The Score (28 page)

Demyan was also a wanderer; unsettled, never at rest, and constantly searching for something—someone—to finally tie him down.

Had he found that?

Oh, Viviana hoped so. She desperately wanted to believe Gia was what he had been looking for.

“How long?” she asked quietly.

Anton cleared his throat behind her. She hadn’t acknowledged his presence when he entered the bedroom not long after she did. “Does it matter?”

Viviana lifted a shoulder. “Maybe.”

Despite the vagueness to her question, and his, she knew Anton understood. Nineteen years of marriage gave them the ability to speak few words and still get the point across. Not all of those years were easy, nor were they spent in a blissful, ignorant happiness, but they were the most real and true years of Viviana’s life.

She wouldn’t give them up for anything.

“Like this?” Anton asked, coming to stand at her side so he too could look down. “About a year.”

Viviana frowned. “Like this how, Anton?”

“She’s been engaged for a year, if that helps any.” It did, much more than Viviana wanted to say. Anton blew out a harsh sound, shaking his head. “Everything is a choice, Vine. Was it wrong for him to be chasing after a girl that obviously wasn’t his, for him to run around with her behind the backs of others, and to continue having that relationship when he knew it should have stopped? Yes, but I think he did what he had to.”

“Did we do something wrong?” Viviana asked.

Anton’s head whipped to the side, those blue eyes of his blazing with surprise. Viviana simply stared back at him. Life was beginning to weather her husband in the best of ways at his age. Lines creased around the edges of his eyes, relaxing him when he smiled. The faintest hint of salt was starting to pepper his dark hair. That rough, well-cut physique he always had never changed, though. Broad shouldered, definition in all the spots she could touch, and rock-solid from top to toe, he was still amazing in the physical sense. To look at, Anton was, without a doubt, the most handsomely distinguished man she could remember at his age. To touch and to love, he was the very best.

“I don’t know, did we?” she asked again.

“No,” Anton said. “If anything, we did well. We let him be tough if he needed. We let him be weak if he wanted. We taught him respect, and he gives it back to us in return.”

Viviana sighed shakily. After everything that had happened in their life, even the suggestion of being involved in an affair was not acceptable. They raised both of their children to have a healthy respect for the relationships other people had, to know it wasn’t for them to intrude on.

“Why like this, though? It’s not okay.”

“Because everything is a choice, like I said. Demyan had to start making different choices that were for his benefit, instead of ours, or hers. They may not have been choices we agreed with, but they were his to make. He wanted something, so he took it. That was all.”

“You’re not angry?”

Anton’s mouth quirked up in the barest ghost of a smirk. “Nah, not with him. God, he’s been watching that girl ever since he was two, you know? He couldn’t help she was so against the lifestyle he lived, or the things surrounding him. Demyan just …”

“What?”

“Waited her out, baby. Took his time to get what he knew would be his eventually, just like I did for you.”

Anton finished his statement by offering her a sentimental grin before saying, “Like any good man would. Sure, he took her when she wanted him to, when someone else had claim, but she let him do that. That’s no excuse, it’s still not right, and he’ll surely have to apologize to Ivan for doing wrong with his daughter, but he still waited her out. The way Gia wanted him to. Demyan didn’t make some grand gesture, he didn’t shame her like he could have when he had to watch her tumble off with somebody else. There was none of that. He let her be, and waited for her to come to him.

“That’s a good man, and we raised that man.” Anton reached out to grasp Viviana’s wrist, tugging lightly to draw her into his side. The warmth of his familiar, spicy scent soaked into her lungs like a drug as she buried her face into his chest and allowed herself to be suffocated in it. “So no, I’m not angry. I’m frustrated, tired, and my head hurts, but I’m not angry.”

Comfortable in the embrace, she asked, “How long have you known?”

“A while.”

Viviana should have been angry with him for that. Allowing something inappropriate to continue after he had knowledge it was happening wasn’t like Anton at all, but maybe because it was Demyan, he looked away.

“Do you think everything will work out?” Viviana asked, her voice muffled by Anton’s chest.

The chuckles he released rocked their frames. “Eventually. I talked to Ivan for a good hour.”

“And?”

“And nothing. She called the wedding off this morning, told her father exactly where she was going, though she didn’t say why specifically. Ivan pretty much worked it out on his own and he let her go. He didn’t have to, he could have called and gave me a heads up, but he didn’t. Like us for Demyan, he let Gia have her choices and make them how she deemed fit for her.”

Viviana was confused. “So, he’s not angry, either?”

It seemed like Demyan and Gia’s misdeed was overlooked.

“No, because Ivan just wants his child to be happy. He does want to speak with Demyan, and I’ll be there to mediate it all, but that’s small compared to everything else. If anything, Demyan owes him a frank discussion, and maybe an apology if Ivan asks for it. Our son knows his place, so rest assured he already expected all of this.”

Anton’s hands slipped in under Viviana’s chin, drawing her face away from his body so he could look down at her. With the pads of his fingers rolling along her jaw in tender motions, he leaned in close to skim his nose along the apple of her cheek. Softly, a hum built in the back of his throat, soothing away the residual emotions that were making Viviana weary and unsure.

“Look at our son,” Anton said, nudging his nose under her jaw. “See what we did, baby.”

Sure enough, when she stared out the window again to look down on her son, Viviana was filled with an unexpected sense of peace and finality. Demyan, with his hands cupping Gia’s smiling face, had tossed his head back in his laughter. Their legs had tangled together on the lounge chair that rocked with the movement of their bodies. It was sweet, though it wasn’t. Honest, though it hurt. And true, though they had a ways to go.

Love was never easy. Sometimes it played an awful, dirty game.

But, it was an awfully great thing to have, too.

Gia’s hand came down to smack at Demyan’s T-shirt covered chest, and the laughter outside abruptly stopped. Viviana couldn’t see her son’s face then, but she could see his lover’s. Gia wore an expression churned with happiness and chance, mixed heavily with waiting and relief. With a predator’s grace, Demyan was lifting his back off the lounger in one fluid motion, inadvertently pushing Gia back. When his body loomed over hers and Gia fisted her hands into his sides, Viviana turned away again.

Anton’s lips touched down to the side of her mouth, and Viviana smiled into the kiss. “We did well.”

“We did,” Anton said, his confidence and pride shining through strong. “I know he’s always been a little difficult, and God knows he’s made it tougher at times than it needed to be, but Demyan comes out on top. We did that. We get to sit back and enjoy it, now, that’s all.”

“Let’s let him have his story, is that what you’re saying?”

“As beautiful or as ugly as it may be, we have to let him have it and trust it will work out. Somebody let us have ours. All of our scores are settled, and we made it through just fine. Time to step aside, Vine. Think you’re ready for that?”

Viviana smiled, letting Anton’s mouth seek and explore the expanse of her neck. “Are you?”

“With you, always.”

About the Author

Bethany-Kris is a Canadian author, lover of much, and mother of two very young sons, two cats, and two dogs. A small town in Eastern Canada where she was born and raised is where she has always called home. With her two boys under her feet, a spouse calling over his shoulder, and animals sitting by her side, she is nearly always writing something … when she can find the time.

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