Page 47 of Hold Me Today

You can do this!

Si se puede!

Oops, wrong language.

Naí boreís!

That’s better. Never let it be said that I’m not an overachiever.

The Stamos matriarch is still venting, rambling on about Nick’s lack of babies and how disappointed she is that she won’t have any grandchildren to spoil when she kicks the bucket—i.e. dies—and I clear my throat, set my wineglass down and move to stand up.

“KyríaStamos—”

“Nick should come!”

My gaze flies to Sophia, who only clarifies, “To Maine.” She leans across the table to settle her hand over his. “You should totally come with us to Maine.”

The man looks positively terrified. “I wasn’t in your grade.”

“And?” Sophia visibly squeezes his hand. “We’ll trade one Stamos for the other. You know, the married one for thesingleone.”

Before I have the chance to throw out that Nick isn’t single, not really, she’s whipping around toKyríaStamos and bursting into a fluent string of Greek. I envy her ease with the language, but that doesn’t stop my gaze from volleying between the woman decked out in all black to the woman thirty years her younger, who’s wearing so much pink, I’m worried Pepto-Bismol might come calling.

As much as I want to ask what’s going on, that would be like admitting that I might as well be as non-Greek as Sarah. I search out my best friend’s wife now, noticing the creases between her blonde brows as she struggles to wrangle the conversation into something coherent to an outsider.

You and me both, girl.

She catches my eye and cocks a brow, as though to say,a little help over here!

Unfortunately, she’s all on her own. The words are moving way too fast for me to cling onto one of them, let alone all, and I inhale slowly to ease my frustration. Frustration with myself, not with the people at this table. It’s not their fault that I’m me. Mina Pappas, my mother’s daughter—and not my father’s blood. Or rather, I’m the girl who’s always wanted to belong, to feel like I fit in . . . and I’ve been reminded all my life that I don’t. At school, I was the dumb girl with the Barbie fetish; at home, my dad never made it a secret that I’m nothing but the product of a short-lived affair with some random guy my mother met on a trip to America before they immigrated to the United States. A mistake my fatheroh-so-kindlyoverlooked for reasons they’ve never divulged.

But my half-Greek blood is something he’s always made me aware of: that I’m not Greek enough, not Pappas enough, a little too wild, a little toounlike him, my adopted father. Growing up, I used to wonder how my father and myTheioProdromos, his brother, could be so incredibly different. One thrived off anger and bitterness; the other wielded a smile like his personal weapon. I don’t know if my uncle ever knew that I wasn’t his brother’s real daughter, but he never made me feel anything less than part of the family when we visited him. Those summers in Greece were my favorite times of the year—although that had to do with being near Nick 24/7 as well.

Still, my half-breed lineage definitely isn’t something that’s known outside my immediate family. Ahem. Rather, my mom’s infidelity isn’t known to anyone outside of my immediate family . . . although I did let the secret slip to Aleka Stamos way back when.

Because she was so nice and motherly and sweet and I was a kid in desperate need of comfort.

Because even then, when I was around twelve years old, I found every way to rebel against Yianni Pappas. It didn’t matter thathedidn’t know that Aleka was in on the family scandal.Iknew and Effie’s mom knew, and whenever my dad started in on scrutinizing me for things I couldn’t change—like, you know, his wife’s infidelity—at least I had somewhere safe to retreat. With the Stamos family, I never felt anything less than supported.

Even tonight, Aleka’s hug when I came inside soothed my frayed nerves, and George, who is my dad’s opposite in every way, took the seat beside me so he could ask questions aboutAgape.Do you need any help?he asked.I am proud of you, Mina, he praised with a pat to my shoulder and a familiar twinkle in his eye.

Love. The Stamos family has it in spades, though, in many ways, Nick and my dad are a little too similar for comfort. Both men are uptight. Both men can be reserved, their true emotions shielded from everyone around them.

“I’m not fuck—” Nick clamps his mouth shut, biting off the curse before it can truly greet the world. He rubs a hand over the lower half of his face, his annoyance written in his expression.

Okay, maybe he’s notsoemotionally stunted. The man curses like a sailor, and in two languages at that.

Aleka jumps into the fray, casting a glance at Sophia like she hates having her mother-in-law lose her cool in front of people who aren’t family. “Think about it,Nikomou,” she says. “It could be fun, yes?”

“Like a root canal on the first day of my period.”

Oops, that one was me.

Nick leans forward, elbows on the table, and turns his head toward me. He’s two seats away, on the other side of his dad, but that doesn’t stop him from announcing, “I’ll go if Mina goes.”

I open my mouth, then snap it shut. I do it again because I can’t think of a damn thing to say that isn’tyou’re out of your flipping mind. “I—”

Except now he’s visibly warming up to the idea. With a little, self-satisfied grin he can’t even hide, he plucks up his beer bottle from the table and drains the rest in one swallow. “Yeah,” he says, voice all smooth and velvety and confident, “we’ll go together. One car. A full weekend of skiing and—”

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