shock as she looked at a woman who could have been her twin. “Because she looked an awful lot like me. And the resemblance cannot be by chance.”
“It’s not,” he said flatly.
“You wanted a baby with Elsa.”
“No.” Nikos muttered an oath and shrugged. “Yes.”
Her heart thudded hard. Her stomach heaved. “And you wanted to make love to Elsa, too.”
“No.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You might look like her, Georgia, but you are nothing like her.”
“And yet you loved her so much.”
“I didn’t—” He broke off, unable to deny it. “I wouldn’t have married her if I didn’t love her, but what I had with her is nothing like what we have.”
“Had. What we had.” Her throat worked. Her eyes burned. “There isn’t anything for us anymore, Nikos. There isn’t an us. There is just you and her and all your memories of her.”
“Georgia, listen to me. You are not Elsa. You are not twins. Yes, there is a strong resemblance but within minutes of you arriving here I knew you were nothing like her, and not just because your hair is lighter and your eyes have more gray in them, but because you are not her. She wasn’t strong like you. She wasn’t. Life was too hard for her. Love disappointed her—”
“Perhaps you disappointed her,” she interrupted. Just as you’ve disappointed me.
His dark gaze hardened, shuttering. “I am sure I did.” His voice had grown cold, too. “She took her life. She did it in front of me. Smashed the car into the side of the garage of our villa on Santorini. The car erupted into flames. I was able to reach in and pull her out just before the car exploded, but she was too badly injured. She died before the medics arrived.”
“How do you know she meant to kill herself? How do you know it wasn’t an accident?”
“She left me a note.” His jaw thickened. “And every year I get a letter in the mail, from her, telling me how much she hates me and blaming me for ruining her life.”
Georgia’s eyes widened. “How is that possible?”
“I think it’s just one letter that she wrote, but Ambrose, over on Amorgós, has made photocopies and he mails one to me every year on the anniversary of her death. The first couple years I made the mistake of opening the envelope and reading the message. Now I just throw them away.”
“What does the letter say?”
“Something along the lines of, ‘Nikos, you are a monster. I hate you with every fiber of my being. I hope you burn in hell.’”
“It doesn’t!”
“It does.”
“So why would you want this woman’s baby? How could you want to be reminded of her on a daily basis?”
“I already think of her on a daily basis. I have the burns and scars from the fire. I have the letters that come without fail every August 16. But this baby isn’t hers. The baby is mine. The future is mine. And she can’t take that away from me...and I won’t let her take you from me, either. I’ve lost too much to the past, Georgia. I’m not going to lose you.”
This was so much to take in, so much to process. Georgia struggled to sort through her wildly tangled thoughts and emotions. “Nikos, I don’t get this... I don’t. And I don’t want to hurt you, but it’s just so...strange. It’s not normal.”
“Lots of people use donors. Surrogacy is quite common.”
“No, I appreciate that you wanted to be a father and you found a way to do it on your own. I understand why you chose to go with a donor and surrogate, but why pick a donor that looks like her? Why not pick someone that makes you feel hopeful and optimistic? A donor that was the polar opposite of Elsa?”
“I did. I picked you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Georgia, you’re nothing like her. Yes, you’re blonde and have blue eyes, but that isn’t the reason I selected you to be the donor. I picked you for you...your mind, your spirit, your inner strength, your desire to support your sister. In your application you wrote about growing up in Africa as a daughter of missionaries. You had goals. Ambition. Courage. And that was who I wanted to be my child’s mother. I wanted a mother who had strength...who was a warrior. I wanted him to inherit your heart.”
I wanted him to inherit your heart.
Her father used to say that to her mother. I hope the girls inherit your heart.
Georgia closed her eyes and held her breath, tears forming behind her tightly closed eyelids. It was too much, all of this. Too much emotion and too much pressure and too much shock and disappointment.
“Say something, Georgia,” Nikos said quietly. “Talk to me, agapi mou.”
She gave her head a shake. She couldn’t talk. She didn’t want to cry.
“You are my light in the dark—” His deep voice cracked, and he dropped his head, his fist to his mouth. “Please,” he said roughly. “Please don’t shut me out.”
“I need to think. I need time.” She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t think much less feel when so close to him.
And then she was gone, heading back to her room.
Georgia left him in the library, escaping back to her room. She locked the door and then dragged a heavy chair in front of it for good measure. She didn’t want Nikos to come in. She couldn’t bear the thought of Nikos coming near her, not because she hated him—she could never hate him—but she needed to sort all this out and she wouldn’t be clear, wouldn’t be able to focus if he was near her.
This was important, too. This wasn’t just about her feelings and her life, but this was Nikos’s and the baby they’d conceived...not necessarily together, but still together.
Of all of it, the child was the most important.
He was innocent in all of this. He needed to be protected. Nikos was right. Georgia was tough. She was a warrior. She’d survive whatever happened next. But the baby would be helpless and vulnerable for years. The baby needed her to think and be smart. Logic was required right now, not emotion.
And logic told her that everything about her current situation was illogical. Irrational. She didn’t belong here. She needed to go.
But the idea of leaving Nikos now took her breath away because she knew that if she left, she would never be back.
She didn’t belong here. And the child?
She couldn’t answer that one yet. Couldn’t see that far ahead. The only thing she knew with certainty was that she had to go.
And that knowledge devastated her.
For
