September 2018
“I can’t believe you said that!” Lena cried, tugging me along the beach.
I couldn’t stop giggling as I wrapped the orange sarong around me and slung my bag over my shoulder. “She shouldn’t have been staring at me like that! Like, take a picture for fuck’s sake…”
Lena shook her head and laughed, casting a glance over her shoulder at the horrified woman we left behind on the beach. “This is why mama thinks you’re a bad influence,” she said with a grin.
“No, she thinks I’m a bad influence because I sleep around,” I retorted, sticking my tongue out.
We dissolved into another fit of laughter and continued down the shore until we found a nice clear area to sunbathe. I spread my blanket out and dropped down onto it while rubbing tanning lotion up and down my arms and watching the waves roll in. It was getting late, the best sun had already passed but it was still so nice out, I didn’t want to head back to Aunt Iva’s yet.
“That’s so beautiful,” I whispered. The sun, making the waves glitter and the sand blind me, the sky blending perfectly into the ocean and only separated by the tiny dots of clouds here and there. “I wish I had my camera.”
“You should have brought it,” she said as she laid back with her sunglasses on. “You could have gotten some great shots. But I’m sure you’ll be able to buy another one after a few weeks at the shop.”
“Do you really want to work there forever with Iva and all them?” I asked. “Like, you don’t even want to try school or move or something first?”
“Nope.” She turned to me pushed her glasses up, narrowing her eyes in the light. “I like the store, I like fashion, and I want to keep it in the family. If you give it a chance, you might like it too.”
No, I won’t. I wanted to travel, I wanted to go back to school eventually, and I didn’t want to work a nine-to-five job again. Alex had been right, he ruined me, and now I hated the idea of having to work at all when I had his credit card still in my pocket. My eyes burned at the mere thought of him and I forced myself to look away as tears sprung.
I should have waited the two weeks before coming to Greece to let myself grieve, but all I wanted was to get away as fast as I could and now I was here, seeing the most beautiful sights and wishing he was here with me.
“—out,” Lena finished.
Shit. I hadn’t been listening. “What?”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you want to go out tonight? There’s a bunch of us having a bonfire and drinks?”
“Does anyone else speak English?” I asked wearily.
“A few of them, yeah,” she answered. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Well, let’s see; I can stay at home with Iva and get harassed or I can go out with you and meet cute guys… Whatever will I choose?”
She snickered and gave me a light shove.
I sighed and watched everyone chat amongst themselves, they were all dancing and enjoying themselves and I felt like a creep staring at them. I leaned back against the tree and pursed my lips in annoyance; I wanted to have fun like them, I really did, but I couldn’t even say anything that they would understand.
A man suddenly spoke behind me and I jumped, turning on my heel to see a stranger standing there watching me expectantly. Oh, wow, hi there.
“Um, I don’t speak Greek, den miláo elliniká,” I said apologetically. I wished I did speak Greek right then, this guy was too hot not to talk to.
He was much taller than me, slim, with a sort of lithe athleticism, long dark hair that brushed his shoulders in tousled, curly waves, a deep tan skin tone, and light blue eyes that seemed to glow from the aura of the tiki torches.
“Your accent sucks,” he said with a laugh. “How does it feel to be the only American here?”
I scoffed. “My accent is amazing, thank you. And maybe I’m Canadian, you don’t know.”
“Well, if you were you would probably tell me straight up instead of saying maybe,” he retorted. “I’m Peter, and you are…?”
“Chloe,” I replied, shaking his hand. Do all attractive Greek men look like Alex? If they did, then I was in paradise. “So how come you speak English? You’re the only other person I’ve met here that does.”
He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. “My mum is British, she grew up here and speaks the language, but she brought me back to London for school. Now you have to tell me what exactly an American that doesn’t speak Greek is doing at a party full off non-English speakers.”
“She’s my guest, Pete.”
I turned to see Lena coming up the cobblestone path. “Chloe, this is my ex – Peter. Pete, this is my cousin, so behave.”
Peter rolled his eyes but smiled fondly at her anyway. “She should be the one behaving, she’s on my island after all.”
Wow. “Seriously?” I asked in awe. “This place is yours?” He couldn’t have been much older than me and the fact that he was living on his own island was shocking.
“Yeah, plenty of people have them in Greece,” he answered with a growing smirk.
Lena snorted and shoved him playfully. “Rich people have islands, not everyone else. Besides, it’s his parents island.”
“Whatever, they aren’t here most of the time anyway.”
I laughed and downed the rest of my drink. “Alright, should I leave you two lovebirds alone while go mingle then?”
“No,” he protested. “Let me take you to find something better to drink.”
I glanced to Lena for permission. This guy had been hers, and they seemed to be on good terms, I didn’t want to step on any toes. She waved me off with a smile. “Go, have fun, just don’t let him bring you to the greenhouse.”
Greenhouse? I stared at her questioningly but someone off on the beach was calling her attention away. Peter slipped his arm through mine and led me further up the path towards the houses. “Where are we going exactly?” I asked with a whisper. “The party is back that way.”
“They won’t miss us,” he assured. “The good booze is inside and I’m not letting Lena’s gorgeous cousin drink shitty beer.”
I laughed and leaned into him excitedly. He smelled nice, like a mint sort of aftershave and salt from the ocean. Looking back up at him I felt shock course through me; from this angle he looked even more like Alex, but this guy’s eyes were so light, and face less angular – softer. It’s because I miss him, now everything reminds me of him – even strangers.
As we reached the top of the path, my lips parted and Peter had to stop me from tripping over my own two feet; the house in the distance was a large A frame home with dozens of huge windows decorating the front. It was surrounded by rocks and flowers and framed against the starry sky.
“Wow,” I breathed. “That’s beautiful.”
“That’s the main house, I live in the guest house over here.”
I followed Peter’s line of sight to Bungalow just off the cliffside. It was smaller, but still beautiful and fit well into the scenery around it. The wrap around porch that we followed to the back of the house, led us to the kitchen doors and the other boat docking for smaller vessels.
We left the door open and I watched him grab some stuff from the cabinet as I propped myself up on the counter. He came back with two stemmed glasses with slices of lemon in them. I eyed the drink curiously for a minute while he leaned against the counter next to me, watching with growing amusement.
“I didn’t poison it, you know.”
“Well how am I supposed to know that?” I asked with feigned annoyance. “You could be trying to drug me and ransom me off, I don’t know.”
He rolled his eyes and took a swig of his drink as if to prove a point. I finally took a sip myself and was pleasantly surprised. Tastes like Sambuca. “Ouzo,” he said, answering my unasked question. “Figured you would like that, most people do.”
“Not bad, honestly.” I swirled my glass and watched the cloudy liquid slosh around. “You didn’t have to bring me all the way back here for this though.”
“No, that’s true, I just wanted to steal you away for myself.”
I laughed and set my glass down while relaxing back against the cabinets. “You don’t even know me, people call me a huge bitch. Is that the kind of person you want to impress with booze?” I knew I was trying to scare him off, because if he didn’t run then I wanted him – he looked like him, he talked like him, he reminded me of him. And if I couldn’t have Alex, then this was the next best thing.
“That’s exactly the kind of girl I want,” he replied easily.
“I don’t even know your full name.”
“Petros Hatzistefanis,” he said with a shrug. “I go by Peter or Pete. What about you, Miss Chloe? Tell me your name so I can be allowed to want you.”
Hatzistefanis. No. There was no fucking way. Athens had over half a million people for the population, there was no way I had found the one fucking guy related to Alex.
“Is that a common last name?” I asked, praying that my voice wasn’t too high pitched.
He hummed and downed the rest of his drink before answering, “Yeah, I guess so, it’s really not all that rare.”
Do I just pretend not to notice? I mean, what exactly was I supposed to tell him? That I might have fucked his father or another male relative? Hell no. Not happening. Peter was looking at me questioningly and before I could say anything else he spoke again, “Is something wrong?”
“No,” I said quickly. “Just an interesting name, I haven’t heard it before.” Okay, maybe I shouldn’t be lying that much.
He grinned and pushed himself back up, leaning in close enough to me that I smell the citrus on his breath. “Tell me about yourself,” he urged.
“Like what?” It was hard to breathe this close to him, feeling his warmth and tips of his fingers brushing against mine on the counter top, I could barely even think.
“Why is someone this pretty wandering around all lonely?” he asked, watching me closely. “You don’t have a hundred men fawning over you yet?”
Normally I would have thought that he was laying on the sleaze a little too thick but liked him enough that I was willing to overlook it. Besides, if I was going to get over Alex and make Greece a good trip, then I had to start somewhere. And I guess getting fucked on his kitchen island was where I was starting.
***
“You haven’t told me anything about them,” I protested as I finished fastening the neckties on my dress. “And I thought you said your dad never comes home?”
“Since mum is moving back into the big house he’s coming home for dinner, this is the first time that we’ve all been together in about three years now. And not talking about them was more because I didn’t know where we would be now.”
That would have been fine with me a year ago, but Peter and I were at almost a year and a half now; he should feel like he could share anything with me. “Besides,” he continued. “I didn’t want you to already have an image of them before actually meeting.”
I had never dated a guy so hellbent on keeping me separate from his family life, but now that his mother would be living on the island with us, he had no choice but for everyone to meet. For now I just shrugged it off and continued getting ready; focusing on my smoothing my hair out and finding a matching pair of earrings.
I was just slipping on my black and gold YSL pumps and taking one last look in the mirror for reassurance when Peter came back into the room, urging me to get a move on.
“What if they don’t like me?” I whispered as he dragged me along the path. “Seriously, Pete, no one else likes me here, why will your parents be different?”
He shrugged and tightened his hold on my hand. “It’s because you’re callous, Chloe, you’re loud and opinionated, if you just try and keep that under wraps then they will like you just fine.”
I huffed and jerked my hand out of his grip. “Don’t be a dick, I’m allowed to speak my mind and if you don’t like that then we shouldn’t even be here.”
He groaned and turned to me just as we reached the landing for the stairs to the porch. “I love you, that’s why we’re here.”
I scowled at him and crossed my arms defiantly. “Yeah, really sounds like it too.”
Peter rolled his eyes and pulled me hard to his chest, cupping my face in his hands his mouth met mine in an insistent kiss. “Does that help?” he asked, pulling away.
I looped my arms around his neck and leaned up on my tiptoes. “No, you have a lot further to go,” I taunted.
Peter chuckled and pulled away, keeping his hand on mine as he guided me up the steps and through the door. I hadn’t been in the main house yet, but now I wanted to spend every day here. The A shape exposed the rafters and beams, the windows covering the front wall let in so much light that every inch of the house was bathed in a warm, golden glow, the floating stairs off to the right of the door led up to a cat walk above the kitchen and across to the windows for access to the balcony. I wasn’t one for open concept design, but something about this weird 80s style meeting modern tastes was actually pretty cool. Definitely a lot different than the bungalow.
Sitting at the glass-top dinning table was short woman with bright red hair, unnatural red, a fist full of diamonds decorating her hands, and wearing a loose black dress. Beside her sat the most non-descript man I had ever seen; he was just average from his thinning hair, brown eyes, dad-bod, and hunched shoulders as he leaned forward to help the woman with her puzzle. I couldn’t tell if that was Peter’s father or his step-father. And with them dressed so causally, I felt like I had gone overboard in my black, backless cocktail dress.
“Yassoo, mama!” he called, throwing his arms wide as he strode towards her. She jumped to her feet and practically flew into his embrace. “Mum,” he repeated more softly, hugging her tight.
I stood there awkwardly, just smiling and watching them together. Peter was a mama’s boy, but I had known that since pretty much the beginning of our relationship. He murmured away to her in Greek before turning and gesturing to me with a smile.
“Mum, this is Chloe,” he told her happily. “Chloe, this is my mum, Marie.”
Marie’s smile faltered and turned more into a pursed-lips scowl but she reached for my hand anyway. “Chloe,” she said, testing my name slowly. “You’re our Lena’s sister?”
Our Lena. Cute. “Cousin,” I corrected with a nonchalant shrug. “Practically sisters though, so close enough.”
“You look like her!” the man at the table interjected excitedly. He got to his feet and wandered towards us, radiating a welcomness that Pete’s mother didn’t. “Great to meet you, Chloe, I’m Mike, Pete’s told my wife and I a lot about you!”
He wasn’t anything like the obnoxious man Peter told me about. Marie seemed to just shrug off his comments and started cooing over her son again, tugging at his hair and tsking. “Zander won’t like this at all,” she complained.
I liked Peter’s hair, he kept it grown out that way because I liked it.
“So shaggy,” she continued disapprovingly.
“I’m thinking about getting it cut soon,” he replied with a chuckle as he touched his hair self-consciously.
And now I knew where I stood on the hierarchy of family versus girlfriend. Mike snickered and handed me a beer. “Get used to that,” he whispered to me. “They’re inseparable when they’re together. Zander and Marie don’t get along because of how she babies him.”
“Is it really that bad?” I asked, shocked.
“Oh yeah,” he insisted. “Just you wait.” He nodded at them as she continued to fuss over his appearance and everything else that wasn’t up to par. “Do you play crib? Zander will take forever and these two are only just getting started.”
I laughed and cracked open my drink. “Should I kick your ass or let you win? I don’t know what the etiquette is.”
Mike just laughed and led me back to the table. I took a seat and shuffled the deck while he got the board out for us. One thing that stuck out to me about dinner was that they weren’t preparing it together like I had with my family, it wasn’t too weird, but definitely uncommon for a Greek family. My mother would have my ass black and blue if I thought about sitting down while the meat was still in the oven and I could have been preparing other parts of the meal.
Every time Marie spoke to me she called me Lena, at first it was an accident, the fifth and sixth time made me want to punch her. Peter didn’t say anything about it, which was irritating, but I quickly picked up that he was never going to go against her.
“God, the house hasn’t been this full in years.”
No. I knew that voice, I would recognize that sarcastic, unimpressed drawl anywhere. I turned in my seat and spotted him in the doorway, just hanging up his jacket and smiling warmly at his ex-wife. He hadn’t aged a day; dark hair that now fell just past his ears, equally dark eyes that I could still see as he laid on top of me…
I stood up without thinking about it, and suddenly his gaze was directed at me. His lips parted and his hand froze on Peter’s shoulder. All I could see was Alex, seeing the way the last rays of light caught the specks of silver in his hair, the glitter of his eyes, and the look of shock and awe that made me want to cry. I missed you too, I thought, trying to will what was in my head to his.
“Chloe, this is my father,” Peter said, gesturing to the man. “Zander.”
Alexander. Zander. Or I guess Xander, depending on the point of view. I knew better than to say that we had met, that would be cause for disaster if our stories didn’t line up. “Nice to meet you, Zander,” I greeted, forcing myself to use this foreign version of his name. “You have a lovely home.” Would Peter notice how overly formal I was being?
“Thank you,” Alex said briskly. He turned his attention to his son with a wide, fake smile. “Lucky man, she’s beautiful.”
My heart stuttered and I blushed so hotly that my whole face felt like it was on fire.
“That she is,” Peter agreed with a laugh, pulling me into his side and kissing my temple.
I couldn’t stop staring at Alex for the entirety of dinner, my hands shook badly and every second that I spent sneaking peeks at him I was certain Marie would out us to the group and blow our cover. Peter kept kissing my hand and casting me reassuring smiles, but all I could think was that he noticed my sudden change in moods.
“I have something important to say,” he declared, standing up. Everyone at the table turned their attention to him but I caught the tired and almost pained look on Alex’s face as his son continued, “I’ve waited a long time for this, and I thought now, while the family is back home that it would be the best time.”
Alex stopped short and I knew what he was about to do. In front of a crowd, the exact thing I asked him not to do. He sunk to one knee and Marie gasped. I stared at him, wide-eyed and frightened and feeling like I wanted to run and hide.
“Chloe Jamieson, will you marry me?”
He didn’t have a ring but I nodded without a second thought and started to cry. Peter laughed and jumped to his feet, holding me close as I clung to him. This wasn’t the engagement that I wanted, but at least he was the man I wanted. I looked over his shoulder to Alex sitting alone at the head of the table. I was over it, I had to be, Peter was my future no matter how much we bickered or why his mom didn’t like me. And I had to accept that.