Page 10 of Sweet Sinners
Yiayia handed Connor a plate of pastitsio, smiling at him like he’d returned from war a hero rather than tearing apart our family at the seams.
I took my seat beside Papou, the familiar chair feeling foreign beneath me. Everything looked the same, yet nothing was. Memories pressed at the edges of my mind—rare dinners with my father, his attention brief and carefully measured. A curt nod. A terse “good job” tossed my way before he retreated back to his office. My life had been spent away from this house—boarding schools, overseas trips—anything that could fill the hollow void he’d left in me.
Papou’s gaze settled on me, heavy and expectant. “Tomorrow is an important day for Cali,” he announced, pride lacing every syllable.
I managed a small, stiff smile.
“Her first official day as head of the company.” He raised his glass, eyes warm and approving. “She’ll accomplish great things, just as her father did.”
The mention of my father sent a chill sliding down my spine, but I raised my glass anyway—years of training overriding instinct. Connor’s glass, filled with water, stood out sharply among ours, all brimming with a rich, celebratory wine my grandparents no doubt selected for tonight.
“Yamas,” we echoed quietly, the word hanging between us as we drank.
The food smelled incredible—warm, comforting, the kind of meal that usually made everything feel normal again. But tonight, my appetite was nowhere to be found. Still, I turned toward Yiayia, her happiness so tangible it felt cruel to ignore.
“This looks amazing,” I said softly, offering her a small smile. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”
Her eyes softened as she met mine, and then, just for an instant, her gaze shifted toward Connor. “This isn’t only for you, Cali. It’s for Connor, too.”
Her words landed like a slap—sharp and startling. Did she see something redeemable in him that I couldn’t? Maybe she'd convinced herself that whatever hell he’d caused or endured could be forgiven. But I wasn’t wired that way. I couldn’t forget.
He deserved his sentence. Probably deserved worse. How could Yiayia overlook that?
Connor didn’t say a word, his fork quietly scraping his plate as the silence thickened around us, heavy and oppressive. Yiayia’s smile grew warmer, almost wistful, her gaze traveling across the table, lingering on something invisible, something I couldn’t grasp.
“What’s going on?” I asked finally, narrowing my eyes at her, that uneasy feeling in my chest sharpening. This wasn’t just a dinner. This wasn’t casual or normal—this feltintentional.
Yiayia exchanged a careful glance with Papou, something passing between them before she spoke again, gentle but unyielding. “Don’t worry so much, Cali. It’s just a family dinner. It’s been too long since we’ve all sat together.”
My eyes darted between them, waiting for the punchline. Connor just kept eating, his expression infuriatingly calm. Unbothered, like always. Bastard.
“It’s a bit of a goodbye dinner,” Yiayia finally added, her voice gentle but firm, and my stomach instantly twisted.
“Goodbye?” I asked, the word coming out strained, barely audible.
Papou cleared his throat. “We’re going home,” he stated plainly, as if that explained anything.
I blinked, confusion gripping me. “We are home.”
“To Crete,” Yiayia clarified gently, holding my gaze. “There’s an issue with the land. Nothing serious, but it needs our attention. We’ll come back once it’s settled.”
My chest tightened painfully, the steady thrum of my heartbeat deafening. They were leaving. Leaving me here. Alone, withhim.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat, the wineglass shaking slightly in my grasp. “Okay,” I finally said, forcing the single word out. The mask slipped into place effortlessly, the calm, composed image my father had always demanded. Anything less wasn’t acceptable in his eyes, and I’d learned long ago to play my role perfectly.
I forced a smile, nodding slowly, ignoring the sting of tears threatening behind my eyes. Raising my glass, I drained the wine in one burning gulp, but it did nothing to ease the hollow ache spreading in my chest.
“I’ll take care of the greenhouse while you’re away,” Connor’s voice suddenly broke through the heavy silence.
My head snapped up sharply, just as my grandparents’ gazes shifted toward him.
Papou’s expression softened, a deep approval in his voice. “Thank you, son.”
Son.
I bit the inside of my cheek, fury mingling with the ache. I lowered my gaze, shoveling food into my mouth without tasting anything, swallowing past the bitter resentment growing in my throat. I refilledmy wineglass again and again until the bottle stood empty, and the sharp pain in my chest dulled into a quiet, persistent throb.
Ihatehim.
