected peace on the domestic front.
And he’d shown her that the way he ensured it was to give his mother what she wanted like a good son, and to spoil his sister because that was what everyone in that family expected of him toward Stacia.
“While depriving my wife of the support she should expect from me.” He did not sound impressed by that concept.
She wasn’t either, but she’d learned to live with it. “No comment.”
“You used to tell me I spoiled them.”
“You did.” And he’d had his reasons, but yes, definitely spoiled.
“And yet, no matter how I provided for you materially, you never felt spoiled by me.”
“I needed different things from you.” Time. Attention. His willingness to stand by her side in a family confrontation.
“Needed past tense?” he asked.
“I learned to find contentment with what I had.”
He said an ugly word, and suddenly she realized he was seethingly angry.
“You’re furious,” she said, feeling fragile and not even sure why.
“Ne.”
Yes, she translated.
Polly bit her lip. “With me?”
Suddenly his face changed completely, and he pulled her into his arms without warning. “With myself. With my mother and my sister, who should have made you welcome, but instead did much to guarantee you found life here as my wife difficult. But mostly with myself, agape mou, mostly with myself.”
He kissed her then, his lips gentle and completely at odds with the emotion pouring off of him.
She responded, as she always did, allowing her body to melt into his, parting her lips for the tender caress of his tongue. They kissed for long minutes, the only sound in the room their shared breathing and their daughter’s sleeping snuffles over the monitor.
Finally, he pulled back and made a point of looking around her sanctuary. “I like it in here.”
“I do too.”
“I would like it if you brought this warmth into the rest of our home.”
“Would you?” She didn’t remind him again that he’d changed his tune.
Because the fact he had? Was something good.
“Not immediately and not all in one go.” He brushed a barely there kiss across her lips. “I do not want you exhausted by another project when we’ve worked to take others off your plate.”
“We?” she asked delicately.
“Okay, I made some unilateral decisions, but you looked relaxed and pink with health when I arrived. I do not think that can be seen as anything but a positive.”
