“I think the same of her.”
Holly ate almost mechanically, sipping mostly water, not meeting his eyes. He wondered what she was thinking about. Strange—he’d never had to wonder that about any woman before. Usually they couldn’t wait to tell him. But Holly was different. Holly mattered—
Just that thought caused ice down his spine.
She mattered only because of his son. That was it. She’d never be more than the mother of his child to him. He’d never give her his heart. He couldn’t, because he didn’t have one.
The thought made him able to breathe again.
Biting her lip, Holly suddenly leaned forward. “I’m sorry about what you went through.”
How did she know about his father’s abandonment? Who had told her? He said stiffly, “What do you mean?”
Taking a deep breath, she said in a low voice, “I can’t even imagine what you went through last year. Being sick. All alone.”
“Oh.” His shoulders relaxed. He was touched that she suddenly seemed to care. It gave him hope. “It’s all right.”
“No. It’s not.” Looking down at her hands, she said, “I just remember how I felt in the doctor’s office when I found out I was pregnant.” She looked up, her eyes glistening. “And that was happy news. I can’t imagine going through what you did all alone. With no one at your side to help you through. To hold your hand.”
A strange emotion rose inside him. Ruthlessly, he pushed it away. It was in the past. He’d battled through. He hadn’t needed anyone then, and he didn’t now. He was too strong for that. But he wanted to protect his child—and his child’s mother.
Reaching over the table, he put his hand over her smaller one. His lips curved. “Does this mean you don’t want me dead?”
An answering ghost of a smile touched her lips. “I never wanted you dead. I just...”
Her voice trailed off as she looked away.
The sun had disappeared, and the moon was rising in the darkening night. Stavros polished off his glass of wine, watching her. Wishing he could take her in his arms.
Looking up at the dark sky, Holly pulled her hand away. “The stars are bright here.” She tilted back her head. “My dad and I used to look at the constellations together. He taught me a bunch of them. Orion.” She pointed. “The Big Dipper, Gemini.”
“He was an astronomer?”
She smiled. “A bus driver. Astronomy was his hobby. A hobby he shared with my mother.” Her smile lifted to a grin. “That made him want to learn even more about the stars to impress her. They used to go out driving at night, going outside the city to get away from the city lights. Until—”
Her expression changed and she looked down at her own still full wineglass.
“Until?”
“They went out on their twentieth wedding anniversary, and a drunk driver plowed into their car on the interstate.”
“I’m sorry” was all he said, which seemed the wiser choice than “love always ends with tragedy.”
“Don’t be.” She looked up, her eyes glistening. “My parents were happy, chasing their stars. My father always said loving my mother changed his life. She made him a husband. A father. More than he ever imagined he could be.” She wiped her cheek with her shoulder. “He always said she changed his stars.”
Her voice trembled with pride and love. And Stavros suddenly envied the man.
He poured another glass and took a gulp of wine. “You were lucky to have a father who loved you.”
“You aren’t close to yours.”
Stavros barked a short laugh. “I despise him.”
“You told me in Switzerland he was a good man.”
“No, I said he was honest. It is not the same. He is honest about who he is. A greedy, selfish monster.”
She stared at him, her face shocked.