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Hannah looked at the picture without comprehending, at first.
‘Is this Amy?’ she whispered, something in the region of her heart bursting, shattering his internal organs with the force.
‘Yes. My wife.’
It was just three words, three tiny words, but they were wielded like a machete. Hannah lifted her face to Leonidas’s, her skin completely blanked of colour, so that even in the midst of this conversation, he felt a blade of concern.
‘Please sit down.’ He gestured to the bed, putting a hand on her elbow, but she wrenched out of it, moving away from him, dropping her gaze to the picture. Her fingertips shook and her eyes were filled with tears, making it difficult to focus properly. But she’d seen enough.
Clarity—a different kind of clarity from what she’d experienced last night—settled about her.
‘This is what you saw in me that night on Chrysá Vráchia, isn’t it?’
Leonidas was quiet.
‘If I didn’t look like this—’ Hannah lifted the photo in the air a little, at the same time she reached for her hair ‘—you wouldn’t even have noticed me, would you?’
Still, he was silent. What could he say? How could he defend this? The evidence was staring back at her.
‘Did you think of her when you slept with me?’ Her eyes pierced him, the hurt and accusation in them like a physical weapon.
‘No.’ The word came out gravelled, and it was as if he were being roused from a long way away. ‘You are similar, at first glance, but believe me, Hannah, I saw only you.’
She wanted to believe him, but pain was slashing her from all angles.
‘But she was in my mind that night. She was a heaviness inside me.’ He expelled a long, slow breath. ‘That island is where I met her. On New Year’s Eve, and it’s where I proposed to her. I go there every New Year because I’m a sadist and it’s my particular brand of torture. And this year, you walked in and for a moment, I felt like I’d slipped back in time...’
A sob filled Hannah’s chest. She was such an idiot! She’d been falling in love with this man, and he’d been living with a ghost.
She groaned, spinning away from him blindly.
He moved after her, gripping her arm, holding her gently, turning her around to face him. ‘But that’s not why I slept with you.’
His eyes held hers. Even when she wanted to blink away, she couldn’t. She was transfixed. Talk about sadism.
‘No?’ The word was just a whisper. She cleared her throat. ‘So why did you?’
‘I wanted you, Hannah. I’ve wanted you since that night. I’ve been tormented by how much I wanted you. And I’ve hated myself for that. When Amy was killed, I was furious. I swore I would never forget her, never move on with my life. I resisted any woman, any connection with anyone, until you. Even wanting you physically is a betrayal of what I promised myself, of what I owe Amy.’
His words were dragged from him.
‘I had a family, Hannah, and they were murdered because of me. Do you think I have any right to close that book and pick up a new one? To simply move on because you’re here and pregnant with my child?’
Hannah’s heart broke a little more, but for Leonidas this time. He was trapped by his grief, and she couldn’t fight that for him. He alone could forgive himself, could work out how to love Hannah and their daughter while still holding Amy and Brax in his heart.
Hannah looked down at the photograph of Amy, and felt a sense of kindredness with this woman, this poor woman. They had both loved the same man, and it bonded them in some way. Hannah handed the photo to Leonidas with an expression that was pure sympathy.
‘What would she want?’
He shook his head slowly. ‘Amy would want me to be happy.’
Hannah’s heart chirruped a little. She stepped forward, so their legs brushed, and she lifted her hands to his chest. ‘Then be happy, Leonidas. You’ll never stop loving Amy and Brax, and I don’t want you to. They’re a part of you, and I want them to be a part of our lives. I want to hear more about the little boy who made you laugh, I want to hear about him, I want you to keep him alive within me and one day his sister. You can’t live in stasis for ever. I’m here, and I love you, and I’m asking you to open yourself up to this. To look inside your heart and see that I’m there, too.’
She dropped her hands to his, finding his wrists and lifting his palms to her belly. ‘I’m asking you to marry me today because you love me, not because you’re worried I’ll be hurt, not because I’m pregnant. Marry me because you don’t want to live your life without me in it.’
He stared at her as though he were drowning, but she was too far away to help him.
He stared at her as though nothing and no one could ever help him. As though he didn’t want to be saved.
