Buch lesen: «The Royal House Of Karedes Collection Books 1-12», Seite 11
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE day of the queen’s birthday celebration was an anomaly.
It was winter, when cool winds and rain often lashed Aristo, but this day dawned bright and warm.
Alex hardly noticed. He had not been home since he’d left Maria in the guesthouse. He’d returned the crown to the display case in the vault and, ever since, he’d been closeted with his brothers.
They were trying to come up with answers. Where was the missing diamond? Who had stolen it? When? How could the switch have gone unnoticed? Where did they start searching for the real stone? Most pressing of all, how could they keep it all a secret?
And it had to be a secret. They could not permit word to get out that the stone was gone.
On the simplest level, news like that would be humiliating. Far more unsettling were the possible political consequences. What if a Calistan sheikh somehow gained control of the diamond? Could he then twist the true meaning of King Christos’s legacy, join the Aristan stone to the one in the Crown of Calista, and claim the right to rule both kingdoms?
It was a real possibility, one that might well destroy Aristo.
He missed Maria terribly. Her smile. Her quiet strength. The feel of her in his arms. He phoned her whenever he could: even the sound of her soft voice was an oasis of calm in the middle of a storm.
“I miss you, glyka mou,” he told her softly.
She missed him, too. Terribly. But she understood that he was needed at the palace. Sometimes, she could forget her lover was a prince. Now, she couldn’t escape it. So, rather than burden him with her own feelings, she did what she thought was right. She said she missed him, too, but she was busy.
“Even if you were here, Alexandros, I couldn’t spend time with you. I have last-minute work to do on your mother’s necklace.”
“Oh,” he said, just that one word, but he sounded disappointed. She almost told him she was lying, that she missed him so badly she ached, that if he came through the door she’d toss everything aside and run into his arms…
But the last thing he needed now was a clinging female. Her Alex, along with Sebastian and Andreas, were like jugglers trying to keep a dozen balls in the air. Elissa had just arrived home. She and Kitty were busy helping their mother get ready for the party.
The king had come home from the hospital against the advice of his doctors. The heart attack had not done any damage, true, but they wanted other tests. Nonsense, said Aegeus. There were affairs of state to deal with. Tia’s birthday. All the media attention the celebration had brought. Scores of foreign dignitaries.
“I am fine,” he insisted.
Was he? The brothers thought their father looked ill.
“Actually,” Sebastian said, “he looks like hell.”
It was an accurate assessment. The king was pale. He seemed to have shrunk in size and there was a constant sheen of sweat on his forehead. And why did he never mention the missing diamond? That seemed strangest of all.
“If we can just get through the celebration tonight …” Alex said, and they all agreed. Get through tonight and then they could institute a real if subtle search for the missing stone.
Alex was going home to shower and change. “We’ll have half an hour alone, sweetheart,” he said when he phoned Maria, “but we can make the most of that half hour.” He told her how they’d do that, in explicit detail, and she gave a sexy little sigh and said she’d be waiting.
Smiling, he flipped his cell phone shut. He needed that thirty minutes, not just to make love to her but to tell her what he’d started to tell her three days ago. What he should have told her weeks ago.
He didn’t want her to leave him.
Once she gave the necklace to the king, once the king presented it to the queen, Maria would go back to New York.
He could not imagine letting that happen.
They were at the start of their relationship, not the end. In the last month, she had become part of him. She was—she was everything to him. Sometimes, when he held her close, he wanted to tell her—to tell her—
“Alex?” Andreas was hurrying toward him. “Change in plans. Last-minute stuff. Sebastian’s meeting with that guy from the BBC, I’m going to talk to CNN. Kitty’s doing a piece with The New York Times. Lissa was going to deal with Newsweek but Mother needs her, something about the flowers. Can you take her spot?”
Alex looked at his watch. “I have to get home, Andreas.”
“You mean,” his brother said, smiling, “you want to see Maria.”
“No, of course not. It’s just that my tux is at home …” Alex sighed. “You’re right. I do.”
“Well, you’ll see her soon enough. The party starts in a couple of hours. Let your driver pick up your tux, okay? If you don’t take over for Lissa, we’ll be up the creek without a paddle.”
Alex hesitated, but what choice was there? He couldn’t walk away from his duty, no matter what his own needs. He hoped Maria would understand.
She did more than understand. She said that it was just as well, she still had to do her nails and her hair. He said fine, he was glad it had all worked out, but he was lying.
What he’d wanted her to say was that she’d been longing for him. That it was agony to know they would not have half an hour alone.
He had no way of knowing that Maria was lying, too. She’d been counting the hours until Alex came to her, but she couldn’t tell him that. She needed the feel of his arms around her. And then there was her pregnancy. She had to find the right time to tell him about it.
But when?
He was, after all, a man with all the responsibilities of a life completely different from hers. He might see her as an exciting lover but that was all she was, all she ever could be…
Her throat tightened.
Maybe she wouldn’t tell him about the baby. Not just yet, anyway.
Not until the time was right.
The evening started with a flourish.
A dozen royal heralds played a trumpet fanfare at the top of the marble steps that led into the huge ballroom. A velvet curtain at the far end was drawn back and the queen swept in on the king’s arm. The hundreds of guests smiled and applauded her arrival. Every eye was on the radiant Tia.
Every eye but Alex’s.
He was waiting at the opposite end of the enormous room, waiting and watching for Maria. Where was she?
“Alexandros,” a voice whispered, and he turned and there she was, standing behind him, so gorgeous in a silk gown the color of fine sherry, her dark hair tumbling down her back in a profusion of waves and curls accented with tiny ruby and diamond stars he’d had sent to her, that the sight of her almost stopped his heart.
He didn’t think, didn’t hesitate but took her hands, drew her through the crowd and out to the terrace, took her in his arms and kissed her.
She melted against him.
“Maria,” he said softly, “kardoula mou, you are the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Her mouth curved against his. “And you, my prince, are the most handsome man on the planet.”
He kissed her again. “I hoped you’d be here before the celebration started.”
“The car,” she said, on a little laugh. “We had a flat tire. Don’t let on that you know, Alex. Poor Alastor felt awful.”
“As he should,” Alex said, but he smiled. “Never mind. You’re here now. That’s what matters. Did you give the necklace to my father?”
Maria nodded. “He seemed pleased with it. He said he’ll give it to your mother at midnight.” She hesitated. “Is he all right? He looks—”
“Terrible. I know. We tried to convince him to cancel but he refused.” Alex gathered her closer against him. “Let’s not talk about that,” he said softly. “Not when I have something important to discuss with you.”
Now was the time to say that she did, too.
“Maria.” Gently, he brushed a curl from her forehead. “I know you’re supposed to… I mean, I know we agreed you would …” Alex groaned. “I’m making a mess of this, glyka mou. What I’m trying to say is—”
“Your Highness! Prince Alexandros!”
An equerry was running toward them. Alex knew, before the man said another word, that the news was of his father.
“The king?”
The equerry nodded. “He’s been taken ill, sir.”
Alex ran into the ballroom. Maria hiked up her skirt and ran at his side.
“Where is he?”
“The throne room, sir. There’s a helicopter on its way. Your Highness?” The equerry, running with them, caught Alex by the sleeve just before they reached the throne room. The simple action was so unprecedented that it startled even Maria. “The king wishes to see Ms. Santos.” He swallowed audibly. “Alone.”
“Me?” Maria said, in amazement. “That can’t be.”
The Karedes family was gathered outside the closed doors of the throne room, faces white and puzzled. When Maria hesitated, the queen motioned her forward.
“My husband wants to see you, Ms. Santos.” Tia bit her lip. “Please. I don’t think there’s time to waste.”
“Go on,” Alex said softly, and touched his hand to her cheek.
The doors closed behind her with an audible click.
This was Maria’s first visit to the throne room. It was not as big as she’d imagined, the size, perhaps, of half her loft, but it was elegant. A red carpet stretched toward a pair of ornate chairs that stood on a raised platform but the chairs—presumably, the thrones—were empty.
“Here,” a weak voice said.
The king was alone. He lay on a crimson velvet sofa, head elevated on a blue silk pillow.
Maria moved slowly toward him. Her heart thumped. He’s dying, she thought, and, as if he’d read her mind, Aegeus struggled up against the pillow.
“I am not dead yet, Ms. Santos. Come forward.”
“Your Majesty. Your family is outside. Surely, you want to see them—”
“You were not supposed to learn that the diamond in the crown is false.”
Maria caught her breath. “You knew?”
The king’s face contorted. He groaned and Maria swung toward the door to call for help but Aegeus’s fingers wrapped around her wrist with the steely grip of command.
“My son is in love with you.”
She stared at him. “What?”
“Alexandros loves you, Ms. Santos. I’m not sure he knows it yet, but he does.” He drew a rasping breath. “But you must not return that love.”
Maria shook her head. “Your Majesty. Please. You’re very sick—”
“All the more reason for you to pay attention to what I say,” he said, a touch of the old sharpness edging his words. “You must understand that there is no room in a royal’s life for love.”
“Sir. This is hardly the time—”
“A prince is not born to his mother or father, Ms. Santos, he is born to his nation and his people. His life, from birth, is one of responsibility. Commitment. Obligation.” Aegeus took another labored breath. “Someday, my sons will marry. They will marry young women born of blood as royal as theirs, young women who understand what is expected of them.”
Maria sank to her knees beside the sofa. She could feel the sting of tears in her eyes and she blinked furiously to keep them from falling.
“I love your son,” she whispered. “And I understand he has responsibilities. I can help him shoulder them. I can step back when I must.”
“If you truly love him, you will give him up.”
“No. No! You can’t ask that of me. Or of him. If Alexandros loves me—”
“His duty is to his people. To his mother. To me. A prince who falls in love with the wrong woman can only destroy her. He can only destroy his nation and himself. Maria. If you love my son as you say you do, you will leave him. And you will not tell him the reason. Alexandros must never know you love him, or that you gave him up because you love him. You must walk away from him, from his life, and never look back.”
Tears streamed down Maria’s face.
“You ask too much of me,” she said. “You have no right!”
“I love my country and my people. And though you may not think so, I love my children.” The king took a long, agonizing breath. “Alex thinks you will make him happy but you won’t, Maria. Your love can only hurt him. You must, you must, set him free.”
“Your Majesty—”
The king jerked upright. His hand went to his throat; his breath rattled though a mouth gone wide, gasping for air.
Maria sprang to her feet.
“Help,” she shouted.
“Maria,” Aegeus whispered hoarsely.
“Someone, help—”
The door swung open. Footsteps clattered against the marble floor. And, as they did, Aegeus grabbed Maria’s hand again.
“Promise me,” he said fiercely. “Swear that you will do what you know you must.”
Weeping, Maria stared at the king’s stricken face—and knew he was right. She could not share Alexandros’s life. He was a prince and she—she was nobody.
“I swear,” she said.
A smile pulled Aegeus’s lips back from his teeth—and then he fell back against the pillows. His family surrounded him. The queen sank to the floor beside him, took his hand and began to weep.
“He’s gone,” she said, “he’s gone!”
Alex gently drew her to her feet. Sebastian put his arm around her. Andreas touched her shoulder. Kitty and Lissa bent over their father and sobbed.
And Maria did the only thing she could. The thing Aegeus had asked of her. The promise she had made him that she knew, in her heart of hearts, was right.
She slipped from the room, from the palace.
From Alexandros’s life.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A MONARCH’S death left behind a void that must be filled quickly for the safety and stability of the kingdom and its people.
At first, all was confusion.
Despite Aegeus’s illness, his death had been sudden. The king’s private physicians tried every possible means to revive him but to no avail. The Karedes family clustered around the king’s lifeless body; the palace, filled with guests for the queen’s birthday celebration, buzzed with rumors. Andreas comforted his sisters. Sebastian, who as eldest son would, within hours, be named the Prince Regent, was immediately surrounded by guards whose duty it was to protect him, especially in times of turmoil. Alex held his mother in his arms.
Through it all—the loss of his father, his mother’s tears, his sister’s sobs, the stunned reactions of his brothers and his own shock—through all that, Alex found himself looking over the heads of those who’d crowded into the room. Where was Maria? He needed her. And, surely, she needed him. She’d been alone with his father at the moment of his death.
She needed his comfort. His arms. And he, God, he needed her.
A reporter and a couple of photographers had somehow slipped into the room; two of the guards were hustling them out. Had those guards, in error, forced Maria aside?
He was desperate to find her but Tia was distraught. He couldn’t leave her, not until she was calmer. He told himself not to worry. His Maria was smart. She was resourceful. She’d find his car, have his driver take her home. Or she’d wait for him in a quiet corner of the palace.
Soon, he’d be alone with her. And he’d tell her what he now knew had been in his heart for weeks. He loved her. He adored her. He could not imagine life without her.
He didn’t just want her to stay here, on Aristo, as his lover.
He wanted her to become his wife.
One thing about death, he thought as he led his mother from the room. It had a profound way of making a man see what really mattered.
And what mattered, the only thing that mattered, was Maria.
In the face of a nation’s grief and loss, tradition became its solace.
Aegeus would lie in state for three days. The Accession Council would meet to formally name Sebastian the Prince Regent, though by tradition coupled with the decades-old decree of Christos, there could be no coronation of him as king until the missing half of the Stefani diamond was returned to the Aristan crown. The Privy Council would meet, too, so its members could certify the succession declaration.
Andreas took on the coordination of those meetings. Sebastian immersed himself in policy conferences. It fell to Alex to finalize plans for the royal funeral. And yet, as he raced home just before dawn, his thoughts were not on any of those things. He was consumed by worries over something far more important.
Maria.
She hadn’t been waiting for him in the palace, not in the public rooms or in the royal apartments. His driver was waiting, in the courtyard, and in response to Alex’s questions the man could only shake his head and say that he had not seen Ms. Santos.
Alex checked his cell phone. Again. He’d already done that a dozen times but maybe, now, she’d left a message… She hadn’t. He’d phoned her endlessly and been connected to her voice mail, where he’d gone from leaving messages telling her he would break away as soon as he possibly could to increasingly terse ones asking her to contact him.
By the time he reached the house on the bay, he was frantic.
“Maria?” he shouted as he burst through the door. “Maria?”
No answer. He ran up the stairs to his bedroom, flung open the door. The room was dark. Empty.
“Maria,” he said again, and flew down the stairs, almost stumbling over Athenia who stood at the bottom wearing a housecoat, her hair in curlers.
“Your Highness. Our hearts are filled with grief. We are all so sorry for you—”
“Yes. Thank you. Where is Ms. Santos?”
Athenia bit her lip. Shook her head. Alex cursed in frustration—and then breathed a sigh of relief. He knew where Maria would be. In the guesthouse. He knew her habits. She was probably losing herself in work.
But the guesthouse, Maria’s workshop, stood as silent and empty as his bedroom. Something about that silence made his heart rise in his throat. He ran back to the main house, took the steps two at a time, flung open the bedroom door, this time switched on the light…
And knew, instantly, that Maria was gone.
The room felt cold. Not just empty but barren, as if the very life had been stripped from it. He went to the dressing room, stepped inside. Her suitcase was gone. The beautiful clothes he’d bought her hung from the racks like mournful reminders of the past.
“Maria,” Alex said, bewildered. What the hell had happened? Where was his Maria? He turned in a slow circle—and saw the envelope propped on the bed. “Alex,” it said, and that it didn’t say Alexandros was a statement in itself.
He picked it up. Opened it. Withdrew the note inside and read it. It was brief. She was, she said, terribly sorry for his loss. Though she’d only met his father a handful of times, she’d come to respect him. She’d wanted to tell him that herself but…
The “but” made Alex’s belly knot.
But, she wrote, she knew that the king’s death meant Alex would be immersed in the duties of a prince. She saw no reason to burden him with concern for her, especially since she was returning to New York anyway, now that her duties here were completed.
Her duties here.
He looked up, his face a mask of disbelief. Was that what it had been? Had sleeping with him been part of her duties? Was leaving him such a relief that she couldn’t have waited to say goodbye?
He read the note again. And again. Then he let out a roar of anguished rage from a place in his soul he’d never known existed, and tore the note into a dozen pieces.
A state funeral was not a simple thing.
Fortunately, plans for events like this had always existed. Except for the addition of a motorcade, those plans had not changed much since the time of the Crusades.
Aegeus lay in state for three days while his people, friends, relatives and foreign heads of state all paid their respects.
The Sheikh King Zakari Al’Farisi represented the island of Calista.
Zakari, a proud and ruthless man, made all the appropriate comments to the press; he offered Tia his polite condolences.
In private talks with the Karedes princes, however, Zakari’s words were probing as well as troubling.
He seemed to know that Aristo’s half of the Stefani diamond was missing.
Though Alex, Andreas and Sebastian had met with their council and agreed the mystery had to be kept secret until it was solved, that decision was—as Andreas wryly put it—pretty much the equivalent of shutting the stable door after the horse had been stolen.
Clearly, the news had reached Calista. And that was dangerous. Since Sebastian could not be crowned without the true diamond, Alex’s worry—that it might fall into the wrong hands and a Calistan prince could take the Aristan throne—seemed more and more plausible.
Added to concerns of state were those of family. Lissa and Kitty took their father’s death hard and clung to Andreas. Tia, shocked by her loss, claimed Alex for solace and support. Sebastian, now the Prince Regent, was, by custom, designated to lead them all through the necessary formalities.
Alex had no time to think, or told himself he had no time for it. But at night, when the hands of his watch seemed to slow to a crawl, he lay awake in his palace rooms, despising Maria, despising himself, telling himself what a fool he’d been to have imagined himself in love with her because he certainly had not loved her.
Of course, he hadn’t.
He counted down the days until the formalities of mourning would end. He had work to do, investors to meet with and reassure that nothing would change on Aristo. He was also fully involved in organizing the search for the missing diamond. Once the mourning period was behind him, he’d be far too busy to think about Maria Santos.
A lie.
Life slowly returned to normal. He was busy from early morning until late at night. And he thought about her all the time.
What he needed was closure, to tell her, to her face, that she had meant nothing more to him than he had obviously meant to her, but that would mean seeking her out and he wasn’t about to lower himself to that.
Strangely, no one in his family asked about Maria until one morning, when his mother phoned and invited him to breakfast. He was incredibly busy that day but he knew Tia’s grief was still new; nothing would have made him refuse her request.
They chatted briefly about nothing special—and then, without warning, Tia asked why Maria had gone.
“Why wouldn’t she?” Alex said, with a shrug. “She finished your necklace. Her work was over.”
“I’m not talking about her work,” Tia said. “I’m talking about the feelings you and she have for each other.”
“You’re wrong, Mother. We had no—”
“Alex. I’m your mother. I’m also a woman. I know love when I see it. Maria and you were in love. So, why did you let her go?”
Alex thought of half a dozen answers, all of which would have worked—and, instead, found himself speaking the truth.
“I didn’t,” he said in a low voice. “She left me. She enjoyed—she enjoyed our time together but—”
“Nonsense. She loves you. I saw it. Everyone saw it.”
“The hell she did!” Alex shot to his feet. “She left the night Father died. What was I supposed to do? Go after her? Walk out on my duties to try and convince her not to leave me?”
“Your duties,” Tia said softly. “Yes. Such things always get in the way.” She looked up at him. “Had you ever told her you loved her?”
His mouth thinned. “No.”
“Perhaps,” she said carefully, “perhaps you should have.”
Yes, Alex thought, he should have. He’d known the truth, in his heart. Why hadn’t he faced it sooner? Now it was too late.
“It’s never too late,” his mother said, and he realized he’d spoken aloud. “Alexandros. Love is a precious gift. Don’t throw it away.”
“How do you know that, Mother? I know you respected Father but I don’t believe you truly loved him.” Alex drew a ragged breath. “Hell,” he said softly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
“You spoke the truth, my son. I didn’t truly love Aegeus, nor did he truly love me.” The queen’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “And that’s exactly the reason you must not let love slip through your fingers, Alexandros. Even a royal is entitled to happiness.”
The New York weather was harsh and uninviting.
Snow, slush, sleet and grey skies were daily companions. The sun seemed reluctant to put in even a cursory appearance. The weather was a reflection of Maria’s despair. She was lonely for Alexandros, for Aristo, for the happiness she had found with him there.
It was good that she was busy. Shops that had not wanted any part of her in the past clamored for her designs. L’Orangerie headed the list.
And, well, yes, there was one other good thing. A miraculous thing that had, at first, terrified her and now made her heart sing with joy.
A visit to her doctor had confirmed that she was pregnant. She was carrying Alex’s child. A little girl, Sela had said, smiling.
“Morning sickness at the beginning of your pregnancy. And look how high you’re carrying. Absolutely, a girl.”
Maria didn’t believe in the old superstitions but it didn’t matter. She would love her baby whatever the sex, and she would name it for Alexandros even though he was gone from her life.
He, and Aristo, were moving forward. Sebastian was the Prince Regent, though there was no mention of the missing diamond. She’d followed the funeral on TV. The royal family had looked saddened but composed. Alex had been his mother’s strong, handsome escort.
Just seeing him had made Maria’s throat constrict.
She would never stop loving him.
But she would have his daughter to love. It saddened her that her baby would never know her daddy but when Alexandra was old enough, she’d tell her what a fine man he was, what a loving man, what a good man—and never mind that he hadn’t called or written or tried to find out how she was, where she was…
“Maria? You okay?”
She looked up at Joaquin, working at the end of the bench. He and Sela had been wonderful. Though they knew about the baby, they hadn’t asked questions. A good thing, too, because if they had, she might have broken down and wept.
Tears filled her eyes and dripped onto the wax she was working.
“Maria?”
“Yes,” she said briskly, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes and flashing a smile, “I’m fine. I just—I think I got a bit of wax in my eye.”
“Want me to do that mold?”
“No. No, thanks. I’m almost finished. You know, it’s getting late. Why don’t we call it a day, hmm?”
“Well, if that’s okay… I promised Sela I’d pick up some stuff from the Chinese market on the way home.”
“Better get going, then, before the market closes.”
Joaquin nodded, cleaned up his end of the workbench, then put on his coat. He kissed her cheek and she managed to keep the tears from building again until the door closed behind him.
Why was she weeping? She’d wanted to end things cleanly. To keep Alex from contacting her. And she’d succeeded.
She just had to stop crying every five minutes. Sela said it was her hormones. It wasn’t. It was her inability to accept that she would never lie in her lover’s arms again, but she’d sooner have died than admit that to Sela or even to herself because it wasn’t true, it wasn’t true, she had a wonderful, fulfilling life now and—
Someone knocked at the loft door.
Maria grabbed the edge of her work-apron and wiped her eyes. Had Joaquin forgotten something? Why didn’t he use his key? Unless it was a reporter. They were still driving her crazy, hoping for an interview about life on Aristo and the death of its king.
The knock came again. She sighed, smoothed down her apron, fixed a polite smile to her lips and marched to the door.
“Yes?” No answer. Maria rolled her eyes. “Look, I’ve said I won’t do interviews so whoever you are—”
“Open the door, Maria.”
Her heart leaped. No. It couldn’t be.
“Maria. Did you hear me? Open this door.”
She shook her head, as if Alex could see her. “Go away,” she said in a shaky voice.
“I’m not going anywhere. Either you open this door or I’ll break it down.”
He would, too. He was angry—she could hear it in his voice, and she remembered what his anger had been like that night he’d first come here.
Bam! The door, heavy as a chunk of steel, shuddered under the blow.
“I don’t want to see you.” Maria licked her lips. “Joaquin is here. He says—”
“He says I’ve been a fool. And he’s right.”
Maria stared at the door. “You talked to Joaquin?”
“Just now. On the stairs.” Alex’s voice softened; she had to put her ear to the door to hear him. “He’s been a good friend to you. You’re lucky to have him to turn to. Maria, glyka mou, let me in.”
She swallowed hard. Then she undid the bolt and opened the door.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” she started to say, but the sight of her Alexandros, so tall, so powerful, so much the lover she remembered, stole the words away. To her horror, her eyes flooded with the tears she’d fought only minutes before. She couldn’t let him see her cry, she couldn’t, she told herself, and she slapped her hands against the door and started to push it closed.
Alex was too quick. He jammed his shoulder between the door and its frame and pushed. Maria staggered back, the door swung open and he stepped into the loft.
He’d had plenty of time to consider how he would handle this meeting. The flight from Aristo had taken longer than usual. Bad weather had meant putting down at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris for a few hours. Just as well, he’d thought. The delay had given him extra time to decide what to say.
He’d come up with a list of questions. A little speech, though he tried not to call it that, in which he’d let Maria know that a woman did not simply walk out on him without explanation.
He would be cautious in expressing his feelings, never mind his mother’s insistence that Maria and he were in love. The sad truth, as Tia had admitted, was that his mother didn’t know a damned thing about love. If Maria loved him, why had she left him?
