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Nikos let out a sharp breath. ‘I hardly think you’re in a position to criticise me for withholding information about my family.’ His mocking jibe hit its target full-on. ‘And, just in case you were in any doubt, I don’t want your sympathy either. If anything, I should be feeling sorry for you.’
‘Me? Why?’
‘For having a mother like Fiona. If she’s an example of maternal virtues, I’m better off without.’
He saw Kate flinch, almost as if he had hit her. Maybe his comment had been below the belt, but Nikos told himself that didn’t mean Kate didn’t deserve it. She had sided with her mother right from the start, and made no attempt to ease the shock of that first meeting—a hugely awkward situation entirely of Kate’s making. Not only that, but she had bundled him away out of sight like a dirty secret, like something shameful. She had given him no chance to try and win Fiona round.
Nikos didn’t give a damn what Fiona O’Connor thought of him. He hadn’t back then and he didn’t now. Sure, he’d been shocked by her reaction to him. But he would have brushed that aside, ignored her vituperative comments, laughed them off—if he’d had Kate’s support. He’d naively thought the love they shared was rock-solid, for ever, strong enough to withstand the strongest onslaught. Let alone a self-obsessed middle-aged woman with a dislike of young, penniless Greeks.
How wrong he’d been. Kate’s love had disappeared at the first sign of trouble. Or maybe it had never been there at all.
As he stared at her now he felt memories flooding back unbidden, the old anger slamming into him hot and hard, tightening his skin. What was he talking about? Of course it had never been there. Hadn’t Kate made that perfectly obvious when he had walked into her room on the night of her father’s funeral?
That torturous day.
Seeing Kate in such agonising pain had been terrible for Nikos to watch. She had seemed so alone—as if she’d had to shoulder the weight of Bernie’s death for both her and her mother. Nikos had seen that she was completely consumed by her sorrow, hollowed out by it, a mere shell of the warm, vibrant, funny young woman he had met in Crete. He had longed to comfort her, to support her, to be there for her as her fiancé.
But Kate had pushed him away, rejected everything he had tried to do for her, all his attempts to comfort her—almost as if she’d blamed him for her father’s death. Or just blamed him for being there. For turning up in New York when she had told him to stay at home. For threatening the precariously balanced equilibrium of the O’Connor family. For being the lowly, worthless no-hoper they clearly thought he was.
Completely sidelined, Nikos had swallowed his pride and retreated into the shadows, not wanting to cause Kate any more grief than she’d been suffering already. Their engagement had been conveniently pushed aside, with Kate telling her mother with flustered insistence that she wasn’t to worry about it, only just stopping short of saying Nikos had made it all up. And Nikos had been effectively banished. Ignored.
He had slept in the spare room, sat at the back at the funeral service, kept out of everyone’s way at the wake, watching from a distance as Kate behaved socially, comforting her wailing mother, playing host to all the mourners. But by the time the last guest had gone the strain of the day had been written all over her face, pulling her facial muscles taut, hollowing her cheeks. And Nikos had hated to see her like that.
So that night, after Kate had excused herself and gone to her room, he had decided to go after her, intending to do nothing more than put his arms around her, hold her tight, try and take away a little of her pain.
There had been no reply when he’d tapped on the door, so he had quietly let himself in. The room had been empty, but as Nikos had stood there in the doorway Kate had appeared from the bathroom, with something in her hand. She had jumped when she saw him.
‘Nikos!’
‘Hi.’ He’d advanced into the room, itching to put his arms around her. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to check you’re okay.’
‘Yes, I’m fine.’ Her hands had gone behind her back.
