The Accidental Honeymoon (Wildflower Lane #1)

Chapter 26

twenty-six

CALLA

The bakery has sold out of cupcakes, by noon, almost every day in the last month. I need to increase the volume of cupcakes by enough to last the full day, but not to where we’d have leftover cupcakes.

So how many twenty-five pound drums of flour and sugar should I buy?

It’s like one of those word problems from algebra. Except with this question, there are actually stakes. The flour and sugar actually cost me money .

I’m sitting in You Butter Believe It’s kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee and going over an inventory list for my bakery. I tap a pen against my lips and write down a conservative number. Then I scratch it out and write a bigger number.

Hmm. If I don’t order enough supplies, we’ll keep running out of cupcakes. But if I over-order a few times, I will be in hot water financially. I can always put an order or two of supplies on my business credit card… but I need to be sure that I’ll have the cash to pay it off when the bill comes due.

My phone buzzes on the counter. I mindlessly reach for the phone, still running through my calculations. I was never a great math student, and that makes running my own small business challenging.

The phone buzzes again in my hand.

Incoming! Cora texts. Mom saw your wedding video. She’s in a mood.

Oh, crap. This is exactly what I don’t need. I’d hoped to go through the whole three-month period as a married woman without my parents ever finding out. Now that’s out the window.

Like magic, my phone starts to ring. I glance at the screen. It's my mother. Bracing myself, I swipe to answer.

“Mom!” I say, adopting a cheerful tone. “I was just thinking about you.”

"Calanthe Anastasia Diana Nikolakas!" My mother is a force of nature, like a Mediterranean hurricane. "Why didn't you tell us you were getting married?"

Double crap. She’s serious if she’s using my full name. I can almost see her with her hand on her hip, her dark curls bobbing with each indignant head shake.

Before I can respond, she plows ahead. "We had to find out from Facebook! Do you know how embarrassing that is for your father and me? I said to your dad, ‘What do you think we’ve ever done to Calla that she would keep us out of her life like this?’"

"Daphne," my father cuts in. Stavros is ever the peacemaker. "Calla, sweetheart. We are happy for you. But surprised. Very surprised. We have whiplash over here."

I switch the phone to my other ear. I'm already exhausted. Now I have to make up a lie on the spot, which has me flustered. Well, it’s not a lie per se. It’s more of a massaging of the truth.

That doesn’t make it any easier to say it out loud .

"Mom, Dad. The reason I didn’t tell you is that we aren’t sure that it will stick. We like each other, but we’re not sure it’s love."

"You’re not sure?! How did you end up in this situation, agapi mu ?” God. There it goes. My dad is breaking out the Greek terms of endearment. The next thing I know he’s going to be doing a zeibekiko and smashing plates in celebration.

"Tequila, I think?” I slump against the counter, staring at the cup of coffee in front of me.

“Oh, sweetheart.” My mom sounds concerned. “Have you talked to Cora about getting an annulment?”

“Not yet. We’re playing it by ear. And I would really appreciate if you just supported me rather than asking me a million more questions.”

There's a pause. I can almost hear them exchanging one of their long-married-couple looks. I bite my lip, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"You need to bring him to dinner, Calanthe," Mom orders. " Tonight . If he's going to be part of the family, even temporarily, we need to meet him."

I groan inwardly. Dinners at my parents' house are a gauntlet under the best of circumstances. They’re an hours-long affairs just with the family. Throwing Jay into the mix is a recipe for certain disaster.

"Mom, can it wait a few weeks?” My whole marriage might be over by then.

"Calla." Dad interrupts, his voice taking on a rare note of sternness. "Family is important. You know this. We will see you both for dinner. Your mother will roast a leg of lamb."

I sigh, defeated. "Fine. We'll be there."

"Good." Mom sounds mollified. "And Calla? We love you, even when you're being ridiculous."

"I love you too, Mom and Dad."

I hang up and stare at the phone for a long moment. This whole thing was supposed to be simple. A quick way to drum up business without any real complications. Now I've got my parents thinking I'm disrespecting our traditions. And Jay….

Well, Jay is a whole other complication.

Jay and I stand on the doorstep of my parents' house. The scent of oregano and roasted lamb wafts through the air. He adjusts his shirt collar, looking uncharacteristically anxious. I feel bad for him.

"Ready?" I ask. I know full well he's not.

He gives a half-hearted nod. I close my hand around his and ring the bell with the other.

The door flies open instantly, unleashing a wave of sound. My Greek relatives never do anything small. A "casual" family dinner means a spread that could feed a small army.

"Calanthe! Jay!" My mother is the first to reach us. She pulls me into a tight hug before giving Jay a once-over. "I told the family you got married. So, strap in. Unless you want to be the one to explain your decision to your grandmother?"

"Mom—" I start, but she's already waving us into the chaos of the living room. Every surface is covered with either food, children, or family photos of the whole clan. The noise level is somewhere between rock concert and jet engine.

As soon as we step inside, a phalanx of aunts and cousins descends on us. Well, on Jay, really. They peel him away from me, commenting on his looks and asking how a "nice boy like him" found their Calla. I hang back, letting them have their fun. It's not every day they get to interrogate a semi-celebrity.

"He's even taller in person," one cousin gushes.

"Those eyes! Are they real?" an aunt wonders.

Jay takes it all in stride. He seems nervous to me, but I think my family will be fooled by his confident smile. My grandmother swoops in to examine him. She's a tiny woman, but her presence is enormous.

"Sit. Sit!" she commands. She pushes Jay into a chair and thrusts a plate of spanakopita into his hands. "Eat up if you want to keep up with a strong Greek wife!"

I stifle a laugh as I watch him try to balance the plate. He fends off more questions. His cool facade is starting to crack, and I have to admit that it's kind of endearing.

"How did you two meet?" demands my uncle, the family's unofficial interrogator.

The room quiets. All eyes are on Jay.

"Uh, we met when Calla was doing a cake for my wedding," Jay says. He coughs into his hand and I see his neck flushing. The table murmurs with interest. "As you can see, things didn't go as planned."

"And you ran off with your cake baker?" one of my aunts gasps. She clutches her pearls.

“After my fiancée left me standing at the altar, I married Calla.” He looks like he’s sweating bullets, like a kid playing Operation.

"So fast! Was it the magic of fate or...?" She lets the question hang. Her suspicion is palpable.

"It was love at first sight," my mother cuts in. She beams. "Isn't that right, Calla?"

I want to strangle her but plaster on a smile. "Uhhh yep. Once we knew that we could be together, we just—" I make a ‘taking off’ gesture while whistling. Why? I have no idea.

Jay, ever the quick study, jumps in. "I just couldn't resist Calla's charm."

I shoot him a look. I'm half amused, half exasperated. The younger cousins giggle.

I notice something I hadn't before. Jay's genuine excitement about other people. He's not just tolerating my family. Even though he’s so clearly overwhelmed, he's engaging with them despite their loaded questions. Even enjoying responding.

That’s something new that I hadn’t noticed before. It makes my heart squeeze in my chest.

"So, when do we get grandchildren?" my grandmother booms. "Calanthe’s not getting any younger!"

I choke on my drink. Jay lets out a nervous laugh. He glances at me to see how he should play this.

Before he can dig us into a deeper hole, my mother cuts in. "They'll have to go to Greek school. You know, classes at the Cathedral. Our kids went. Right, Calla?" she asks.

The family nods and breaks off into smaller groups, talking about Greek school.

Jay breathes out. I can't help but admire the way he's navigating this minefield. He's more adaptable than I gave him credit for.

A small part of me starts to wonder if we could actually pull this off. You know, be a real couple.

It’s funny. Jay and I don’t have to fake anything right now. We are just being our genuine selves. I can’t decide if that’s cute or absolutely terrifying.

"Come on," I say. I gently pull Jay away from the table. "You need a break."

We retreat to the kitchen. I hand him a glass of water and he downs it in one gulp. He leans against the counter, eyes closed. "Your family is... intense."

"You have no idea." I roll my eyes. "And this is just the warm-up."

"I get it." He shrugs. "If my parents had feelings, I’m sure they would be grilling you, too.”

I clear my throat. "We should get back."

We eat a lavish meal, each plate heaped high with lamb, roast potatoes, couscous salad, ripe tomato slices sprinkled with pepper, lahnosalata , lemon rice, and briam . Mom and my yiayia keep trying to refill Jay’s plate.

I lean over and whisper in his ear. “Just say no. They are experts in making you feel like you’re hurting their feelings by turning down more food, but I promise you’re not. You have to be firm.”

He doesn’t take my advice and ends up with a third helping of lamb and cabbage salad. I laugh and he just shoots me a look.

Once we finally finish, the dining room calms down a bit. The initial frenzy gives way to the languid pace of a level ten food coma.

Just as I think we might escape unscathed, my father appears with a bottle of ouzo.

"Ouzo!" Jay says. “Now this is a part of Greek life that I already like.”

My father pours two generous shots. He hands one to Jay.

"A toast," my father declares. "To family."

Jay hesitates for a split second. He clinks his glass against my father's. The ouzo goes down hard. Jay's face contorts in a mix of pain and surprise. He sputters and coughs .

“Smooth,” he says, once he’s done almost throwing up. I can't help but laugh.

A family member strikes up a traditional Greek song. Soon we're all on our feet, forming a circle. Jay looks to me, pleading. I grab his hand and pull him into the dance. He's clumsy, stepping on toes and nearly toppling over, but laughs it off.

Honestly, if he keeps this up, he’ll win over my family with his effort. His smile is genuine. His eyes are bright. He fits in better than I ever expected.

For a moment, it all feels real. Too real.

As we leave, Jay is exhausted but grinning. "I've never met a family with so much... enthusiasm."

"Yeah, they're something." A strange mix of pride and dread swells in my chest.

He pauses and looks back at the house. "You’re lucky, you know. To have all this."

I don't know what to say to that. Instead, I unlock the car. We slide into our seats. "Thanks for doing this." I speak finally. "I know it’s a lot."

He shrugs. I can tell he's pleased. "Anything for my wife."

I roll my eyes. There's a warmth in my cheeks I can't deny as we drive away. He handled my family better than most of my real boyfriends have. Maybe even better than I do.

And that scares me. It makes this whole ridiculous situation feel possible. Like maybe our "fake" relationship could be something more. Even something worth fighting for.