Page 19

Yes, it’s part of my assessment of who she truly is.
Ever since I decided to include her as a possible candidate for marriage—the only candidate I’ve seriously considered so far—I’ve been observing her more closely.
A little over a week after waking up, Brooklyn is starting to regain her glow. Her eyes, her skin, and her hair all shine with health. Her personality is also beginning to blossom, even though I’m certain she holds back in my presence.
"I can wait until your family finishes their visit," I say, turning to shake hands with Madison and her stepmother, Eleanor. "Once they leave, I’ll examine you."
I lean against the wall, watching her. But Brooklyn is no longer looking at me; her gaze is directed below my waist. Following her line of sight, I see one of the babies wobbling toward me, holding a small firetruck toy.
"Crr!" he says, smiling as he offers it to me.
I glance at the three women in the room, feeling confused. All my years of study haven’t prepared me to understand this language.
Eleanor is the first to interpret. "He’s saying that the toy he’s holding is acar, and he’s offering it to you, doctor. Silas doesn’t have many male figures around him, aside from Zeus and, occasionally, the other Kostanidis brothers. So when he sees a man, he thinks he’s found a playmate."
I hesitate for a moment before accepting the toy, but when I do, he flashes a wide grin with his few teeth and nods enthusiastically.
"What does that mean?" I ask Eleanor, who seems fluent in his language.
"It means you’ve just been approved as a friend. You’ve earned the Silas seal of approval," she says with a laugh, though I take it seriously.
I don’t know much about human beings, but I was a child once, and I understand what it means to give someone your trust.
I crouch down, trying to get more or less at his level, though it’s nearly impossible with my height of six foot three.
Taking Eleanor’s words literally, I offer my hand for a handshake to seal our "agreement," but the little boy, who is the perfect copy of his mother, surprises me. Instead of shaking my hand, he hugs me.
I freeze, unsure of what to do with my hands. It’s almost ridiculous that I’m looking to a toddler for guidance in this moment, but that’s exactly what happens.
"Oh my God! He’s going to drool all over you, Dr. Athanasios," Madison warns. "He’s still teething, and he can make quite a mess sometimes."
Finally, I move, wrapping my arms gently around his tiny body.
I’m not a hugger. It doesn’t come naturally to me, but I try my best not to disappoint him.
He snuggles closer, and as soon as I have him securely in my arms, his sister joins in.
Why are they doing this? They barely know me! Isn’t it dangerous for them to be so affectionate with strangers?
"Don’t be surprised," Eleanor says. "They tend to mimic each other’s actions. Since Silas apparently decided you’re a friend, Soraya chose to give you the benefit of the doubt too." She’s smiling as she explains.
Just as I did with Silas, I embrace the little girl. They smell fresh and pure. For a moment, I forget about everyone else in the room, focused solely on this unexpected but pleasant contact.
When I look up, Brooklyn is watching us.
I’m not good at reading people at the best of times, but there are so many emotions crossing her face that I can’t keep up at all.
"Are you okay with this?" I ask, trying to gauge what she’s feeling.
"With you hugging my babies?"
I nod in agreement.
"Yes. Everyone needs a hug now and then, doctor. Even gods."
It’s the first time she’s alluded to my nickname, as our conversations are usually limited to clinical updates or questions about her recovery. There’s a playful tone in her voice, and her eyes sparkle.
"I don’t get it," Eleanor says.