Chapter 48 #2
She bends down, wrapping one arm around his neck while he kisses her cheek.
“You look happy, kouklaki.”
She pulls back, smiling. “I am happy.” She coughs and fans the smoke away from her face. “God. No thanks to that cigar.”
He chuckles. “It’s better than breathing in the city fumes. This helps me think. Without it, I’m just a grumpy old man.”
“A grumpy old man who might live longer.”
“Careful. You’re starting to sound like your yiayiá.”
Jordan laughs. “Oh, God, we don’t want that.” She steps back, glancing between us. “I better go help. Get to my womanly duties while you men sit on your asses and smoke cigars.”
She plasters a shit-eating grin on her face, turns, and walks toward me, leaving her pappoús chuckling behind her.
“Why do you think we love this holiday so much?” I say with a smirk. She swats my arm as she passes me, gripping her pie box in the other hand.
I laugh. “Thanks for taking one for the team, babe.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she says. Then she calls over her shoulder. “You two have fun.”
I chuckle under my breath, watching her until she’s completely out of sight.
Pappoús reaches for a cigar box on the side table and pops it open. “Matt, care to join me?”
“I’d love to,” I say, and I mean it. It’s the first time I haven’t been itching to get out of here minutes after arriving. It feels different today. It’s warmer. Lighter. Not so fucking stiff.
Nothing makes me happier for Jordan. That she isn’t crawling into a shell in front of her family. That she gets to be herself.
And the thing that hits me the hardest—her family will finally get to know the real her.
Jordan plops down beside me on her grandparents’ sofa, her hand immediately reaching for mine.
Thank fucking God, too, because I’d rather watch football with a chatty toddler than listen to Christopher drone on about himself any longer.
He’s the kind of guy who’s constantly seeking validation—always trying to one-up you and anyone you might know.
If there’s a way to ruin a Thanksgiving football game, he found it.
“How’s the game?” Jordan asks as I lean in to greet her with a kiss, silently thanking her for saving my ass.
“Game is good,” I reply.
She glances toward Christopher, rolling her eyes before a sly smile lifts the corners of her mouth. She cups my cheek, brings me closer, and kisses me. It’s not soft. It’s deliberate. A little dramatic. I catch on immediately and play along, sliding a hand to her waist.
Christopher shifts and clears his throat. A few seconds later he stands and mutters, “Jesus. Get a room.”
Jordan pulls back the moment he’s out of sight and laughs, dusting her hands like she’s finished a job well done. “I knew that would get rid of him. At least for a few minutes.”
I chuckle. “We don’t have to stop just because he left,” I say quietly.
“Hate to break it to you, but that's as much kissing as I'll ever do when Yiayia's nearby.”
“Well, thank you for saving me,” I say, stealing one more quick kiss.
She smiles, resuming her position beside me, her shoulder soft against mine, our fingers laced and resting on my thigh.
Smoking cigars with Jordan’s pappoús was a highlight. He’s always been good to me, but tonight we actually bonded.
Before we sat to eat, Jordan’s mamá congratulated us, hugged me, and even welcomed me to the family, and dinner went…
pretty good, all things considered. No drama.
No raised voices. Conversation mostly revolved around Christopher and Andrea, with about ten minutes of rapid-fire questions from her yiayiá about when the wedding would be and making sure we picked a date that worked around Andrea’s pregnancy.
We landed on a September wedding in Spetses, Greece. I offered to pay for everyone’s accommodations—find a resort and buy the damn thing out.
Yiayiá looked pleased. But with her, it’s impossible to know. She could just as easily have been offended, like I was implying she couldn’t afford it.
Overall, it’s been a good Thanksgiving, and Jordan seems… happy. Loved. Accepted. And fuck, it’s been a long time coming.
Seeing her like this here, in the place where so much of her doubt was born, where her confidence has been shaken, it fills my chest with fierce pride—in how far she’s come with her family. With life. With herself.
“Who are we rooting for today?” she asks.
“Nobody,” I say. “I don’t really care who wins, and my fantasy team is sucking ass this year. I’m in last place.”
She laughs softly. “I will never understand how it’s enjoyable to watch a game when you don’t even care who wins.”
I shrug. “I love the game.”
I feel her gaze shift to me. She sits there quietly for several seconds before she asks, “Have you talked to Cole today?”
“Yeah,” I say, glancing over. “I texted him this morning. Told him Happy Thanksgiving. Said we wanted to FaceTime later if he could.”
“That’s good. I hope he has a good day. Cece’s seemed…
” She exhales. “I don’t know. Softer? The last two times we’ve picked him up, she’s seemed…
different. Like she doesn’t think she’s sending Cole off with the devil and his mistress anymore.
” She laughs at her own joke, and I smile.
“How are you feeling about next weekend?” she adds.
Next weekend.
The final hearing.
The day the court decides if I’m fit to be a father for Cole, and seals his fate and ours.
I frown. I’ve tried not to think about it, but it’s impossible. It’s pretty much the only thing on my mind these last few days.
“I’m not sure. I feel a lot of things about it. But I’m trying not to get wrapped up in my thoughts because there’s nothing we can do.”
The thought of Cece getting guardianship makes my stomach twist—sharp, stabbing pain, like a knife driven deep beyond the flesh.
She squeezes my hand. “Yeah,” she says softly. “What’s the plan if you don’t get it?”
“We,” I say, my voice low and gruff.
I look at her. Christ, those eyes. A calm washes over me, loosening the tightness lodged in my stomach.
She smiles. “We,” she repeats.
“If we don’t get it, I guess we just carry on like we’ve been doing. I’ll be his godfather like I always have been. Hope Cece lets us see him a few times a year.”
She nods, but doesn’t say anything. Just sits in the discomfort of that very real possibility with me.