Doukas by Demetra Georgiou

Chapter 22

 

“Will you be all right?” Doukas asks for the umpteenth time.

Nodding, I close my eyes, burying my face deeper into the crook of his neck. Not even the melodious voice from the girl on stage can rid me of that horrible feeling of foreboding.

It’s a week after our engagement, and my fiancé is going on a business trip to Romania with one of the Royals. Only God knows what kind of trip it is. He’s going to be away for seven days. Thinking back to September and our brief breakup, I don’t know how I managed to be without him for so long.

“You don’t leave until tomorrow afternoon, so let’s not talk about it,” I plead, hoping I’m not going to be emotional again.

“Agreed,” Doukas concedes, tightening his arms around me.

Listening to live music is such a rare treat that I enjoy immensely. The girl on stage is amazing, and her nostalgic voice is making me fall in love with my Doukas all over again.

Sadly, the acapella performance is coming to an end, and a few minutes later, we’re walking hand-in-hand on the street.

“We might be lucky and see some snow this year,” I say.

“Lucky?”

“Yes, my grandma used to say that snow is happiness, and I agree. It’s not often we see it in the city anymore.”

“True. That reminds me. I spoke to my grandmother today, and she’s looking forward to meeting you,” he says with a sweet smile, showing me his dimples.

“Your grandma on your mother’s side?”

“Yes. She’s coming at Christmas to meet you. Actually, all my relatives are coming from Corfu to meet you. I thought we could have a gathering to meet each other’s family.”

“I don’t have many people on my side, but yes. I’d like that too.”

“You never talk about your mother. I know that your parents’ divorce wasn’t amicable, but I wonder how you feel. Perhaps inviting her to our wedding would be a good idea to reconnect with her.”

Mother. That word seems so alien to me. I rarely use it and not in a good context. “We aren’t on good terms. Haven’t talked in two years.”

“I don’t want you to tell me if it’s painful to recall.”

I shake my head. “There’s nothing to tell, really. Mom didn’t claim custody of me, and a few months after the divorce, she remarried. I was four, and she only saw me for a couple hours every two weeks. She never even introduced me to her new family. After a few years, her visits became less frequent until, one Friday evening, she blatantly told my father that if he didn’t give her an allowance, she wouldn’t be coming back.”

“Did your father refuse?”

“No, he never would. He was the most wonderful father. I did on his behalf and told her that I didn’t want to see her again.”

Doukas turns me to him and pulls me into his embrace. “How old were you?”

“Ten,” I say and wipe a tear that I never meant to have. “For years, I hadn’t heard a peep, and the day after dad’s funeral, she visited me with a lawyer. She demanded a share in the house and taverna, claiming she had covered some of the expenses while she was still married to dad. Can you believe her? On top of everything, she’s delusional” I can’t even try to hold my angry tears now. I didn’t know I’ve bottled up so many things, but the dam seems broken now.

Furrowing my head into Doukas’s arms, I’m comforted by his lips on my temple. “Shh, it’s all right. You’ve got me.”

His promise soothes my tumultuous emotions, and I nod. Taking his hand again, I start walking. Every so often, I feel his eyes on me, but I smile reassuringly. It’s the first time I revealed my mother issues to someone, and it’s somewhat cathartic.

“Giorgos’s winery is close to the mountains, and almost every year, it’s cut off completely by snow,” Doukas says after a while in a blatant attempt to change the subject. “I don’t like snow much, but I wouldn’t mind being isolated with you.”

“I wouldn’t mind that either,” I say and stop in front of him.

Kissing someone in the middle of the street just for the hell of it is new to me, but I don’t bring myself to care.

“Okay then, when I get back, we’re going to isolate ourselves somewhere,” he says, enveloping me in his arms.

Taking my hand again, he leads me to his car. We’re going to spend the night at my house, but when he’s away, I’ll stay at his. I find it strange staying there when he’s not, but when he brought it up, he seemed somewhat distressed, and I didn’t like that.

Harmonia and I have a whole lot of things planned out. For some reason, Alcaeus keeps emailing me recipes, so I’m fairly sure the Tremes are going to keep me busy.

 

 

Reaching my house, I let Doukas do his usual security check or whatever they call it, and after I get the all-clear, I climb the stairs to the main room.

“It’s freezing,” I observe and move towards the central heating panel.

“Normally, I’d say that you only have to enter a room for the temperature to rise, but in this instance, I agree with you.”

I chuckle and kiss him softly on my lips when my phone pings, and I reach into my pocket.

“Oh my God, she’s…impossible,” I say as I settle with my back on Doukas’s chest to read his sister’s email.

Ever since Doukas announced his impending trip to Romania, Harmonia and Icarus are going strong about it. Every day, Doukas is getting a dozen or so messages, emails, and calls informing him about one thing or another about Count Dracula.

“What is she saying now?”

“That she’s going to email Gucci to add garlic to your perfume. Also, she insists that if you doubt someone’s existence, you should have a selfie with him because a vampire is unlikely to show in it.”

“That brat, I’m going to have a word with her to stop pestering you.”

I shake my head at him. “Oh, but she anticipated that,” I say and pass him my phone to see for himself that his sister is threatening yet another lengthy email.

Doukas chuckles as he reads the email—or should I say essay—out loud. I don’t know where this girl gets all this information. It’s hardly standard Wikipedia stuff.

Now that the house got relatively warmer, nature calls, and I hastily excuse myself and head for my bedroom bathroom, but when I get out, Doukas isn’t here. Sighing, I start with my night routine, eager to get it over with so I can spend more time with him.

As I’m putting away my earrings, Doukas bursts into the bedroom. I don’t like the look on his face. He seems upset.

“Ria, who is Petros Karavis?” he demands, waving my phone in his hand.

“Petros?”

Why is he bringing up my meat supplier?

“Yes, fucking Petros. What unfinished business do you have with him?”

“What are you talking about?”

My question seems to set him off. “The guy’s emailing you this late about giving you another discount, and I’m not making any sense?” he shouts, thrusting the phone at me.

True enough, Petros has sent me one of his usual flirty emails. I can understand why it’s upsetting to Doukas, but it doesn’t mean anything.

“It’s nothing,” I say, shaking my head.

“Nothing? He said that he’d like to have you in his arms again. Have you fucked him?”

“What? No! We just went out once. Like a year ago. One date, and that was it.”

“Un-fucking-believable. Give me your phone. I’ll teach that fucker that he can’t mess with my woman.”

Okay, this has gone far enough. “You’re overreacting.”

“Give me the fucking phone, Ria.”

I clutch the phone in my hand, refusing to budge. Petros might be slightly overzealous, but in the end, he’s just an innocent bystander. “Stop it,” I screech as he makes a go for it.

He misses my hand by a breath, but his fingers find the sleeve of my shirt, ripping it out of place.

“Ria…”

“Get out,” I scream, shoving him hard. He doesn’t move, but I’m not going to back down. “Now.”

“Let’s calm down.” He sounds contrite. Tough!

“Now you want to calm down? Get the hell out of my house. Ever since I agreed to marry you, you’ve become a different person,” I shout, tossing my hand in the air, beyond exasperated.

Slowly he moves backward, and I match every one of his steps, wanting to see him out.

“That’s it? Is it about the wedding? That’s why the fucker has the nerve to email you now? Did you fuck him?”

I’m only human, I reason in my head and fling my phone towards him. Acting rapidly, he deflects, and the phone shatters as it hits the wall.

“Get out!” I screech once more.

Doukas is fully aware that this has gone too far, and thankfully he doesn’t press things further.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he says in a soft voice and heads down the stairs.

A few minutes later, the door closes behind him.

I sit on the top step, focusing on my torn shirt. As I’m trying to put it to rights, my eyes land on the ring on my finger—such a little thing, causing so much trouble.

Or perhaps it’s not the ring. Maybe Doukas and I have always been a disaster waiting to happen.