Page 119 of Hold Me Today

My father’s face turns a blusterous red. “Óxi.”

It’s all he says, and my mom physically shrinks into herself. Her shoulders round and her olive skin pales and the tapping increases speed. “Yianni,now.”

It’s the first time in my life I’ve ever seen her stand up to him, this man who isn’t my biological father and doesn’t even deserve the right to be my adoptive one either. He doesn’t move a muscle, not until Nick steps forward.

They exchange words in Greek that I fail to interpret quickly enough, and then my dad is storming out of the kitchen. I don’t expect him to leave, not completely, but either my mom doesn’t care or she’s itching to get whatever it is off her chest because her voice comes low and hurried.

“Prodromos.”

One word. One word, and my knees buckle.

I expect to hit the floor but a pair of familiar, bulky arms catch me. They haul me upright, tugging me into a broad chest. I feel his heart hammering against my back. “Mama—”

“I will not say this all again, Ermione.” Her face pinched, she casts a hasty glance toward the living room. “And he knows. I told him after Prodromos passed, and never once before. It was not . . . Yourtheio—yourfather—and I were, how do you say it? Together?” At my shallow nod, her lips flatten. “Only one time.”

“But you said he was American!”

Her cheeks flush with color. “I lied,koritsi mou. Because I was ashamed of my cheating, and Yianni and I were only just married. We were . . . Prodromos was a kind man, Ermione. A gentle, funny man, and yet my parents picked his brother instead for me. You know that our marriage was arranged.”

My breath comes fast and swift, and I’m thankful to Nick because without him, I’d be flat on my ass in shock. “DidTheio—did Prodromos know . . . about me?”

Shame chases its way across her features. “Óxi, no.”

I swallow, and it hurts. God, ithurts. All these years, I saw him, my real dad, and neither of us ever knew. He taught me how to ride a bike. He sat with me while I braided his hair and used butterfly clips to hold the dark, curly strands in place. I was the last person, outside of my grandparents, to sit with him in the hospital just before he passed. A drunk-driving accident—and not his fault.

I’m desperate for the rage to come. I’m desperate for anger to sharpen my tongue and say spiteful things. In the end, I only ask the one question that matters most: “Did you love him?”

Mama bows her head and her shoulders rise with a sharp breath. “I loved the idea of him, and I wanted . . .Koritsi mou, it is all I wanted for you to meet someone nice, someone who will treat you well and love you, someone who reminds me of . . . someone who reminds me of Prodromos.” Her gaze tracks from me to Nick, as though wondering if I’ve found the nice, Greek boy she’s always wanted for me. “I have not shown you the best love.”

But I tried.

I hear those three words even though she doesn’t say them out loud.

That’s the thing about secrets: they fester and they ooze with toxins and they infect every person around them.

I’m done being infected, even if that means removing myself from the inner Pappas circle.Except that you reallyarea Pappas.The news of my birth is shocking, and yet somehow not shocking at all. I’ve always seenBaba’s controlling nature. I’m not sure why today of all days my mom thought it fit to finally tell me who my real father is.

And that’s okay.It has to be okay, I repeat to myself.

“No,” I finally say, “you haven’t.” Because it’s clear to me that my mom is fighting demons that only she can battle. No matter how I was conceived, I’mhers. Mother or not, blood ties or not, I can’t go down in the flames alongside her. As forTheioProdromos, I’ll mourn his loss when I’m back in the safety of my home. “I want you to know, Mama, that I’m thankful—because if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be me, and Iloveme.” I reach blindly behind me, seeking Nick’s hand. Relief swallows the restlessness as soon as our palms kiss, his heat engulfing me. “I hope, one day, that you might be willing to share that best kind of love with me. I’m always here to talk, even if . . . even if it’s aboutBaba. You can be happy, Mama. You can be so much happier than you are now. And if you need me, I’ll always listen.”

Because that’s what true families do: they forgive and they learn and they adjust.

I hope, one day, that my parents will realize that they’ve driven everyone away. Deep down, I wish that my mom will see that an arranged marriage can be unarranged. She’s already given herself three decades to a mean bastard, but that doesn’t mean he’s entitled to another thirty years of her time.

Quietly, I tug on Nick’s hand, our signal that it’s time to go.

“I love you,” he murmurs to me, “and I’m proud of you.”

“Proud enough that you’ll let me convince you to stay home for the rest of the day and watchLord of the Ringswith me?”

“One bowl of popcorn or two?”

I wink at him, feeling the broken pieces of my heart mold back together—because of him. “Is that even a question?Two, of course. So we have backup after we demolish the first.”

We almost make it to the front door when I hear my mom shout, “Ermione, are you and Nick . . .together?”

I raise my gaze to the man himself. His pewter eyes glitter with good humor and love, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never felt so lucky in my life. “Naí, Mama. You told me to find myself a good, nice Greek boy, so I did. Only, he’s not always so good and he’s not always so nice, which means . . . he’s my perfect match.”

---