Page 77 of The Accidental Honeymoon

"And you ran off with your cake baker?" one of my aunts gasps. She clutches her pearls.

“After my fiancée left me standing at the altar, I married Calla.” He looks like he’s sweating bullets, like a kid playing Operation.

"So fast! Was it the magic of fate or...?" She lets the question hang. Her suspicion is palpable.

"It was love at first sight," my mother cuts in. She beams. "Isn't that right, Calla?"

I want to strangle her but plaster on a smile. "Uhhh yep.Once we knew that we could be together, we just—" I make a ‘taking off’ gesture while whistling. Why? I have no idea.

Jay, ever the quick study, jumps in. "I just couldn't resist Calla's charm."

I shoot him a look. I'm half amused, half exasperated. The younger cousins giggle.

I notice something I hadn't before. Jay's genuine excitement about other people. He's not just tolerating my family. Even though he’s so clearly overwhelmed, he's engaging with them despite their loaded questions. Even enjoying responding.

That’s something new that I hadn’t noticed before. It makes my heart squeeze in my chest.

"So, when do we get grandchildren?" my grandmother booms. "Calanthe’s not getting any younger!"

I choke on my drink. Jay lets out a nervous laugh. He glances at me to see how he should play this.

Before he can dig us into a deeper hole, my mother cuts in. "They'll have to go to Greek school. You know, classes at the Cathedral. Our kids went. Right, Calla?" she asks.

The family nods and breaks off into smaller groups, talking about Greek school.

Jay breathes out. I can't help but admire the way he's navigating this minefield. He's more adaptable than I gave him credit for.

A small part of me starts to wonder if we could actually pull this off. You know, be a real couple.

It’s funny. Jay and I don’t have to fake anything right now. We are just being our genuine selves. I can’t decide if that’s cute or absolutely terrifying.

"Come on," I say. I gently pull Jay away from the table. "You need a break."

We retreat to the kitchen. I hand him a glass of waterand he downs it in one gulp. He leans against the counter, eyes closed. "Your family is... intense."

"You have no idea." I roll my eyes. "And this is just the warm-up."

"I get it." He shrugs. "If my parents had feelings, I’m sure they would be grilling you, too.”

I clear my throat. "We should get back."

We eat a lavish meal, each plate heaped high with lamb, roast potatoes, couscous salad, ripe tomato slices sprinkled with pepper,lahnosalata, lemon rice, andbriam. Mom and myyiayiakeep trying to refill Jay’s plate.

I lean over and whisper in his ear. “Just say no. They are experts in making you feel like you’re hurting their feelings by turning down more food, but I promise you’re not. You have to be firm.”

He doesn’t take my advice and ends up with a third helping of lamb and cabbage salad. I laugh and he just shoots me a look.

Once we finally finish, the dining room calms down a bit. The initial frenzy gives way to the languid pace of a level ten food coma.

Just as I think we might escape unscathed, my father appears with a bottle of ouzo.

"Ouzo!" Jay says. “Now this is a part of Greek life that I already like.”

My father pours two generous shots. He hands one to Jay.

"A toast," my father declares. "To family."

Jay hesitates for a split second. He clinks his glass against my father's. The ouzo goes down hard. Jay's face contorts in a mix of pain and surprise. He sputters and coughs.

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