“No, since men need to be invited to make a move. Women have the luxury of ‘throwing’ themselves without being accused of harassment.”
“You mean you feel harassed by women’s pursuit? You don’t invite it? Don’t allow it, at least?”
“You think I invited or allowed it? Just now?”
“No. I mean in general. Your reputation as a playboy is legend.”
“More of an urban myth. But if we’re trading misconceptions, I’d recite the incidents where you left lasting devastation in the ranks of the far more fragile male population.”
She almost snorted. “Men are more fragile? Which planet are you living on?”
“This one, which you evidently haven’t truly inhabited if you don’t realize that women are far more resilient than men.”
This gave her pause. “So the stories about you aren’t true?”
“I was never promiscuous. I never had the inclination.”
“But you had plenty of one-night stands.”
“According to reports? But contrary to them, I can actually count the times I’ve had sex since I became sexually active at fifteen. In almost twenty-five years, I haven’t had near as many women. What turned out to be mostly one-night stands for me wasn’t because I wanted a new flavor the next time, but because I didn’t find that single taste I wanted to have over and over. In fact, most of my sexual encounters were aborted because…the taste didn’t appeal to me.” He looked steadily into her eyes, wiping her mind clean of her preconceptions of him, installing the version he was relaying. “The other major reason no man should think of being promiscuous even if he had the indiscriminate taste to be so is that women are people. Very complex and complicated people.”
That made her hoot. “Oh, thanks for that piece of revolutionary thinking!”
His huff was sardonic. “I mean a promiscuous man thinks women are pastimes, thinks he indulges himself only with the no-strings variety. But there’s no such thing. Women always have strings and require effort and time. I never had either to spare. So I didn’t. I only ever accepted invitations from those who made it clear to me what those strings were, things I could give without infringing on my priorities.”
She hated hearing him talk about his sex life with such brutal honesty, yet was relieved it hadn’t been quite as she’d imagined. “Material things?”
“I offered gifts to anyone, not only sexual partners, who I thought would appreciate it, and because I can. None of them was a favor for sharing my bed. Though the bed sharing here is metaphorical. I never did sleepovers.”
“You did with me,” she whispered.
His pupils suddenly engulfed the silver of his eyes. “And I wanted to keep on doing it. But you skipped out on me.”
“I didn’t know what to do next. Thought I’d let you decide.”
There. She’d admitted her insecurity.
His face froze. “You could have left me some indication that you didn’t think it the biggest mistake of your life.”
She bit her lip to stop its trembling. “You could have called me, if even only to say thanks for the good time. I might have let you know I wasn’t against repeating it.”
Silence reverberated in the field of tension that engulfed them.
At last he exhaled heavily. “So we both made a mistake. And lost ourselves eighteen months.”
“I’m sure you found…alternatives during that time.”
He gave her an irritable glance. “What for? Whatever little satisfaction other women used to offer no longer existed.”
Everything stilled inside her.
“Are you telling me you haven’t…since me?”
“No,” he simply said. “Have you, since me?”
She bit her lip again. “Uh, if you didn’t notice, I was busy being pregnant and having a baby.”
That mind-reading focus of his sharpened on her face. “And those are the only reasons you didn’t…date other men?”
“No,” she admitted as straightforwardly as he had. “But I can’t believe it was the same for you.”
His gaze grew so deep, she felt it penetrate her marrow. And that was before he said, “Why can’t you? I found no point in having less than what I had with you. Not when you were the taste I’ve always looked for and never stopped craving.”
After that admission sent her spiraling into turmoil, as if by unspoken agreement to lay off the soul-baring discussions, they exchanged nothing of consequence for the rest of the day.
Then it was time to see Alex before his bedtime.
Back at her condo, they found Caliope and Alex getting along like a house on fire. Alex shrieked his welcome at their sight, rushed to slobber on each of them equally.
Aris and Caliope stayed far beyond Alex’s bedtime, and Aris again cooked for his “ladies.” Caliope could barely speak with shock when she saw him heading to the kitchen. Then with each mouthful of the heavenly soufflé he’d prepared, she kept saying how the foundation of her life had been irreversibly shaken.
Aris received her amazement with an enigmatic smile, one that had Selene itching to know just what stories it was hiding.
At one o’clock, Aris pulled Caliope up to leave.
They went into Alex’s room first. Selene’s heart twisted as Aris lovingly kissed the tiny sleeping replica of himself, almost asked him to stay with him, with her. With them.
But no matter how incredible the past two days had been, that step was far too premature.
At the door, Aris stood aside as Selene and Caliope hugged and planned future get-togethers, with Caliope gushing over the perfect day she’d had not only with Alex but with her, and most of all, with the oldest brother she was discovering anew.
He then let Caliope precede him to the elevators before waving at Selene and turning away.
She stared after him, disappointment detonating inside her.
But he took only one step away before retracing it, coming to stand before her, his hands bunched at his sides.
“No kiss good-night this evening, just so you don’t go to work feeling as bad as I did this morning and make people bankrupt or send them to prison.”
Relief crashed through her. He was holding back for her.
He suddenly groaned, took her hand, raised it to his lips. “Do I get another day, kala mou?”
And she could only whisper a tremulous, “Yes.”
They didn’t get another day.
All they got during the next two weeks were sporadic hours. She saw Aris when she finished work, if his own business released him from its shackles. Which it didn’t the next two weekends.