Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
JORDAN
The buzzing of the lights in the hall is all I can hear, and even that seems muffled.
Matt’s holding my hand. Or maybe it’s me holding his. I’m not sure, only that I’m squeezing way too hard.
My fingers are cold, but sweat beads along my hairline, damp under my arms. My chest feels tight and heavy.
It’s silly, really, to be this nervous. It’s just a family dinner. Not a big deal.
But… marriage.
To someone who isn’t Greek.
Without a wedding.
That all matters. It’s important to a traditional Greek family like mine.
Holy shit. I can’t feel my toes.
Footsteps sound behind the door, and my thoughts scatter. My hearing sharpens, zeroing in on every tiny sound. The rustle. The movement. The pause.
Panic rises, but I shove it down. I’m good at that, at least.
“I forgot to tell you something,” I say quietly, glancing at Matt. “I told them a friend was coming.” My attention snaps back to the mauve-colored door as the sounds move closer. “But I didn’t say it was you.”
Matt’s head whips to mine. “What—”
The door swings open.
“Ahh. Jordan, my dear.” My yiayiá’s arms spread wide as she steps forward to hug me and kiss my cheek.
“Hi, Yiayiá.”
She steps back, assessing. Judging. “You look lovely, agapi mou.”
“Thank you.”
Her gaze shifts to Matt. “Oh. And you brought—Matthew.”
“Yiayiá,” he says with a small smile. “It’s good to see you.”
Her smile sags, then lifts again as she turns back to me. “Come in. Come in.”
I give Matt a look that says I’m sorry. He just shrugs it off, perfectly cool and unbothered. Like he always is.
“You’re late.”
“I’m so sor—”
Yiayiá cuts me off. “Why don’t you hang up your jackets and find a seat. I need to check the lamb.” She lets out a sigh. “Not that you care,” she adds, waving a hand. “You don’t eat meat.”
Jesus.
“I love lamb,” Matt says.
And God help him, my yiayiá doesn’t even acknowledge it. She just scurries off down the hall.
Matt helps me out of my jacket, muttering under his breath as he hangs it on the rack by the door.
“Jordan!” my aunt’s voice carries from the dining room, and my eyes follow the sound.
She’s helping to bring in food, along with her perfect son, Christopher.
I can’t stand the bastard.
I spin back to Matt and tug my ring off, panic flaring. “Abort the plan,” I hiss, shoving it into his hand. “Put this in your pocket.” Then, louder, I call over my shoulder, “Hi, Sophia! So good to see you. I’ll be there in just a minute.”
His face contorts. “What are you talking about?” he whispers. “We can’t abort the plan. I read the notes.”
“Forget the notes,” I whisper back. “Just follow my lead.”
“What? No.”
I give a subtle nod toward where my aunt and cousin are behind me, trying to say everything I’m thinking with my eyes.
“What—Christopher?” Matt scoffs. “Who gives a shit about him? He’s a fucking tool.”
I reach for his other hand, fumbling for his ring. He curls his fingers into a fist, closing his hand around mine, and gently but firmly guides me into my pappoús’ empty study, closing the door behind us.
He exhales. “Holy shit, babe. You have got to calm down.”
Adrenaline surges through me, flooding my chest. I take a deep, shaky breath, trying and failing to calm myself. “I know. But I can’t do this with them here.”
His hands settle on my shoulders, thumbs brushing my collarbone. His gaze locks onto mine, eyes soft and patient. Calm in a way I desperately need right now.
“I know this isn’t going to help,” he says quietly, “but you have to stop caring what other people think. Especially fucking Christopher.”
He sighs, shoulders sagging, like he knows it’s useless trying to talk sense into this part of me. “They’re going to find out anyway. We just have to rip off the Band-Aid.”
“I know, but if Christopher’s here, then Andrea’s here too.”
“Fuck Andrea.”
Andrea is Christopher’s wife. She might be even more perfect than he is, at least in my yiayiá’s eyes.
“Fuck all of them,” he says. “Babe—look, I’ll do whatever you decide. I’ll be right here. Next to you. The whole time. And I’m not going anywhere.”
I don’t respond. I’m too busy managing the storm raging inside me, twisting tighter as his hand slides up my neck, tucking a loose piece of hair behind my ear.
“It’s going to suck,” he adds quietly. “But this will blow over.”
His eyes search mine, steady and sure, and for a moment—this moment, at least—I believe him.
So I nod.
“Good,” he says.
He slides the ring back onto my finger, presses a kiss to my forehead, and opens the door.
I sit up straighter, bringing my glass of wine to my lips. Yiayiá hates slouching, and right now I’m trying to go as undetected as possible. I’ve kept my left hand hidden for most of dinner. But Matt keeps glancing at me as the main course is brought out by Yiayiá’s staff.
My mamá was more welcoming of Matt than I expected. She even kissed him on the cheek and told him how handsome he looked.
Probably because Yiayiá wasn’t looking. My mamá fears her just as much as I do.
Still, I didn’t miss the flicker of disappointment she gave me when no one was looking.
And Pappoús, of course, was on his best behavior. He greeted me with the warmest hug, kissed my cheek, and told me it was good to see me with a man. He welcomed Matt, shook his hand, then gave me a quiet look of warning that said tread lightly while your yiayiá is here.
Tread lightly.
As in, don’t do anything to upset her.
Well…
Shit.
Lucky for me, Christopher’s been droning on about all his success, not just at work, but in life. Andrea nods along beside him, wearing a proud, practiced smile.
His head is somehow even bigger than Matt’s, and his ego? Unparalleled.
“I just invested in a company in Saudi Arabia that’s going to make me massive amounts of money.”
I roll my eyes. So what?
Yiayiá smiles proudly at Christopher, then darts Matt a look that says everything about how she feels. It takes everything in me not to blurt out that Matt’s working on a resort in Switzerland that’s going to land him on the Forbes billionaire list.
And the part that’s almost laughable?
Everyone at this table knows Matt has more money than all of them combined. But Christopher still feels the need to compete. To one-up him. To be better.
He isn’t. Not in one single category.
Matt clears his throat, calm and deliberate. “We have some exciting news as well.”
My heart shoots straight into my throat, and the glare I give him could cut glass.
My mamá looks at me when Matt doesn’t say anything more. “What is it?”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, my brain scrambling.
It comes to me.
“I’m remodeling Sherry Wolf’s home in the Hamptons.” I force a smile.
“That’s wonderful,” my yiayiá says. She actually seems... proud. “Sherry Wolf is a lovely woman. Very generous. I heard she gives millions every year to the children’s hospital.”
Matt taps my foot under the table.
“She is very generous,” he says smoothly, validating Yiayiá. “And a good friend of mine,” he adds, validating himself. “But that’s not the news I was talking about.”
He reaches for my hand, which I’m tempted to snap away from him. Instead, I let him weave his fingers through mine. He holds it there, squeezing gently, reminding me he’s here. That he’ll share the burden.
His gaze burns into me. Waiting.
Waiting for me to stop being such a damn wimp and come clean.
“What is it, kouklaki?” Pappoús asks from the head of the table.
My pulse pounds, my stomach knotting, and for a brief moment I’m convinced I’m going to hurl right here at the dinner table.
Matt squeezes my hand again.
“Um…” I glance at him, then around the table, hesitation clawing up my throat. And then, before I can think better of it, I blurt, “Matt and I got married.”
Silence.
A gasp.
Someone’s fork clatters against their plate.
“Yesterday, actually.” I smile, reaching for more of the glazed carrots, because my yiayiá never makes anything but lamb as a main dish.
Relief washes through me, fast and intense. Even though I know the interrogation hasn’t even begun.
But Jesus.
Getting that off my chest?
It was everything.
Like every ounce of fear I’ve carried about this whole thing with Matt, with us, has been tied to this moment, weighing me down in ways I didn’t even realize until now.
It’s silent for way too long. Uncomfortably long.
I can feel everyone staring, including Matt, as I scoop more carrots onto my plate, acting natural. Playing it cool. Like I always do.
Somehow, I know Matt’s smiling. That he’s proud of me. And that feeling is gold—worth every bit of shit I’m about to get.
My pappoús breaks the silence first. “I knew he always loved you. Didn’t I say during your last visit that he loved you?”
Oh my God.
I could crawl under the table. I don’t even dare look at Matt.
My mother’s next. “I’m confused. Wha—how?” she stutters. “How could you get married and not tell me? Where?”
I’m too high off the rush to answer, dopamine spilling into every nerve.
Matt steps in. “We got married at City Hall yesterday. I asked Jordan to move in. We’d already been talking about getting married, and her lease was up, so we decided it made sense to do it now. We’ll plan a big wedding for next year.”
Everyone at the table goes still.
“We were even thinking Greece,” Matt adds casually.
A smile spreads across my lips as I turn to look at him, gratitude swelling behind my ribcage.
He studied the notes.
All of them.
And God, that feeling I’ve always had for Matt—the one I’ve buried more than once, afraid to look at it, afraid of how much it could hurt—comes slamming into me without warning.
It’s terrifying.
Because I know what this is. And I also know it isn’t going to last. This marriage has a timer.
A beginning… and an end.
“Christopher and I were just in Greece a few months ago,” Andrea pipes in, breaking the silence. She turns to my cousin. “Weren’t we?”
I’m grateful for the interruption, but holy shit, this woman has zero emotional intelligence.