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“Eli,” he said, his jaw tight. “Why didn’t you tell me he was your son?”
Jasmine could feel the blood draining from her face. “I tried to tell you,” she said. “On the plane. Twice.”
He shook his head. “You should’ve told me from the beginning.”
“I wanted to,” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “I just didn’t know how.”
Ace took her hands in his. “You must be beside yourself from worry.”
She nodded, confused. His concern and understanding were the last things she’d expected. “You’re not mad?”
He shook his head. “I’d be frantic if my son were kidnapped.”
Jasmine’s gaze shot up to Ace’s, and she frowned. In that moment, she realized Ace only had half the story right. She’d assumed he knew her son was also his son when he only knew that she had a son.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said, holding her hands tighter, his chin lifting. “We will get him back.”
Jasmine opened her mouth to set him straight, then closed it. Once again, the timing seemed wrong. She’d wanted to tell him from the very beginning and, more recently, on the plane. With him being so gentle and reassuring about losing her son, she just couldn’t do it.
Her chest ached so badly with the need to hold her child that she wasn’t sure she could handle Ace’s wrath when he finally discovered Eli was his son.
The taxi pulled up in front of the café.
Ace paid the driver with his credit card, thanked him and stepped out of the cab. He met Jasmine at the rear of the vehicle and pulled the stolen suitcase from the trunk.
After the taxi driver left, Jasmine stared at the café where she’d met Ace. Since that fateful day when she’d invited the handsome American to share her table, her life had never been the same.
The café was every bit as cute now as it had been four years earlier. It had the same little bistro tables sitting out front, and a busy waiter was weaving between tables and chairs to deliver glasses of wine and plates of food.
Jasmine’s chest swelled as she stared at the empty table in the far corner of the grouping.
“Our table is available.” Ace turned that killer grin toward Jasmine, and the sun seemed to shine a little brighter as it had that day so long ago. For a moment, she stared into his eyes, unable to look away.
The waiter approached and spoke to them in Greek, pulling Jasmine back to the present, back to the fact her son was missing and that she was still withholding information Ace deserved to know.
Was withholding that information like lying? Because she felt as guilty as if she’d flat-out lied to the father of her child.
The waiter addressed them again, asking if they wanted to sit inside or outside.
Jasmine answered him in fluent Greek that they would sit outside. She nodded toward their table.
The waiter told her to take a seat and waved a hand toward the table sitting in the far corner of the space. He promised to be back soon with menus.
Jasmine led the way.
Ace pulled out a chair for her. Once she was seated, he dropped into the chair beside her.
Jasmine couldn’t stop the rush of déjà vu washing over her. She’d managed to revisit the little restaurant in Athens on several occasions. Each time, she’d imagined what it would be like if Ace just happened to show up at the exact same time, asking for this table.
In her mind, they’d smile cautiously at each other, then sink into their chairs and into the same familiarity they’d enjoyed the last time they’d been together.
Her imagination had come up with a lot better reunion than the one they were having now. She was too tense to relax and too worried to think beyond getting Eli back in her arms.
Jasmine pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut.
Think. What contacts did she have in Athens that would know where to find Athanasios Demopoulos?
A hand touched her arm.
