Chapter 6
Chapter Six
JORDAN
The Uber turns off Madison and stops in front of my grandparents’ building, an old, upscale high-rise overlooking Central Park.
“Thanks,” I say, stepping out with a grin when I see Tom, the doorman. He’s been here since—well, forever.
“Morning, Miss Jordan,” he calls out, his Queens accent still bringing a sense of nostalgia after all these years.
“Hi, Tom. Yiayiá still out?”
“Lunch with the ladies,” he says, giving me a wink as he pulls open the door for me. “You’ve got a window.”
Tom knows everything that happens in this building, but if anyone were to ask, he doesn’t know a thing.
“Thanks. I’ll steal a cookie for you on my way out,” I call over my shoulder, heading for the elevator.
Three minutes later, my pappoús opens the door with a welcoming smile.
“Ah, my kouklaki.” He kisses my cheek.
“Hi, Pappoús.”
“Come in, come in,” he says, waving me inside. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” I step inside, inhaling the familiar smell of my childhood, a blend of coffee, Chanel No. 5, and roasted lamb. “How long do we have today?”
He chuckles, closing the door softly behind me. “She left thirty minutes ago. Won’t be back for hours.”
My yiayiá has a standing lunch date with her friends every Wednesday. I took the afternoon off for a doctor’s appointment, so I came early to visit my pappoús.
It’s not that I don’t want to see my yiayiá. It’s just… sometimes I really don’t want to see my yiayiá.
I love her, obviously. She’s my grandmother. But lately, the pressure to find a husband has become unbearable. Insufferable, really. She’s also the first one to tell me everything I’m doing wrong.
You’re not trying hard enough. You’re too thin. Your hair’s a mess. And my personal favorite: You’re showing too much skin. How do you expect to find a husband when you look like a call girl?
My pappoús is the opposite. He spoils me rotten. Always has. Treats me too good—like a princess. And when everyone else makes me feel like the court jester? I’ll take being a princess any day.
He grabs a silver tray with coffee, tea, cream, and cookies, then brings it into the living room while I sink into the B&B Italia Charles sofa, an Italian import Yiayiá ordered in the nineties after a trip to Greece and Italy.
It’s elegant, soft, and somehow still spotless, even after thirty years.
One of those pieces I’d never choose for their space now, but can still appreciate.
“So, how is everything going, my sweets?”
I stir my tea while my pappoús pours cream into his coffee. “Things are good. Just busy with work.”
“You work too much, Jordan. A little more balance would be good for you. Maybe even someone to come home to after a long day.” He pauses, like he knows he’s treading into dangerous waters. “I heard Yiayiá and your mamá are setting you up with Alexander? Nice young man. Successful, too.”
He went there anyway.
I tip my head back and groan. “Not you too, Pappoús!”
He chuckles, a sparkle lighting his eyes. “I just want you to find a good man who treats you right. Someone who takes care of you, so you don’t have to work so hard. I just want you to be happy.”
I give a soft smile. I know he means well. “I know, Pappoús. I am happy.” Sort of. “You know there’s more to life than falling in love, right? I have my work, friends… Matt.” I tack that last one on with a shrug, aiming for casual.
“Ah, yes. Matt’s back. And how is the big-timer? Is his bank account as big as his head yet?”
I laugh way harder than I should. I made the mistake of coming over here once, years ago, to cry to Pappoús after Matt and I had a fight. Told him all Matt cared about was his big fat bank account, and that his head had gotten so big, he’d never have enough money to fill it.
Pappoús has never let me forget it.
“It’s just as big as it’s always been.” I flash him a teasing grin. “Maybe bigger.”
He laughs at that. “You know I’ve always liked Matt. I just pretend to hate him for Yiayiá’s sake. Can’t afford to be in the doghouse.” He stirs his coffee, eyes softening. “He’s not my first choice for you, kouklaki, but he’d do just fine. That boy loves you. Always has.”
I watch him, amused, as he dips his cookie into his coffee. “Hmm.” It’s all I give him, because I don’t disagree.
Matt loves me in his own way.
Just… not in the way I’ve ever wanted him to.
I let him think what he wants and shift the conversation. “I finished my business plan and started talking to a few lenders. Looked at a few commercial spaces. For fun. It’s still early, but I’m getting an idea of prices and where I might want to be.”
“That’s good. Just don’t take on more than you already have.” He takes a sip of his coffee and gasps, like he’s surprised by how damn hot he makes it. “You work too much as it is.”
I smile. Back to working too much. Next will be how I need a man to find balance again. These are my chats with Pappoús, hitting the same nail in a different direction. Over and over.
I’ve been planning to start my own company for a while now. I’m still in the beginning stages, but Pappoús likes hearing about it.
“But this will allow me to eventually slow down.”
He nods. “It’s good to build something of your own. How is saving for a down payment coming along?”
Not good.
“Coming along great,” I lie. “I just have a few more credit cards to pay down, and then I’ll be able to save more each month.”
Everyone else in this family had a trust fund to help with future endeavors.
Mine was spent…
By my dad.
“How much do you still owe?” he asks.
I cringe internally. He asked me the same question last time I was here, and I may have made it sound like it wasn’t as bad as it actually is. And like they were almost paid off.
They aren’t.
Not even close.
There was a lot of shit happening over the summer.
“Better than they were last month,” I say, hoping my smile will soften the blow.
“Three months ago you said they’d be paid off by now.”
I shrug. “They aren’t.”
His expression sags. “I thought you had a plan.”
“I did,” I say, sipping my tea, my gaze hovering above the rim.
“But then it was my birthday, and you know Yiayiá would have been mortified if I showed up in something last season in front of all her friends. And I had to get my hair done. Then there are the endless lunches and dinners, and God forbid anything be affordable these days...” I trail off because, well, I guess everything is affordable for Pappoús.
He just shakes his head. “This is why you need to go out with Alexander.” He chuckles at that, and I find it anything but funny.
“I don’t need a man to fix my financial problems. I just need to catch up. I’ve turned down two events this month because I didn’t want to buy a new dress.”
I’m not a complete shitshow with my money. It’s just hard keeping up with the Joneses. Between the world I came from and the one I pretend to belong to, I either need to make double my income, or do exactly what Pappoús is suggesting and marry up.
I tried once. Look how that worked out.
Yeah, I know. There’s always the whole live within your means bit, but that’s easier said than done. Especially when all your friends and family dwell in Manhattan’s elite social circles.
My pappoús and yiayiá are my dad’s parents. He’s fucked up more than anyone, but Yiayiá will never see it that way. She blames everything on my mamá. The good news? Someone sucks more than I do.
“How bad is it?” he asks, expression grim.
“It’s not terrible,” I say, voice light, lying through my teeth.
“That’s what you said last time, koukla mou. Five thousand? Ten?”
“Um…” I take another sip of tea, buying myself time. “Mhm,” I mumble into my cup.
Why does he always have to guess? It’s always worse than he imagines, but then what am I supposed to do?
Tell him his worst-case scenario doesn’t even come close?
He thinks ten thousand is an astronomical amount to owe on a credit card.
Not because he can’t afford it, but because he can’t stand the idea of paying interest. Meanwhile, Yiayiá probably spends that every month on a few new dresses that end up collecting dust in her closet.
He watches me, brows scrunching together like he’s genuinely disappointed. And the last person I ever want to disappoint is my pappoús.
“Pappoús! Don’t scowl at me.”
“How much, Jordan?”
I sigh, setting my teacup down a little too firmly on the porcelain saucer. “Fine. Closer to twenty,” I admit, wincing internally.
His eyebrows shoot so high, swear to God, they nearly reach his hairline, and I burst out laughing.
“Jordan Maria Demetriou!” He slams his mug onto the saucer, then starts yelling in Greek. “Theó mou!” and a string of words I don’t even try to translate.
“Pappoús. Pappoús!”
He stands, hands flying up in defeat.
Great.
I lean back and cross my legs, lifting a brow. Pappoús is known for his blowups, but he never stays mad, especially not at me. One constant I have in my favor.
I pull out my phone and start scrolling as he storms off, muttering gibberish I don’t understand but probably should.
He’ll be back.
I have a text from Alley.
And one from Matt.
Alley
Hey, friend. It’s been way too long! How are you? I saw Matt last week. He said you two have been hanging out… Does that mean what I think it means?
I huff out a soft laugh.
Another reason I’ve been avoiding everyone. The moment they hear Matt and I are “friends” again, it can only mean one thing.
Except this time, it doesn’t.
Still… I can’t blame them.
Hi! I’ve been really good. How are you? How’s that baby boy growing? Yes, Matt. But no, just friends this time. I know… uncharted territory here!
I swipe out of that text and go to Matt’s.
Matt
I need a date for Saturday night. PLEASE. Don’t make me go with anyone who isn’t you. I almost fell asleep at the last one, and you know that wouldn’t be good for my image. Or the endangered species. Do it for them.
I shake my head, grinning before I even realize it.