Page 25 of Pregnant Behind the Veil (Brides for Greek Brothers #3)

Alessandra

I look down at the picturesque town spread out before us like a patchwork quilt.

Crystal Falls, the small town Sarah moved to after she retired from teaching, is just an hour north of New York City tucked along the banks of the Hudson River.

There’s a town square surrounded by local shops and restaurants.

Several parks scattered throughout the neighborhoods of cozy homes.

On the perimeter, farmhouses with rolling hills and sweeping pastures, several wineries, a horse stable and bed and breakfasts.

A mix of small-town America and country escapism.

“Are you ready?”

I smile up at Michail as the plane descends toward the lone airstrip just outside of town.

“I am.”

The last week has been one of the happiest of my life.

We would wake up whenever we wanted to in the morning, making love by the glow of the sunrise.

Sometimes we fell back asleep in each other’s arms. Other times we would get up and wander the streets before the tourists descended.

Lunch would often be taken in whatever random cafe we happened upon.

Some afternoons we sneaked into shops and picked up trinkets for his brothers, Tessa and Juliette, his mother.

Several days we drifted back to the villa, lounged on the terrace or took a dip in the pool.

Nights were spent in bed, exploring each other’s bodies as the sun gave way to the moon.

I never imagined when our plane took off from New York City a week ago that I could find such happiness. But it’s here. It’s here and it’s real. Each day that passes comes with Michail and I growing more and more comfortable in each other’s company.

There’s still so much for us to decide, to talk about. I may have accepted that I’m falling in love with Michail, but I’m not ready to share it. Not yet. There are still parts of himself that he’s holding back, too.

But I can wait. He’s already given me so much in a short amount of time.

I check to make sure the gift bag containing his mother’s present is nearby. It was odd, picking gifts for other people, but it made me excited. There’s still some nervousness about opening myself up to others. But I’m excited, too, at the thought of having a family again.

The plane touches down. A private car whisks us away to his mother’s home, a stunning Victorian just down the road from one of the wineries.

As we drive up, I smile. It’s like a gingerbread house come to life, complete with lavender shingles, crown molding on the wraparound that reminds me of icing on a cake and colorful stained glass in the front door.

“You bought this for her.”

Michail nods. “The one luxury she would allow herself in those early years was a magazine that featured Victorian homes. She’d page through and point out the details she liked.

” He nods toward the turret on the far end of the house.

“When this came on the market, it was like it had been made for her.”

I reach over and squeeze his arm. Sarah comes out as the car pulls up, smiling from ear to ear.

“You’re back!”

It feels natural to walk up, to accept her hug. I hug her back before she turns to Michail.

“Hi, Mom.”

Sarah wraps her arms around her son. He returns her hug with an exuberant one of his own. I step back and look away. There are still moments, moments like these when I’m reminded of my own mother, when the loss hits anew.

But it’s getting better. Day by day. Michail’s and my deepening relationship is helping with that.

A chill touches the back of my neck, fleeting but potent. I glance around, but there’s no wind, no sign of an impending storm. No, this chill comes from within.

I frown. It’s only been a week. I know this level of bliss won’t be permanent.

Even my mother and I, for how strong our relationship was, still disagreed, even fought.

At some point, something will come up. Yet as Michail takes my hand in his and guides me into the house, I can’t help but shake the feeling that something else is coming.

Something that will not only test our newfound happiness, but possibly rip us apart.

I push that thought aside. This is just me trying to mentally prepare for the worst-case scenario.

Something I have done ever since I can remember.

If I expect the worst, I can’t be surprised.

But I missed out on so much living my life that way.

I want to stop that, not just for myself but for my child, too.

I sit down in Sarah’s living room, taking in the mix of old-fashioned furniture like a low-lying pale blue sofa and a clawfoot coffee table.

Paintings adorn the walls, stunning watercolors of the Hudson River, the nearby mountains, a farmhouse amid the bold colors of fall.

On an end table next to an antique lamp is a copy of the photo I saw in Michail’s apartment, him standing next to his mother with his arm about her shoulders and the sea behind them.

“You have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you.” She taps out a nervous pattern on her thigh. “I did want to offer after you’ve had the baby and settled back in to come out and stay for a couple of weeks. Help out around the house, cook, clean.”

Touched, I smile at her. “That sounds amazing. Although I hope you’ll be holding the baby, too.”

“Of course.” Sadness crosses her face. “When I had Michail, I didn’t have much. There was a family who lived next door, and sometimes the daughter would come over to clean or bring me something her mother baked. It meant the world to me.”

Michail tenses next to me. But when I glance at him, his face is smooth.

“We’d love to have you, Mom.”

“Good.” She leans forward. “So how was your trip?”

We make small talk for a few minutes, telling her about the various shops and restaurants we visited, the villa we stayed in. Her eyes grow misty when I tell her about returning to the bar where we met.

“It sounds wonderful. I’m so glad that you can make new memories there.”

Michail reaches over and grabs her hand. “We have something for you.”

Sarah cocks her head to one side. “You didn’t have to get me a gift.”

Michail almost looks like an excited young boy as he stands. “I’ll be right back.”

He disappears out the door.

“I’m so glad your trip to Greece was a happy one,” Sarah says.

“Me, too. I wasn’t sure it would be given what happened the last time we were there.”

Sarah nods knowingly. “I felt the same way. But maybe this is a fresh start for us all.”

I evaluate my next words carefully before I speak them. “I didn’t know Lucifer long, but long enough that I saw his crueler side. It must have been hard when Michail told you he was going to go see him.”

“It was. Agony. I barely slept until he got back to New York. We didn’t talk about it.” Her words are barely a whisper. “I would never wish anyone dead. But when I saw on the news that Lucifer had passed, I was so relieved.”

She glances at me. “Michail’s told you, hasn’t he? What happened?”

“Some, yes.”

“Eighteen, raised by very wealthy and very controlling parents. The fact that I managed to talk them into a semester in Paris was a miracle. They had already planned for me to marry the son of one of my father’s business partners.

When I met Lucifer…” Her voice trails off as she looks back to the clouds.

“He was older, arrogant, dangerous. I thought it was love, but it was the novelty, feeling rebellious. When I told him I was pregnant, he told me it wasn’t his problem. My parents disowned me.”

“Michail shared some details.”

Her eyes brighten. “He did?” At my nod, she swallows hard. “I’m glad. It’s a hard chapter of our lives, one he doesn’t share with hardly anyone.”

Michail walks in with a large black bag in hand. He moves over to a small alcove and brings out an easel.

“What is this?”

Michail unzips the bag. “This, Mom, is for you.”

He pulls out the first painting and sets it on the easel. Sarah gasps.

“Michail…”

The painting is stunning, a bright blue sea with white-capped waves and a gull flying with its wings stretched out. In the distance, a mountain looms, the edges hazy and dreamy.

“How did you— I haven’t seen these in years.”

He looks at me. “With Alessandra’s help.”

Touched by his inclusion, I glance away before I give in to my own urge to shed a tear or two. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sarah stand and slowly approach the easel. She runs a finger along the edge of the canvas.

“I never thought I would see this again.”

Michail carefully sets it down and puts the next one on the easel. One after another: New York City at night, an old man fishing off the end of a dock, a field of flowers and springtime, and the Eiffel Tower, standing proud against the backdrop of Paris.

“I don’t even know what to say.”

Michail wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

Worry passes over Sarah’s face. She glances in my direction before smiling up at her son.

“This is cause for a toast. Would you mind grabbing us some champagne? And I have some sparkling cider on the top shelf of the fridge.”

Michail has barely left the room when Sarah turns to me. Her eyes are wide, her cheeks pale as her fingers curl around the arm of her chair in a death grip.

“Sarah?”

“What did he have to do?”

I freeze. “What?”

“What price did he have to pay? There’s no way that Lucifer would have ever let those paintings out of his grasp without some sort of condition or…”

Her eyes widen, then drop down to my stomach. My body goes cold.

“Did it have something to do with you?”

Six months ago, I would have been able to handle her questions, to misdirect, buy time. But now, as I stare into her apprehensive eyes, I have nothing. I don’t want to lie to her any more than I want to break my promise to Michail.

Unfortunately, my silence is telling.

“Oh, God.” She scrunches her eyes tight and grips the back of her neck. “What happened?”