by Ali Parker
I didn’t want to overwhelm Amaya with my family all at once, let alone my father, who would be beyond angry at what I had done. Maybe I could rush her out of the country for a few days, give him some time to cool off? I could pretend it was our honeymoon or something. No one would argue with that.
But I sat down in my chair and sighed deeply, knowing that wasn’t going to work. He would know what I was trying to pull. Our minds worked the same way, and he would put the pieces together and figure out I was making a break for it. If there was one thing my father hadn’t done, it was raise a coward. He would want me to face him, and I would be better off just doing that than trying to duck my responsibility for much longer.
I picked up the phone and dialed his number, figuring it would be a good plan to get his temperature before I saw him. It rang a few times, and I was about to hang up, writing it off as a missed call, but then he snatched up the phone. I could instantly hear his fury bubbling from all the way down his end of the line.
“Kristo?” he demanded.
“Dad,” I greeted him, keeping my voice as calm as I could. “How are things?”
“Oh, we can talk about that when I get back,” he threatened. “I’m arriving tomorrow with Karen, and we’re going to discuss exactly what you’ve done.”
“Honestly, take some time and relax. I know you’ll be tired—”
“Oh, no, you’re not getting out of this one that easily,” he cut me off. “I can’t believe I had to hear this from your sister. We’re going to talk about this as soon as I get home, you understand?”
“Sure,” I replied, already exhausted by the thought of the conversation. “I’ll talk to you soon, Dad.”
And I hung up the phone before he could say another word. I didn’t want to hear anything more from him, not yet, not now. I would deal with that tomorrow, and the least I could do in the meantime was get my shit in order, so he couldn’t be mad about the state of the business, at least.
I focused on work the rest of the day, knowing I had plenty to catch up on after my trip. First things first, I got the contracts discreetly drawn up by my lawyer so we actually had something on paper for her to sign. I had him sign a nondisclosure agreement and that was that. We were off on the right foot. She could sign them as soon as she arrived home, and we would be locked down for good. As though meeting my family hadn’t been enough to ensure that already.
I was surprised at how quickly the day went by, but then that was always the case when you were dreading what the next day would bring. I could imagine my father and his new wife barreling toward me over the ocean, the plane probably running on his barely-contained rage. It would have been funny if I weren’t dreading it so much. Damn, I really needed to get Cleo in hand and remind her I was the one running the business now and she should value my privacy first and foremost.
I stopped working at five. The best thing about working for yourself was you didn’t have to stick late around the office if you weren’t feeling it, so I headed home. I had sent Amaya out with my driver this morning, so he wasn’t there to pick me up, but that was fine. I had driven myself in, and I actually enjoyed taking myself home, spending the time trying to clear my head and take out whatever anger I had on the pedal and the brake instead of myself.
I wasn’t looking forward to seeing my father, and there was some part of me urging me to make a break for it. He couldn’t confront me if I wasn’t here. But hadn’t I done this in the first place because I was so determined to prove to him and my family in general that I was settled down and didn’t need their help finding anyone? I would undercut that if I hit the bricks as soon as they got pissed about it. Besides, Nonna liked her. Maybe my father would come around on her quickly, as well. Fuck, she even bore a passing resemblance to his last wife, and maybe some of those old memories invoked would work in my favor. Either way, I knew I had to face up to him. They might have been crazy, but they were my family, and what was I keeping Amaya around for but to please them?
I arrived home to an empty apartment, and I found myself a little disappointed. What was the point of having a wife around if she wasn’t there to greet you with a kiss when you came through the door? Well, that was what I got for marrying a career woman, I supposed. Oh, and for engaging in a sham marriage to fool my family. That too.
I realized my stomach was growling, and it suddenly hit me that I hadn’t had anything to eat all day. I had been too lost in thought in how to deal with my family to focus on food, work filling my head where a meal perhaps should have instead. I was too tired to cook, so I rooted through the takeout menus in my drawer until I came across something that caught my fancy, a pizza place not far from here that would probably deliver quickly enough to sate my hunger before it got too bad. I laid down the contracts for Amaya carefully on the table, called the pizza place, and ordered a selection, enough for the two of us. I almost forgot she would need something to eat when she arrived home as well. It was so strange, considering someone else’s needs as well as my own, and it would take a while to get my head around. I supposed she'd had to do that for years already, since her parents passed away, when she had stepped up to take care of her sister. I respected her so much for that, especially because her sister had such a strong personality and sense of herself. It couldn’t have been easy taking care of her on top of studying on top of providing for both of them too.
The pizza arrived twenty minutes later, and I grabbed the couple of steaming boxes from the delivery guy and handed him a generous tip. Heading back to the counter, I started to flick through the contracts as I pulled out a slice and started to tuck in. It was weird to think I would be getting my wife to sign these papers, the woman I was supposed to love, but I had no choice. No matter what odd connection I felt with her, she needed to sign these papers and make this relationship even more official than it already was.
A year, though. A whole year together. That was a long time. And I liked what I had learned already about her, so why not actually try to get to know her a little more? I took another bite of my pizza as I scanned over the contracts one last time. It might sound crazy, but I guessed I should get to know my wife.
14
When I came through the door, I was greeted by the smell of pizza.
“Mmm.” I closed my eyes and followed my nose, right to a pair of pizza boxes sitting on the counter in the kitchen. I couldn’t see Kristo anywhere, but I didn’t care. I was just home from a long day of work, and I needed something to eat and preferably something with alcohol in it to wash it down as well. I grabbed a slice and went for the fridge, pulling it open and examining everything inside. I couldn’t see anything I recognized, but I grabbed a bottle of beer with a label I didn’t know the origin of and popped it open. I didn’t really care. As long as I had something to take the edge off this day, I would be happy.
I shut the fridge and practically jumped out of my skin when I saw Kristo standing there. He was in nothing but a pair of boxers and a threadbare old shirt, fresh from the shower, hair a mess and somehow looking younger than he normally did.
“Hey.” He nodded to me, grinning at the beer in my hand. “Making yourself comfortable, I see?”
“Well, I had a long day,” I replied. “Forgive me if I need something to make it a little easier.”
He took the beer from me and took a long draft, and I just stood there and stared at him. It just wasn’t right that he could look so damn fucking good when he’d just rolled out of the shower, where I knew I would look like a drowned rat if I was to be caught coming out of the bathroom like that. But he looked like … I stuffed another bite of pizza into my mouth, hoping that would stem the almost comical hunger threatening to bubble up and over inside of me. He handed my beer back to me.
“Trust me, I feel you.” He sat down at the counter and grabbed another slice. “So, how are you doing?”
I took a sip of the beer and a bite of the pizza and eyed him for a moment as I chewed. I wasn’t sure what to make of this. I sti
ll barely knew this guy, and when he was sweet and thoughtful like this, it caught me off guard. Like I was expecting him to try and get something out of me as a result of this. Fuck, but that spoke a lot to what my relationships with dudes had been like before I met him.
“I’m okay,” I replied slowly. He was watching me as though trying to read something into the way I was eating, and I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. It had been a weird day, observing people noticing the ring on my finger and clearly just chalking it up to their own lack of attentiveness when they’d first met me. It was my first day out in the world as a married woman, and it was odd to see the ways in which people treated me differently whenever they got the chance.
“How was work?” he asked and then suddenly remembered something. “Oh, shit, sorry, yeah. I got the contracts drawn up today. They’re right here.”
“Fuck,” I muttered, putting down the beer as he picked up a few pieces of paper sitting on the counter next to us. “That’s them, huh? A whole year?”
“A whole year.” He grinned and touched my arm lightly, sending shivers down my spine that I did my best to ignore. This was all starting to feel so real in a way that it hadn’t before. Some wild part of me wanted to get to my feet and run out of there, but I had to stay. For Jolene.
“Let me get a pen, and I can sign them right now.” I got to my feet, but he caught my hand and guided me back down again.
“Can we just forget about them for a few minutes?” He made a face. “I know it sounds weird, but I want to actually … how about twenty questions, huh?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, cocking my head but sitting back down opposite him.
“I’ll grab a beer, and by the time we’re both finished with our drinks, we’ll know each other a little better, right?” he suggested, going to the fridge and grabbing a bottle. “Ask me anything. I don’t care.”
“You want to get to know me?” I raised my eyebrows. “Little late for that, isn’t it? We’re already married.”
“Yeah, but if we’re going to do this for a whole year, we might as well at least pretend we actually like each other,” he pointed out, a grin spreading across his face. He had a sweet smile, one that lit up the air around him, and it made my heart flutter when it was aimed in my direction.
“Fair enough.” I nodded. “What do you want to know?”
“Okay, I’ll start.” He took another swig and furrowed his brow. “How about, uh, what’s your favorite kind of movie?”
“Horror,” I replied at once, without thinking, and he burst out laughing.
“Horror?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Just not what I expected, that’s all.” He shrugged, still grinning. “What about you? Hit me with a question.”
“Same one.” I tilted my beer toward him, and he cocked his head and paused for a moment, lost in thought.
“Cheesy eighties movies,” he replied finally.
“Seriously?”
He nodded. “Yep. Streets of Fire, The Warriors, anything like that. You get the picture.”
“I thought your tastes would be a little more refined,” I teased.
“Well, maybe you could show me some cheesy eighties horror movies and refine me a little,” he suggested. I took another sip of my beer and eyed him over the top of the bottle. He looked relaxed, laid-back in a way I hadn’t seen him before now.
“Okay, what about books?” he asked. “My turn again.”
“Oh, that’s a tough one.” I furrowed my brow. As a librarian, it was difficult to come close to narrowing it down to one or even ten. “I don’t know. But I’ll always love Stephen King.”
“Right.” He nodded.
“Food?” I asked, gesturing down to the box in front of us. “I’m assuming pizza isn’t your favorite.”
“Nope, but it might actually come pretty close,” he admitted with a grin. “Uh, I don’t know. I don’t want to be stereotypical, but when I visit back home I always get gyros, so that has to be up there.”
“Any food you hate?” I continued interestedly, even though it wasn’t my turn to ask a question.
“Oranges,” he replied at once. “And I’m allergic to shellfish, so I guess them as well.”
“That sucks.” I cocked my head at him. “I thought all fancy people ate oysters all the time.”
“It’s more a problem for my dad’s side of the family,” he replied. “Not being able to eat shellfish is pretty much treason against Greece in their eyes.”
I laughed. I was surprised at how easy he was to talk to, how much I enjoyed the conversation as it flowed between us comfortably.
“And you drink German beer as well.” I held up the bottle I was sipping from. “So basically, you’re a traitor.”
“Basically.” He nodded, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watched me. “What about you? Your favorite food?”
“Ice cream,” I sighed, staring off into space. “My parents used to take me to this parlor outside of town. We’d go on the weekend together. And there was this chocolate-vanilla swirl cone with a cookie crisp outside, and that is my favorite food in the world.”
“And what about food you hate?”
“Pickles,” I replied so firmly that he burst out laughing.
“That was to the point.”
“Yeah, well, pickles can go die in a hole.” I waved my hand. “They’re the worst. Jolene loves them, and if I never have to see another one in my life, it’ll be too soon.”
The two of us became lost in conversation that took over most of the evening. I had been exhausted when I’d walked in the door just a few hours before, but I found myself buzzing with energy being the center of his attention like that. There was still something intoxicating about having him focus everything in on me, getting me higher than the beer ever could.
He told me as much as he could think of about himself, that he hated suits even though he wore them most days to the office, that he had been the fat kid at school, that he loved classical music even though he knew it was a cliché for someone like him. And I was happy to let spill everything I could give him about myself, the books and movies and television I loved, the places I’d always dreamed of traveling to. He was a good listener, and more importantly, he actually seemed to want to hear whatever was coming out of my mouth. He didn’t look at me with that impatience so many guys normally did, where they were waiting for me to shut up already so we could get to the sex part.
Eventually, I got up from the counter and stretched. It was dark outside, and I had work again the next day and needed to clean up and get to bed before I wound up staying up all night drinking with him.
“I should get some sleep,” I told him, a little reluctant. Part of me wanted to hang around a little longer, to see what other dark corners of each other we could shine light on, but I needed to get going.
“Thanks for tonight.” I gestured to the beer and pizza in front of us. It was funny. This place looked like the inside of a college kid’s apartment, not one that belonged to one of the richest and most accomplished men in the city.
“You’re welcome,” he replied and got to his feet to stretch. His T-shirt rode up a couple of inches, and I could clearly see his abs beneath his shirt. It took everything I had in me not to reach out and run my fingers over them. I swallowed and shook my head. That was just the beer talking. Fuck me, I should keep the alcohol to a minimum when I was around him, given what had happened the last time the two of us had gotten drunk together.
Still, I allowed myself something. I leaned in and planted a swift kiss on his cheek, heart racing as I did so, and he smiled as I pulled back.
“Sleep well,” he murmured, and I could see even in the dim light that his gaze had shifted down to my lips. I wanted him to kiss me, was silently urging him to lean in and kiss his wife. But he didn’t. He was far too much of a gentleman for that. He had been the one to tell me, after all, that anything that happened was totally up to me. If I wanted to hook up with him, I ha
d to be the one to make the first move. And even the beer couldn’t rub the sharp edges off those nerves.
I went to the bedroom and undressed, taking off my makeup in the adjoining bathroom and thinking about the night we’d just spent together. Now we knew each other a little better, at least. Not enough to be husband and wife, but it was something. And I found myself feeling a little less tensed-up about everything that was happening, something in my stomach uncoiling and relaxing for the first time since I’d laid eyes on him. Toby rustled in his cage, and I crouched down to say hello. He must have been getting jealous, now that he wasn’t the only man in my life.
15
“You really want to drive this thing?” I grimaced as I looked the car up and down. She nodded, and I could tell from the look on her face that there was going to be no arguing with her.
“We could get my car out of the garage and take that for the drive instead,” I suggested again, hoping she would take me up on it. We were already walking into a minefield, and the last thing I wanted was for my dad to be able to jump down my throat about arriving in such a shaky old thing.
“I haven’t had a chance to drive myself anywhere in days,” she replied. “We’re taking my car.”
“Should have left this thing in parking,” I muttered as I climbed in.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I replied. I didn’t want to rile her up, not today of all days, when I needed her firmly on my side. “Come on, let’s get going. I don’t want to be late.”
She pulled out of the garage, and I leaned back in the seat and tried to relax. It was nice of her to offer to drive, but I wanted to be the one in control today. I wanted to be the one who pulled everything together. Because, like it or not, today was the day she would meet my father.
We had managed to put it off for nearly a week and had found ourselves a nice routine in the process. She would get up in the morning, and I would have made coffee, and we would drink it together and chat about the coming day. And then she would arrive home later in the evening, and I would either have ordered in or cooked a little something for us, and we would sit and catch up on everything that had happened. Even though I knew it was a thin proxy of what marriage actually was, I had to admit, I was enjoying having her around, having someone to check in with day in and day out. She was smart and funny and interesting, and she admitted she had been starved for adult contact while she’d been taking care of Jolene all those years and appreciated having a grown-up to talk to in the evening. Speaking of Jolene, we had finally nailed down a date to take her out on. The facility had already booked out the van for the day we’d decided on, but we’d rescheduled. Amaya told me she was looking forward to it.
