Page 74 of Roaming Holiday

“You scared me.”

“Is this all right?” he asks, gesturing to the room. “I can tell them that you?—”

I set my phone down. “No, it’s fine,” I insist, lowering my eyes. “I just wish you trusted me enough to tell me from the start.”

“Hey,” he says, stopping me mid-stride with a hand on my waist. “My trust in you is the only reason we’re here. I haven’t seen or spoken to my grandparents in years.”

I blink in surprise. The people out there clearly love him. “How come?” At his hesitation, I add, “Is it… the socializing thing?”

He clears his throat. “Believe it or not, it’s harder with family.”

Wesley is naturally withdrawn, yet I can’t recall him being anxious or awkward whenever we’re together. “Were you… was it ever difficult to talk to me?”

He gives a bashful smile. “No. Never.”

“Wesley!” Dimitri calls. “Va eni, verá, verá!”

Come here, look, look!

We find him holding up his iPhone, a broad smile hidden by his distinct mustache. On the screen is a pretty brunette with clear blue eyes and a pleasant expression.

Wesley blanches. “Cora?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” she replies sarcastically in English. “The sister you never called back after hanging up on her in the middle of the night because you got a work call.”

He sighs, failing to come up with an excuse as I figure out what work call she means. From his look, I realize it was the night in Antina.

I gasp, covering my mouth. “I think that was my fault.” Dimitri hands me the phone. “I needed his help that night.”

She lifts a brow. “At one o’clock in the morning?”

My face heats. The last thing I need is for Wesley’s sister to think of me as “the booty-call my brother hung up on me for.”

“I was lost,” I hurriedly add. “I was out and—and my phone died so I had to borrow someone else’s to call for help.”

She smiles at my rambling attempt. “You work with Wesley?”

I nod. It’s not how I’d describe our relationship, but the alternative is revealing that I’m the princess. Cora shrugs. “I know by now not to ask questions about the job. I’m Cora, by the way.”

“I’m Nina. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Found ‘em, found ‘em!” a woman in the background cheers, running up the camera while sliding on a pair of glasses.

“This is our mom, Olive. Say hi, Mom.”

Olive lifts her chin as she studies the screen, adjusting to her lenses. “Oh, she’s beautiful.”

Cora snorts. “She can hear you.”

“Sì, panímorísi.” Callie nods and smiles in understanding. “Beautiful.”

“Oh!” Olive quips. “Hi! Sì, Callie. Sto.”

Wesley takes the phone when Cora asks how we ended up here. Callie gestures for me to sit beside her as she peels some apples. Although strict with Wesley and Dimitri, she’s kind and gentle with me. She’s patient as I gather the confidence and stumble out my Maldanian words and tells me that my accent is good. We spend the first half of the evening peeling and chopping and she shows me how to make falafel balls.

My assumption about Wesley growing up here is true; he and Cora reminisce about childhood memories, including Cora streaking through the neighbor’s orchard in the backyard on the night of her twentieth birthday. The conversations switch between the two languages as the phone gets passed from one to the other. There’s laughter and sibling banter and I’ve never seen Wesley smile ear-to-ear before today.

Callie continues talking to Olive over FaceTime and gestures for me to follow. “You come, uh,” she says in a thick accent, pointing to a basket by the back door. “We take the vegetables.”

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