Page 27 of Slightly Married (Irresistible #2)

“Remember when I used to be glamorous?” I asked, catching sight of my pale face, watery eyes, and the sheen of perspiration across my forehead.

“You’re beautiful.” K’s eyes met mine in the mirror.

I snorted. “You need your vision checked.”

His expression remained serious as he turned me to face him. “I mean it, Michaila. You’re carrying my child. There’s nothing more beautiful to me.”

“Who would have thought,” I said softly, reaching up to touch his face, “that throwing up would become one of our relationship milestones?”

He captured my hand, turning it to press a kiss to my palm. “I prefer to think of it as one of many steps in our journey.”

“Very romantic for a man who once had a wife and a fiancée,” I teased.

“That engagement was my penance.” He splayed his hands over my stomach. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever truly chosen. The only one I ever will.”

His confession landed with the weight of a promise. I stood perfectly still, speechless as love bloomed in my chest and spread outward.

“Well, damn. That’s... that’s a pretty good answer.”

K reached past me to retrieve my toothbrush, squeezing toothpaste onto it before handing it to me. I accepted the toothbrush. This moment felt more intimate than any sexual encounter we’d shared.

“For the record,” I said after a moment, meeting his gaze in the mirror, “I choose you too. Morning sickness, murder investigations, family drama and all.”

I smiled as I added, “Though I reserve the right to be occasionally dramatic about all of the above.”

As I brushed my teeth, K dampened another washcloth and wiped the back of my neck. I leaned into his care, accepting this tenderness.

“Do you need to sit for a moment?” he asked after I was done brushing my teeth.

“No,” I said, already halfway to the door. “I need to find Tia. “

I paused at the doorway, one hand on the frame as I looked back at my husband. “But don’t think you’re off the hook, mister. When I get back, you’re telling me everything.”

The look that crossed K’s face was so complex I couldn’t begin to decipher it, but there was no time to analyze it now. I had a friend to comfort.

As I hurried through the mansion’s corridors, my mind raced with questions. What could have happened between Tia and Santo in the span of half an hour? And what did Matthaios have to do with any of this?

Then I came to a stop on the main staircase, the scene before me freezing me in place. Tia stood with her mother, her shoulders hunched in defeat. When Zeus appeared around the corner, Tia cracked.

“I can’t say goodbye to him, too,” she said.

The Irish wolfhound had been her constant companion since her arrival at the villa. Zeus had abandoned Santo’s room and dragged his bed to Tia’s bedroom. He followed her from room to room with unwavering devotion.

Zeus padded to her and rested his head against her side. Tia sank down and buried her face in his fur. Her sobs echoed in the room.

Tears blurred my vision then. Her agony was apparent. What had driven Tia to this hasty departure?

I wiped at my eyes as I watched her give Zeus a final pat before straightening her shoulders and continuing down the stairs. When she spotted me, I stepped forward, wanting to offer comfort but feeling utterly inadequate.

“I’ll miss you,” Tia’s voice wavered.

My heart ached for her. Despite our relatively short time knowing each other, we’d formed a genuine connection.

“Thanks for being my friend, Kayla,” she continued, stepping forward and embracing me tightly.

I wrapped my arms around her, fighting back fresh tears. “This isn’t goodbye, Tia. Whatever happens between you and Santo... I still consider you family.”

Tia stiffened before she pulled away, her eyes avoiding mine. I recognized that look. She was afraid more kindness might break her.

I’d worn the same expression during my divorce, that desperate attempt to hold yourself together until you could fall apart in private. That determination to make it through just one more conversation, one more goodbye, before you allowed yourself to shatter completely.

She walked outside alongside her mother into the afternoon sunshine, and I remained on the staircase watching her figure retreat toward the waiting car.

There would be no more late-night girl talks over baklava, no shared eye-rolls over family dinner, no future niece-in-law to navigate this family with.

The loss felt personal, as if something meant for me had been snatched away.

I sank down onto the steps, suddenly drained. How had everything unraveled so quickly? Just this morning, we’d been planning our next trip to Thalassía, debating on how we could spend a night on the island without K and Santo getting bent out of shape.

“Mrs. Christakis?” Maria’s gentle voice broke through my thoughts.

I looked up to find the housekeeper standing a few steps below me with concern. “Are you feeling unwell? Can I bring you some water or tea?”

“I’m fine, Maria, thank you,” I said, straightening. “Just taking a moment.”

She nodded respectfully and continued up the stairs with her cleaning supplies.

The shrill ring of my phone cut through my melancholy. I fumbled to retrieve it from my pocket.

It was my sister. A spark of excitement replaced my sadness.

“Sim! I’m coming to New—”

My words died instantly as I registered the sound coming through the speaker. Hiccupped sobs and ragged breathing. Sounds I’d heard maybe twice in my entire life from my unflappable sister.

“Simone?” My stomach dropped as I pressed the phone closer to my ear. “What’s wrong?”