Page 35 of Slightly Married (Irresistible #2)

T he financial projections filled my screen as I cross-referenced them with the quarterly reports. The Athens office was quiet this late in the afternoon, most employees having departed hours ago.

“The manufacturing cost increases are going to cut our margins by three percent,” Dimitrios said from across the conference table. “The board won’t be pleased.”

“That just kicks the problem down the road,” Aris countered from the video screen. “We need structural solutions, not accounting maneuvers.”

I reached for my coffee, but instead of focusing on the numbers before me, my mind suddenly filled with the image of Kayla at breakfast this morning. Her natural hair had finally been freed from the braids she often wore.

My fingers had itched to touch the wild curls framing her face. I’d watched her from across the table, mesmerized by the simple act of her tucking a strand behind her ear as she scrolled through her phone.

“Kos?” Dimitrios prompted.

I blinked, forcing my attention back to the screen. “We’ll renegotiate with suppliers,” I continued. “I’ve already drafted revised terms.”

As I outlined the specifics, I found myself checking my watch, calculating how soon I could leave. Kayla would be returning from visiting her sister soon, and the thought of another evening passing with things as they were was suddenly unbearable.

Tonight, I would speak to her before she retreated to her bedroom, before another day ended with us living as polite strangers under the same roof.

“Already suggested that,” Dimi interjected. “The operations team is claiming—”

“I don’t want excuses,” I interrupted. “The fiscal report is due next week, and I won’t present diminished profits to shareholders without a clear recovery plan.”

“Agree with Kostas on this one,” Aris said. “But we’ll need contingencies if material costs don’t stabilize.”

“I’ll have three scenarios prepared by morning,” I confirmed, making a note.

Living under the same roof while remaining strangers was slowly killing me. We talked about nursery colors, baby furniture, and potential nannies’ credentials, but never about us.

The distance between us would end tonight. I had honored her request for space these past months, wary of causing her stress during pregnancy. But with our daughter’s arrival imminent, I needed to make my feelings clear.

I pulled out my phone and opened my email. The draft I’d written months ago still sat there, unsent. The words had poured out of me that night, more honest than anything I’d ever written, yet I hadn’t had the courage to send it.

My thumb hovered over the send button. Words like these weren’t meant to be delivered through an email. I should tell her in person, look into her eyes as I confessed these feelings.

Yet something pushed me forward. What if she wouldn’t give me the chance to speak? What if she retreated to her room again tonight before I could say these things?

I pressed send before I could change my mind. If after reading the email and our talk tonight she wanted to try again, I’d spend every day ensuring she never regretted giving us a second chance.

Otherwise, I’d respect her decision, and we’d find a way forward as parents, if not partners. But I couldn’t live another day under these strained conditions.

“Are you even listening?” Dimi asked.

“No,” I admitted. “But I will tomorrow. Tonight, I have something to do.”

Aris cleared his throat. “You’re not invited.”

“Not invited to what?” I frowned, gathering my papers.

“Kayla’s baby shower.” Aris raised an eyebrow at my obvious confusion. “It’s women only.”

“I had no idea.”

“Neither did I,” added Dimi.

“It was a surprise. Simone organized it with Domma.” Aris shrugged. “I assumed you knew.”

“We obviously didn’t,” said Dimitrios. “How do you know? The women tell me everything.”

I didn’t have to ask how Aris knew about the shower. He’d been spending considerable time with Deanna, Tia’s mother, since last Christmas.

No one in the family except Kayla and me knew about their relationship—stemming from that restaurant sighting the previous year. But I wasn’t concerned about my brother’s personal life. My priority was Kayla.

“Where is this shower being held?” I asked, already reaching for my jacket. I hoped it wasn’t at Yiorgos’.

“Thalassía.”

I froze. “You’re certain?”

“Positive. Mother had me fly in Lauren on one of the jets, and they used one of the yachts to get to the island. Irida mentioned the views would be perfect for pictures.”

Thalassía.

Where I’d specifically asked Kayla not to go until after giving birth. Where the nearest hospital was forty minutes away by boat in good weather. Where my thirty-eight weeks pregnant wife was now celebrating with no medical professionals nearby.

“I’m taking the helicopter on the roof,” I said to Dimitrios, already heading for the door. “I need to get to the island.”

“Kos,” Aris called after me. “Don’t crash the party. The women have been planning this for weeks.”

But I was already gone, my mind racing faster than my feet as I calculated the quickest route to my wife.

As the helicopter touched down, I surveyed the island, momentarily stunned by its transformation. The landscapers had worked magic. Native flowers spilled down stone terraces, and olive trees cast dappled shadows across new pathways, all framing the blue expanse of the Aegean.

This island had been my reason for marrying Kayla a year ago. Now, despite its value and my family’s triumph at reclaiming it, the land seemed trivial compared to what I’d found in Kayla herself.

The rotors slowed as I unbuckled my safety harness, mentally rehearsing what I’d say to Kayla. I wouldn’t interrupt her celebration, just ensure she returned to the mainland before nightfall.

I stepped onto the helipad. Thirty-eight weeks was too close to her due date to risk going into labor here, regardless of how beautiful the setting was for her party.

Simone ran toward the landing pad, hunched unnecessarily though the blades were stilled. Her expression rang alarm bells in my mind. Something was wrong.

She stopped abruptly. “You’re not the medevac,” she panted.

My blood went cold. “What happened? Is it Kayla?”

“She’s in labor.”

My worst fears were confirmed in three simple words. I bolted past her, my shoes slipping on the gravel before I caught my balance. The white villa appeared ahead. I couldn’t breathe.

I slammed through the front doors, barely registering the pastel balloons tied to chair backs, the half-assembled mobile of stars and moons dangling from the ceiling fixture, and gift boxes wrapped in shimmering paper stacked on a table adorned with tiny bootie centerpieces.

I strode through the entrance hall, dodging a tower of diaper packages playfully arranged to resemble a cake. Pink and gold streamers hung from the archways, and a banner reading ‘Welcome Baby Girl’ had partially detached from one wall, hanging at an angle matching my tilting world.

“Someone call K!” Kayla’s voice carried from the grand salon, tight with pain. “I can’t have the baby without him.”

“We’ve been trying.” Tia’s voice. “He’s not picking up.”

“You don’t understand. He needs to know—” Her words dissolved into a moan that cut through me.

I strode into the room where women huddled around the sofa. They parted when they saw me.

“The baby is coming,” my mother said.

I moved to the edge of the sofa, suddenly unable to feel my limbs. Kayla lay with her knees bent, her sundress twisted, hair spread across a pillow. Her face was flushed, with sweat on her skin. Her eyes were glazed with pain.

“Michaila.” I kneeled beside her, taking her hand.

“K?” She sounded surprised to see me through her pain.

“I’m here,” I said, forcing steadiness into my voice despite my nerves. I brushed a curl from her forehead. “I won’t leave you.”

“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “I didn’t think she’d come today of all days.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” I slid one arm beneath her shoulders, the other under her knees. “I’m taking you to the mainland. We’ll have you at Athens General in—”

“No!” Her fingers gripped my shirt. “I can’t go!”

“You can. We’ll be on the mainland in—”

“I need to push.” Her eyes locked with mine. “She’s coming.”

“The emergency responder wants you to check how dilated she is,” Irida called from behind me, phone pressed to her ear. “You need to—”

“I know what to do.” My voice was clipped, not from irritation but concentration. The countless pregnancy books I’d devoured over the past months would serve me well today.

I moved to kneel between Kayla’s legs and lifted her sundress. What I saw knocked the breath from my lungs. Our daughter’s dark, wet patch of hair was visible.

“I can see her head,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. I looked up at Kayla, finding her eyes open. “She’s coming, Michaila. She’s really coming.”

“Kostas, they’re saying you need to wash your hands,” Irida relayed, her voice tinged with urgency. “And we need towels. Clean ones.”

My mother rushed to retrieve towels from the linen closet. Lauren appeared at my side with a basin of warm water and soap.

“Here, Kos,” she murmured, holding the basin as I scrubbed my hands.

Simone positioned herself near Kayla’s head, murmuring encouragements and wiping her brow with a damp cloth.

I returned to Kayla, taking both of her hands in mine. “You’re going to deliver our daughter right here on this island that brought us together. And I will be with you every second of it.”

Kayla’s grip crushed my fingers as another contraction seized her. “I need to push,” she gasped.

“Then push,” I urged as the contraction built. “Push with it, my love.”

Kayla bore down with fierce concentration, her breath releasing in a hum. The baby’s head emerged further. Dark hair was plastered against delicate skin.

“Perfect. Breathe now,” I coached as the contraction eased. “Just like in Lamaze.”

Kayla panted, gathering strength. When her body tensed with the next contraction, she gripped my arm. “It’s coming—”