Page 94 of Hold Me Today

Nick

Hugs,Nick.

“He’s killing me,” I mutter, running my thumb along the edge of my phone case. It wasn’t supposed to end up this way: Nick becoming the first person I think about when I wake up and the last person I talk to before conking out on my twin-sized mattress.

A fake relationship.

One overhaul of a salon.

I’m going to need to talk to Effie about my feelings for her brother. I know she warned me away. I know she was only looking out for both mine and Nick’s best interests, respectively, but I think . . . I think I want to try out something more with him. Hell, we’re practically dating anyway, and my life hasn’t otherwise imploded. That’s good news in my book.

Plus, I’m stillme. Mina Pappas, hair-salon owner, lover of fantasy movies and bright, bold lipstick shades. Nothing has changed for the worse, only for the better. Somewhere along the way, Nick has become something so much more than just my best friend’s older brother who I crushed on back in high school.

He’s becomemybest friend. My partner-in-crime. The one person I know I can trust to get me, no matter what. If I could watchThe Lord of the Ringswith him every day of the week, just to listen to him bitch about Frodo, I would in a heartbeat. That’s how far gone I am—Frodo is my favorite.

Besides Legolas, of course, becauseyum.

“You can do this,” I tell myself.

“Can do what,koritsi mou?”

My head snaps up at the sound of my mother’s voice, and at the Greek term of affection she’s always used for me:my daughter. It’s always felt a bit like a slight, if only because my dad never calls me that himself. It’s alwaysErmione, or, if he’s feeling particularly good-humored that day,Mina.

Standing in the doorway in her night robe, my mom’s blonde-bouffant is tucked in pink hair rollers that are straight out of the 1980s. On her feet are the samepandoflasthat Katya bought her for Christmas two years ago, and though they’re a little tattered in the toe area, she refuses to get rid of them.

I toss my phone in the mess of clothes on my bed. “Just getting ready for that trip I told you about.” I wonder what she might say if I confess that I’ll be sharing a room with Nick all weekend. She’d probably be beside herself with joy—her eldest daughterfinallydating a Greek man, the only thing she and my dad ever asked of me.

“Find yourself a nice boy, Ermione. A Greek boy. He’ll take care of you.” She’s repeated the words so many times that I can repeat them verbatim, and though it rubs me a little raw to think I’m falling into their plans for my future—their narrow-minded, you’re-only-good-for-one-thing plans—I want Nick way too much to consider sacrificing what we’re building for the sake of sticking it to my parents where it hurts.

He doesn’t deserve that.Idon’t deserve that.

My mom enters my room, her shoulders stiff as she looks around the space. “Of all my babies,” she murmurs, “I knew you would come home, Ermione.”

There’s nothing remotely positive about her words, not with that disappointed look on her face. “It’s not permanent, trust me.” I give her my back, unwilling to let her see thatIfeel disappointed by her lack of faith in me. “I’ll be out of your hair by next week.”If not, I’ll be begging Effie to let me camp out on her couch.

“You need to find a nice, Greek boy.” She plucks at a sweater I was considering bringing with me and moves it over so she can perch at the head of the bed, near my pillows. “This hair business,koritsi mou. . . it’s not going well.” Her accent is thick and stained with disapproval. “You lose your money and then?Your stairs break and you come home.” She clucks her tongue, then tips her head up in that classic, Greek head-nod I’ve seen from my family since birth. “Óxi, it’s no good.”

Age-old frustration grinds my molars together as I shove a pair of jeans into my small, weekend suitcase. “Katya is in graduate school for business management.”Calm, I warn myself,stay calm.I force out a heavy breath before continuing. “You andBabaare paying her tuition.”

My mom doesn’t even look contrite at the mention of her and my father shelling out thousands of dollars for Katya’s expenses. My sister isnota brat, and she never takes a thing for granted. She’s all that’s good in the world and has one of the best hearts I’ve ever met, but that doesn’t help the pure hypocrisy in this house.

“Your sister is different.”

This is a conversation we’ve hashed out hundreds of times before. Back when I had to stay home to babysit instead of joining sports teams or drama clubs oranythingbesides sit in this damn house all day long until my father came home from work and my mom decided to leave whatever friend she hung out with that day.

It wasn’t that I was good at nothing, it was that between her and my dad, they trained me to only be good at one thing: being a parent.

Icooked dinner for Katya and Dimitri.Ipacked their lunches for school.Isat and supervised when they had friends over.Ihelped them with their homework when I didn’t even have time to help myself. And maybe I would have done better in school if it weren’t for the fact that responsibilities fell on my plate as a kid like rain falls from the sky during a storm.

There was no time to dream when all my hours were spent catering to the dreams of others.

My gut twists angrily, and I whip around before I can think better of it. “How?” The word explodes from my mouth like thunder piercing the sky. “How is Katya different than me? Go on, I’mallears, Mama. You tell me why my sister can be studying for her MBA onyourdime while I should be selling the businessIown and marrying the first Greek man who asks me.”

My mom sits with her shoulders straight and her mouth pursed and her fingers tangled in her lap. “Koritsi mou, Ermione, your sister—”

“Is? What?” I bite out the words, shoving my hair behind my ears.

“You are the oldest.”

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