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"I didn’t come here to argue but to eat and catch up on Sleeping Beauty’s awakening," William says, nodding toward me.
"Don’t be ridiculous. Brooklyn is just a patient," I say, my tone sour.
"A patient you were obsessed with bringing back to life. Could she be acandidate?"
"Did you come here just to get on my nerves?" I ask.
"No, I’m being serious. You’ve spent more time with Brooklyn Foster in recent weeks than with any other woman in your life. I just thought maybe you’d found the ideal candidate."
"What did I miss?" L.J. asks, having been in Europe giving lectures for nearly two months.
"Nothing. William just decided to spend the evening provoking me, which he should know by now is a waste of time."
"This time, it’s not provocation, I swear," William defends himself. "Or have you two changed your minds about last year’s conversation?"
I try to recall New Year’s Eve, a party on my yacht somewhere off the coast of Italy. The three of us, about to turn forty, as we’re all the same age, had a conversation about the future: marriage and descendants. To be more specific, a wife of convenience.
Considering none of us have fallen in love thus far, the chances of that happening are slim, if not nonexistent. But we all want children, and for that, we need a mother for them.
As a joke, the two of them even suggested surrogacy so we could each raise our own heir as single fathers. But that wouldn’t work for me.
I’m Greek. I want a family.
Not just that. I want back everything that was taken from me.
Although I was raised by a father and mother who never left any doubt about how much I was wanted, there’s a part of me that still craves compensation.
The ultimate prize. The crowning achievement of having defeated all those bastards.
"Where were you?" William asks, likely the person who knows me best in the world, noticing my distraction.
"Walking between past and present, as always," L.J. answers for me. "Maybe deciding on the ideal woman will help you finally close the door on the past, Athanasios."
"I don’t want to close it."
"That won’t bring her back."
"I know, but it will honor her. Besides, I haven’t given up. She’ll wake up one day."
Hours later, my mind is still stuck on the conversation with my partners.
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been paying more attention to my female companions since New Year’s Eve.
I’ve had a few girlfriends who lasted months—or if they weren’t officially girlfriends, it was something very close. Either way, it was an attempt to deepen a relationship.
Attemptis the perfect word because I don’t consider myself capable of truly connecting with anyone. For a wife ofconvenience, I don’t want much more than sexual compatibility—and of course, the woman has to be attractive—and the ability to maintain an intelligent dialogue with my partner.
Even so, I haven’t found anyone who made me even consider giving up the single life. However, the clock is ticking. I don’t want to be a grandfather to my own children.
I think about what L.J. said about Brooklyn being a potential candidate.
She’s as beautiful as a painting, so the physical attraction part would be covered.
The girl has already been broken, if the story about the father of her babies is true—that he was involved with dangerous people. And then there’s everything she’s been through recently. No one comes out of an experience like that unchanged.
What will she want from life after surviving such a nightmare?
Security,my cynical side answers.