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The path had not always been easy. But then, what worth having in this life was ever easy?
They’d fought. They had gone through dark times both of their making and imposed upon them from without, but they’d come through it stronger. Closer.
All of it possible because of Molly, Constantine knew.
He became a brother to Balthazar, and in time, a friend. He and Molly had married on the same island where Balthazar had taken his own bride, and all four of them found a new future. And built a new kind of Skalas family, drenched deep in the love they’d worked so hard to find.
When their mother finally slipped away, some five years ago, Balthazar and Constantine had stood together, shoulder to shoulder, and allowed themselves to mourn.
Constantine and Molly had spent this far brighter decade building themselves the marriage they wanted. Then adding to it with the children Constantine had only ever wanted with her. Molly had retired Magda when she felt the time was best, and was considering the many offers she’d received, looking for what moved her. In the meantime, she was as stunning as he’d imagined she’d be, big with his daughters. Three in rapid succession, and then a squalling little thunderstorm of a son to cap off their collection.
And with Isabel as their magical, marvelous grandmother, Constantine knew that his son and his daughters would live the kind of life he could admit, now, he wished he’d had all along. His children were loved, and they knew it. His children were happy, and he worked hard to make sure they would always remain as close to that state as possible.
His children saw, every day, that he loved and honored and respected their mother. And that she loved him back. That their parents laughed and danced, fought and made up, and always, always, put each other and the family first.
He couldn’t wait to see who they became, these four bright souls he would let nothing crush.
But Skiathos was for him and Molly alone.
He heard her on the path, as he always did. And when he turned to enjoy her approach by the light of all those same gently glowing lanterns, he smiled.
For she had worn the filmy, see-through gown he’d left out on their bed, so he could see her beautiful figure. Her curves were rounder now, after the four children she’d borne him, and her smile was brighter. Because here, and always, she was his.
And he was hers, entirely.
Love kept getting better all the time.
“You almost kept me waiting,hetaira,” he murmured as she came to him, here in the place where they came to lie naked beneath the sun and remind themselves of all the ways they’d untwisted each other over the years.
“Never fear,” she said as she approached. “I will always be your courtesan, my love. Especially here. Ready and willing to accept whatever consequences you render for the unpardonable sin ofalmostmaking you wait, the horror.”
“And I will always be your husband, Molly,” he replied, a vow he could never make enough. “A role I hope I will one day deserve.”
She settled herself in his lap and gazed down at him with those arctic blue eyes that warmed for him. Always for him. He saw their past, their future. This beautiful present in these days they liked to steal for themselves, just the two of them, so they would always remember.
Not that he would ever forget.
And then the love of his life, the mother of his children, his perfecthetaira, kissed him as if she was breaking a spell. Or casting a new one.
The way she did every day.
And Constantine kissed her back with a hunger that only grew, year by year.
While all around them the lanterns glowed, the sea whispered far below, and forever was right here, tangled up between them and stretching out into eternity.
No revenge necessary.
Only love.
