“We saw each other, yes.”
“Why?”
Dimitrios began to play once more, heavier now, the somber tone of the song flooding the modern apartment.
“Is there a problem?”
Anastasios peered at Dimitrios. “No,” he admitted, eventually. Then, with a groan. “Did he ever tell you about her?”
Dimitrios frowned. “Who?”
“A woman.”
“A woman?” Dimitrios repeated. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Afriend.” The word was filled with emotions that Dimitrios couldn’t understand. “A woman that dad became friends with, here in London. He saw her often, too. Did he mention her to you?”
“You can’t seriously think he was having an affair? He was in his eighties and he was devoted to Maggie.”
Anastasios’ face paled. “It wasn’t romantic between them,” he said with an angry shake of his head. “Only a fool would think that.” He refilled his scotch glass and threw it back. “Only a goddamned fool.”
“He mentioned no one to me,” Dimitrios said after a moment. “But he seemed happier than I’d seen him for a while.” He shook his head, because that wasn’t quite right. “No, he seemed at peace. As though something that had been bothering him for a long time had started to make sense. There was a general air of contentment I hadn’t seen in Konstantinos. Not for a long time.”
Not since Valentina,he added mentally, unable to reference that awful tragedy, for the guilt that was always festering in his gut, the secret guilt; he’d never told his family how he’d contributed to her drowning.
“She helped him,” Anastasios muttered. “And he helped her.”
“Who? What the hell are you talking about?”
Anastasios snapped his face back to Dimitrios, but he didn’t elucidate properly.
“She didn’t want his money. She just wanted him to love her.”
“To love her? I told you, Konstantinos wasn’t cheating on Maggie.”
Anastasios peered at his brother, then shook his head.
“To love her as a father. To love her as a friend. To be treated with respect. She deserves that.”
“You are making no sense.”
“But I understand now. I know what I have to do.”
“What?”
“I have to fix this.”
“Fix what?”
“Everything. I broke everything. And I have to fix it.” He reached out and squeezed Dimitrios’ muscular arm. “I have to fix everything. I can’t let her walk away. Not without trying, trying to show her, to make her understand—,”
Dimitrios stared at his brother as though he’d lost his mind.
Anastasios straightened, eyes locked to Dimitrios’ with renewed intent.
“I love her. I have to make sure she understands that. I have to show her that she’s safe with me. And if she still chooses to walk away, okay. But I have to try, Dimitrios. I have to try.”
* * *