Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 214(@300wpm)
“Papa, how are you?”
He pulls me back to look me over. “As beautiful as ever,” he says in Greek. My father was born here, but his father was born in a small town in Greece. They moved here for a better life, and that’s exactly what my Pappous—or should I say, grandfather—did. He died when I was only two, so I don’t remember a lot about him, but my father talks of him often, which keeps him alive in my mind. Papa tries extremely hard to get me to speak Greek when I’m around him, which I refuse most of the time. Although, sometimes I can’t help it as it comes naturally when he speaks to me in Greek.
“Is Mama here?”
Papa nods leaning in and kissing both of my cheeks then grabbing my hand, pulling me up the five stairs until we reach the large, stained-glass French doors leading into the house. Honestly, they’re completely over the top but stunning, with their colors reflecting the light from inside the house.
“Of course,” he answers. “She’s cooked your favorites. Now, you sure you can’t stay the night?”
I shake my head.
Personally, I think they should have had more than one child. I have no idea why they didn’t, but for reasons unknown they were never blessed with another. I’m sure if Papa had a son, he would be completely different with me.
“No, I have work tomorrow. You know this.”
“When you marry, your husband won’t want you working this much.”
I shrug. It’s killing me not being at work right now—there isn’t a chance in hell a husband will stop me from working.
“We don’t live in your time anymore, Papa. Women own multimillion-dollar companies now. It’s a woman’s world.”
He scoffs at me.
As he does, my mother walks out with her apron on, covered in flour, and I try to not roll my eyes when I look at the stereotypical housewife. Her hands circle my waist pulling me into a hug the same way my father did. “You look tired. Let me feed you.” This is her answer to everything, she always wants to feed me. Her hands pull me to the dining room, which is set for us, plus my uncle, my father’s younger brother, Alec.
“I have to leave after lunch, Mama.”
She shakes her head, her soft waves of beautiful, dark chocolate brown hair falling around her face. “Nonsense! You can stay as long as you want.”
“I really can’t.”
“You’ve met someone?” She spins on me, pinning me with a stare. “Don’t tell your father. Okay? It’s best he doesn’t know.”
I nod my head, having no damn idea how the hell she even knows. Does she have some kind of ESP, where she can see inside my mind?
There are many things she tells me not to tell Papa. And I have always listened. Because despite the fact I don’t agree with her being locked up in this house and existing as nothing more than a damn housekeeper, I know she knows my father better than I ever will. Papa will never change. His perception that women should be at home, pregnant, and not working, means he’s stuck in the past. Regardless of that fact, though, I still love him.
Mama helped me with my café. She was instrumental in driving Papa to accept that I have a life away from here and that having my little café makes me happy.
My mother brushes her perfect hair away from her immaculate face. Her makeup is flawless, and that’s something I’ve always admired about her.
“Why?” I end up asking while leaning in super close.
She kisses my nose and shakes her head. “Not today. Okay? Just not today.”
I don’t push her anymore.
My uncle steps in. His voice is loud, and he slaps my father on the back. When he notices me, he picks me up and spins me around like a child. He’s only ten years older than me—my pappous had him later in his life. I’ve always gotten along with Alec, even if he is the son my father never had.
“Missed you, Squirt.”
I squeeze his shoulders. He’s still so much larger than me. “You need to work out. You’ve lost some weight lately?”
Alec laughs, placing me down, knowing I’m playing with him. Alec’s large, and he is easily mistaken for one of my father’s bodyguards.
“You need to put some on, too. And I plan to come visit this café of yours next week.” His smile is big and bright. I’ve always felt comforted when I’m around Alec. Even if I have heard he’s anything but nice to anyone else but us.
“You don’t want to go there, it’s pink,” my father spits while waving his hands around and shaking his head. “My girl has no taste in stunning decor.”
Alec rolls his eyes at my father’s words. “I will. And maybe take a selfie or two for the ‘Gram,” he says while laughing.