14. Santo
The next morning, the blogs were ablaze with Kat’s poison. I didn’t flinch. By noon, my official statement was everywhere.
The vile lies about Tia are the invention of a jealous, rejected ex.
Anyone who publishes them and repeats the slander is complicit in a campaign of misogyny and racism.
Defamation lawsuits will be filed against any publication or individual who repeats the slander. The Christakis family stands with Tia.
I made sure the statement was accompanied by a photo of me and Tia on Thalassía, her hand in mine. By now the owner of the blog was being served cease-and-desist letters .
By evening, screenshots of Katalina’s results from a chlamydia diagnosis two years ago were circulating in group chats all over Athens. It had taken a highly skilled hacker to get those results.
As I reviewed the fallout on my phone, I paused, suddenly struck by the realization that my anger had nothing to do with Katalina anymore. The vengeance I’d sought for years didn’t matter.
What mattered was protecting Tia from harm. A protective instinct I’d never felt so fiercely before. The thought was unsettling. When had this shifted from being about revenge to being about... her?
I stepped into the kitchen, following the scent of baking and laughter to find Tia with my Theia and Yiayia. The sight of her with my favorite family members brought a smile to my face. Her dark curls were dusted with flour, and honey glistened on her fingers as she carefully layered pastry sheets.
“Oh, so this is what happens when I’m away?” I leaned against the doorframe, drinking in the sight of her. “You three team up to disparage me and laugh at me behind my back.”
Tia rolled her eyes and made a face at me, but I caught her smile and the quick once-over she gave me before pretending indifference. My chest tightened with tenderness.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to feel like this .
“Santo!” Yiayia wiped her flour-covered hands on her embroidered apron. “We thought you’d be gone longer. But you’re just in time for a little sweetness.”
“The meeting ended early,” I replied, unable to take my eyes off Tia, who was suddenly fascinated with the pattern on the marble countertop.
I’d cut the meeting short, making excuses to my team. The truth was I couldn’t stand being away from her for another minute.
Theia Irida chuckled. “Your timing is perfect. Tia has been learning to make baklava, and we’ve been telling her all about your childhood adventures.”
“Is that so?” I raised an eyebrow at Tia. “And what exactly have these troublemakers been sharing with you?”
Tia’s lips curved into a smile that made my heart stutter. “This.”
She grabbed a handful of flour and launched it directly at me. It hit me square in the chest, leaving a perfect white handprint on my black shirt.
I was too stunned to react. No one excited me like this woman. No one came close. And the realization unsettled me because this wasn’t how our story was supposed to go.
“Oh, you’re going to regret that, aggelé mou,” I warned as I moved toward the counter slowly. I plunged my hand into the flour bag, before I retaliated, sending a cloud of white powder in her direction.
A fig flew past my ear and I laughed as we devolved into a food fight. We chased each other around the kitchen island, grabbing whatever ingredients we could reach.
The staff passing by the open doorway stopped to stare at the spectacle. I deliberately missed with half my throws, more interested in the way her eyes lit up when she landed a hit.
My Theia and Yiayia backed away from our battlefield, clicking their tongues but watching with amusement. I hadn’t behaved like this since I was in high school and turned my school’s cafeteria into a mess.
I reached for the sugar bowl, brandishing it with exaggerated menace. “You’re going down, aggelé mou.”
She tried to dodge around the island, but I anticipated her movement, cutting her off and trapping her between my body and the cupboards.
I could smell her perfume beneath the scent of flour and sugar.
My dick throbbed at the scent, but something more profound stirred in my chest. Something I’d been fighting to ignore for days.
My fingers moved of their own accord, brushing her cheek, leaving a trail through the flour dust. Her skin was impossibly soft beneath my thumb .
“How is your skin so soft?”
“Daily moisturizing. Non-negotiable,” Tia replied, her voice carrying that matter-of-fact tone I’d come to appreciate.
“Non-negotiable?” I raised my eyebrows, intrigued as I continued my exploration of her face, shoulder, and arms.
“Mmhmm. As a Black woman, moisturizing isn’t optional. It’s essential. Without it…” She gave him a look. “Ashiness. It’s not cute.”
I interlaced our fingers, enjoying how perfectly her hand fit in mine despite the difference in size. “Ashiness?”
“When your skin gets dry and looks ashy gray. My mom drilled it into me early to lotion immediately after showering, while skin is still damp. Special attention goes to elbows and knees.” Her smile as she explained was both fond and patient.
I brought her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss against her palm. “I’ll have to thank your mother for these skincare lessons.”
I wondered what her mother would think of me if she knew my original intentions. The thought brought a flash of shame I quickly pushed aside.
I leaned down, drawn to her by a force I didn’t want to resist. She didn’t move away, and I caught the subtle parting of her lips, the quicker intake of breaths .
A throat cleared nearby, breaking the spell. Yiayia and theia stood off to one side, knowing grins on their faces.
Tia stepped back quickly and apologized for the mess.
“Nonsense, child,” Yiayia said, waving away Tia’s apology. “But look at you now. Covered head to toe! Why don’t you go freshen up?”
Tia nodded gratefully. “Thank you, Kyria Christakis. I’ll be quick.”
Yiayia stepped forward and placed a hand on Tia’s flour-dusted cheek. “My dear, anyone who has the courage to attempt our family’s traditional recipes, has earned the right to call me Yiayia.”
Tia blinked rapidly, clearly touched by the gesture. “I—thank you, Yiayia,” Tia said, the word sounding uncertain but sincere on her tongue.
“Go, koukla mou,” Yiayia said gently, brushing flour from Tia’s cheek with the back of her hand. “Before the flour decides to stay forever in that lovely hair of yours.”
I watched her leave, flour dusting her curves, and automatically moved to follow her. Yiayia’s firm grip on my arm stopped me.
“Not so fast, Santo,” she said, her voice light as the kitchen staff discreetly dispersed.
Theia Irida closed the kitchen door behind Tia. “Sit,” she commanded, pointing to a stool at the counter .
I raised an eyebrow but complied. These women had helped raise me. I knew better than to argue.
“We need to understand your intentions,” Irida said, folding her arms. “Not rumors. Not assumptions. Facts.
“Do I need intentions? We’re just having fun.” The flour on my shirt was starting to itch.
Yiayia shook her head, her voice firmer than usual. “We know your heart, agápi mou. But we also know your patterns. Be honest.”
“Promise us you’re not using her to get back at Katalina,” Theia Irida interjected. “Because if you’re using her—”
“I’m not,” I cut in firmly, ignoring the twist of guilt in my gut.
Over the past week, everything had changed.
The man who’d orchestrated this relationship as revenge against Katalina had disappeared, replaced by someone who couldn’t imagine his life without Tia.
“Katalina has nothing to do with what’s happening between Tia and me. ”
They exchanged glances, silently communicating in that mysterious way of theirs.
“We like her,” Theia Irida finally said. “She’s intelligent. Disciplined. A woman with focus.”
“And kind,” Yiayia added. “She has a pure heart.”
“She does,” I agreed. “She is all of those things. ”
Yiayia’s expression grew serious again. “Then treat her accordingly, Santo. No games.”
“I know what I’m doing.” I brushed flour from my sleeves.
Yiayia snorted. “That’s what worries us,” she murmured, brushing a bit of flour from my jaw with motherly affection. “Be careful with her heart, agápi mou. And with your own.”
The arrival of a maid ended our conversation. I stood, brushing more flour from my clothes.
“And clean this mess up,” Theia Irida instructed, a twinkle returning to her eyes. “And don’t forget the backsplash. You always miss the backsplash.”
I laughed. “Yes, Kyria Christakis.”
After tidying the kitchen, I headed upstairs to find Tia. The flour fight had been just what we needed after yesterday’s blog disaster, but I knew we still had more to talk about. Her door was partially open, and I could hear her moving around inside.
I knocked softly before pushing the door wider. Tia was sitting on the edge of the bed in a towel with Zeus’ head on her lap. The dog looked satisfied as she stroked his fur. Her skin was still damp from her shower and her hair somehow seemed shorter while wet.
“Hey,” I said.
She looked up, startled. “Hey yourself. ”
I stepped into the room, closing the door behind me. “Zeus seems to have chosen his favorite person, and it’s not me anymore.”
A small smile touched her lips. “He knows I need the company.”
In three strides I crossed the room, sitting beside her on the bed. Zeus gave me an annoyed huff before jumping down and padding to his bed—which he’d moved to Tia’s room.
“Are you okay?” I asked, studying her face.
Tia sighed. “I’m better than yesterday. Still processing.”
Without another word, I cupped her face in my hands and kissed her deeply, pouring everything I couldn’t articulate into the contact. Her hands slid up my chest to rest on my shoulders.
When we separated, breathless, I stroked her cheek. “Katalina won’t be a problem anymore.”
Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”