Page 90 of Love on the Rocks
I shut the door and leaned against it so I wouldn’t be tempted to turn around and let him in. I didn’t trust myself. I kept making the worst decisions.
* * *
I didn’t talk to him that night or the next day. Instead, I did the worst possible thing—a deep dive down the internet rabbit hole searching for more information about his wife. I knew she was named Nathalie, lived in Manhattan, and was a doctor with a politician father. It wasn’t hard to find her, and I immediately wished I hadn’t because she was beautiful, a sought-after dermatologist with her own cosmetics line and—wouldn’t you know it?—had made it on a 40 Under 40 list of influential New Yorkers.
As if I couldn’t feel worse about myself, I scrolled through photos of her at different charity events and political fundraisers. Not one article mentioned her husband. And there was noNew York Timesmarriage announcement I would have expected from someone of her social status.
If it hadn’t been for the pressure of preparing for the investors, I would have spent the entire day ruminating about her. But I was in the midst of professional panic, cycling through moments of profound imposter syndrome to delirious optimism.
While I was fiddling with that damn dessert again, someone knocked at the door.
“Not now,” I mumbled, and my stupid heart fluttered. Why did I still want to see him when I was so hurt and angry?
But when I opened the door, it wasn’t Nikos who stood there, but his mother. She held a baking dish in her hand and gave me a sheepish smile. “I hope I’m not intruding. I made somegalatopitaand wanted to bring you some information to help you with your project.”
“Come in.” I held the door open even though I wanted to close it in her face. “Would you like a coffee? Tea?”
“Tea would be wonderful.” She followed me to the kitchen island and set her dish down. “Now, you must try this. Do you have a plate?”
She served each of us a generous portion of the creamy custard pie. “Nikos’s favorite. I used to make it for him when he was a boy whenever he was feeling down.”
I didn’t miss the implication that he was currently feeling out of sorts. Good, I thought, but then it also made me want to cry.
I placed the sweets and a pot of jasmine tea on a serving tray and brought it outside. The sun was shining and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the cherry tree. I poured tea for both of us and took a bite of thegalatopita. It melted on the tongue. God, it was so much better than my dessert.
“Is there saffron in here?”
“Yes, just a little bit. It gives some savoriness. Have more.” She cut another square for me. “I’m sure it’s nothing compared to what you make. Nikos tells me that you are an excellent cook.”
She watched my reaction closely and could tell that I didn’t want to talk about her son, so she dropped the subject and extracted a manila folder from her purse. It was an example of the paperwork that I’d need to complete to sponsor asylum seekers in our restaurants.
“Of course, you’ll be working with the EU and the UK, so their procedures are different from the US. This is just to give you an idea. It’s a long and frustrating process. I would recommend speaking with the lawyers that work for your company.” She flipped to another page. “These are some of the contacts I’ve made through various NGOs that will give you a place to start and, of course, you can call me if you have any other questions. I’ve left my contact information here.”
“Thank you. This will be very helpful.” I took the papers from her. “I won’t have time to look at it today. I have to work on my test menu.”
“No, I see you’re busy with your preparations. Well, I think your hotel is a good thing for the island. Maybe some of the young people will want to stay. That’s what I’ve been telling Niko since the beginning, but does he listen to me?” She waved in a dismissive way and laughed. I smiled weakly in return.
“And all this led by a woman. I know it’s not easy.” She squeezed my hand and stood, sliding her scarf around her shoulders. “I won’t take up more of your time, but I did want to see you again before I left.”
“You’re leaving already?” I followed her toward the door.
“Yes, it’s a busy time of the year for me. And my poor attempt to convince my son to come back home has once again failed.” She sighed and grabbed my hand again. “I’m sorry for making a mess of things and making you think . . . well, I won’t lie. I have always hoped that Niko would come back if there was a chance that his marriage could be saved. But he explained to me that there’s no possibility of that. They never really loved each other.And I believe him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my boy in love. Until now.”
I stiffened. “Please, don’t . . .”
“No, he’ll kill me if he knows I’ve been here. But a mother knows these things and he’s probably too stubborn to tell you.” She let go of my hands and slipped out the door. “Best of luck to you with the restaurant. I look forward to eating there the next time I come.”
I watched her walk away across the square. That was the second time she’d dropped a bomb on me, and I didn’t know if I’d ever fully recover.
Chapter 36
How could she have fallen for such an unfeeling man? Angelos had enjoyed ruining her father.
“I never gave your father another thought. Until I met you…” his eyes darkened, his grip around her arm tightened. Mia thought for an instant that maybe, just maybe, he would admit that he had fallen for her too.
Then he pulled away and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Just as I will not think about this week when it is done. I promised you that.”
- One Week with the Greek
