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She took the seat beside him, sighing softly. “I didn’t expect you to stay so long.”
It had been a week. At least, that’s what his iPhone told him. He’d lost count of the days, and the nights. He closed his eyes against the memories that had been tormenting him, and worst of all, the guilt that was chewing through his stomach.
“Nor did I.”
“Something’s bothering you.”
“I’m just busy,” he denied, because how could he put his own worries on his mother?
“You thrive on being busy. That’s your preferred state. This is different; you’re brooding.”
“Am I?” He turned to face her, unaware of the tension that radiated off him.
“Something’s happened?”
“Not particularly.”
“Is it your father?”
He shook his head, turning back to the view, looking out to sea.
“He used to love it here.” She pressed a hand into the seat, her smile misty. “He said it reminded him of when he was a young boy.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“There’s a lot about your father you didn’t know,” she said quietly.
Anastasios turned to his mother, an alarm bell sounding. Was it possible she already knew? That all of this had been for nothing?
“There were things in his past he was ashamed of, no matter how many times I told him he didn’t need to be. Things I wish he’d shared with you boys. It might have helped you to understand why he was always so hard on you.”
“He wanted us to strive to be best,” Anastasios said.
“Yes, but there’s a reason for that.”
“Because he was always best.”
“Your father had to be. It was the only way to rise above the squalor into which he was born.”
Anastasios was very still, listening.
“He lived in abject poverty for much of his life. When he was fourteen, he was basically the full-time carer to Athanasios. His father was a drunk, a terrible man, I believe. There was no stability. He used to beat Kon, often, and then Athanasios. Your father knew he needed to get out, to make a new life for himself. At eighteen, he left home, began to work, using his guile to build the business.”
Something stammered inside Anastasios. He knew his father had grown up poor, that this was behind his unwavering focus on the business, but he hadn’t known about his father’s abusive childhood. Would that man have looked at Phoebe, and the way she was desperately trying to find her feet in life, and have wanted simply to help her? To help her as he’d needed help? A wave of recrimination rolled through Anastasios. “I thought he was given an apprenticeship.”
“He was, but only because of his focus, intelligence and determination. After two years, he could buy a little place and afford a nanny—he brought Athanasios to live with him. Every moment after that, your father worked, and worked, and worked to become a success, to create safety for his brother. That drove him, and he never relaxed. Even when he had all this, he was, I think, afraid of it being pulled out from under him. He had a hard life, Tasso, but he loved his children so very much.”
Her voice wobbled, and he knew she was thinking not just of her boys, but of Valentina too. Antastasios lifted his arm, wrapping it around her shoulders, his heart aching for this woman, and for another woman, far away. Phoebe had done it tough, no question. She’d been born to a bastard who hadn’t deserved her, and yet still she saw the good in people. She’d been trying, for so long, to fix her life, to live to the potential of her spirit rather than the limitations of her birthright. She was so full of character and strength; was it any wonder Konstantinos had wanted to help her?
“You must miss him.”
She put her head on his shoulder. “I do.” She wiped away a tear. “But I’m so lucky, Tasso. We had a wonderful life together. I’m sad he’s gone, but so grateful for the time we had. He was my soulmate.”
Anastasios stroked his mother’s arm, comforting her, even when he rejected her claim. Was there any such as thing as a soul mate? His father hadn’t thought so, or he would never have cheated.
And what did Anastasios think?
He stared out at the ocean, questions in his mind he couldn’t—and didn’t want—to answer.
