Turning to me, she asked, “Are you happy with everything, Thano?”
I wanted desperately to say no, I wouldn’t be happy until she was in my arms.
“Totally. Everything looks amazing.”
Pussy.
The front door flew open and instantly I felt my chest tighten when I heard my mother’s voice. She rushed into the kitchen followed by my grandmother, Aunt Maria, Sophia, and finally my father.
Turning to look at Kilyn, I pinched my eyebrows together in confusion when I saw the horrified look on both her face and Claire’s.
My mother came to a stop and looked directly at Kilyn.
It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Oh, and maybe my heart about to pound right the fuck out of my chest.
“Kilyn! Claire! Come . . . come, come and give me a hug.”
My jaw dropped to the ground as I watched my mother engulf both girls in a hug.
“You look beautiful, Kilyn.” Turning to my grandmother, she asked, “Doesn’t she look beautiful, Yiayia.”
Oh, no. No. No. No.
My grandmother walked up and spit on Kilyn, causing her to let out a small yelp and jump back.
“Did she just spit on her?” Blake asked in a whispered voice from behind.
Slowly nodding my head, I replied, “Not really. They make the sound of spitting.”
“Tell me that’s a Greek thing, dude, or I’m not sure how I feel about your family’s treatment toward Kilyn.”
I couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. “Totally a Greek thing.”
Blake chuckled and said, “Priceless. Look at their faces. Kilyn looks like she’s afraid to move.”
My mother held onto Kilyn as she asked, “So, are you practicing on that dish?”
Dish?
Kilyn risked peeking over to me before her eyes snapped back over to my mother. “Um . . . I am, actually.”
“Ah . . . see, even the Irish are smart when they want to be. You drink too much, but you can be smart.”
What in the fuck?
“Mama, um, how . . . do you know . . . wait . . . what’s going on? What dish are you talking about?”
My mother waved me off with her hands. “I want to taste your honey cake when you have it perfected. Now, I want to see this house Kilyn decorated for you, Athanasios. Show your family around.”
Oh, dear God. My mother sought out Kilyn. Why? Was she forcing Kilyn to cook Greek food? I knew I should not have mentioned her to my mother. She used her evil ways to track her down.
“Athanasios? Are you going to stand there like a bump on a log or are you going to show me the house?”
“You’ve seen it,” I mumbled.
Narrowing her eyes, my mother took a step closer to me as my father cleared his throat.
“Here we go,” he said under his breath.
“Is that how you’re going to treat your Mitera after I climbed the mountain to see your little project?”
My face constricted. “Climbed? You drove up here with Dad.”
“And what about your Yiayia? She’ll die before she ever gets back up here again.”
My grandmother nodded her head. “I will. Who is hungry? I have some pita bread in my bag.”
Everyone turned and looked at her as she pulled out the bread.
Blake lifted his hand, “Oh! I’ll have some. I love pita bread.”
Yiayia smiled and handed the bread to Blake as Claire stared at him with a look of pure shock.
Pushing my hand through my hair, I let out a frustrated moan.
“Katerina, let me show you around since I know all the colors and everything.” Kilyn said with a smile.
My mother grinned as my grandmother walked up to Kilyn. “I want to see the master bedroom where the babies will be made.” Turning to me she narrowed her eyes. “That is, if I live that long at the rate Athanasios is going.”
Kilyn looked at me and I saw the sadness in her eyes.
Once they walked off, I turned to my father. “Dad, why do you just stand there and let her talk?”
He looked at me like I had grown two heads. “Athanasios, let me tell you something about women. Both of you come closer to me,” he said motioning for both Blake and me to get closer.
“You pick your battles. This was one I wasn’t ready to fight because trust me, by the end of the day she’ll give me at least ten other reasons to argue with her.”
My shoulders slumped over and I dropped my head. “Dear Lord in heaven, please help me,” I whispered. Looking back up at my father, I asked the one thing I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer to.
“How does she know Kilyn?”
Letting out a roar of laughter, my father sat down on one of the stools at the kitchen island. “You come home one day and tell your mother you’re falling in love with a girl and her name is Kilyn. Oh, and by the way she’s not Greek and she is designing my house. You practically threw the girl into the lion’s den with your own hands. You mentioned meeting her at the Onion Creek place. Your mother is smart. She did some research.”