Big Greek Baby Secret Page 4

  Victoria wasn’t from nobility, but her father was the president of one of the biggest banks in London, so she had a trust fund large enough to skip out on college and follow me around the world. We often joked that we wanted to have a fight in every country in the world, and we probably would have, too—it was all we ever did. As soon as the drinks stopped flowing and we dropped anchor somewhere long enough to get our land legs back, our differences would emerge, and we’d be at each other’s throats.

  That’s probably why I’d asked her to marry me on the water. The ocean was where our relationship worked best, and if we’d been on land at the time, I likely wouldn’t have asked her. It sounds bad, but it’s the truth.

  After the engagement, we stayed on the water for a couple of weeks, living off of dried fruit, cheese and crackers, and consuming enough alcohol that one spark was all it would have taken for us both to go up in actual flames.

  I thought Victoria was the most beautiful girl in the world. Like a siren, with thick red hair that she wore in a tangle of braids. She lived in her bikini and flip-flops, and her skin was a deep brown and freckled from the sun. She made me promise I’d love her even when we were old and she was covered in wrinkles and liver spots.

  “Always,” I said, kissing her nose. I was so happy because—in that moment, despite everything—I believed we would be together forever.

  Two weeks after we were engaged, we sobered up and left the sailboat at port. The sky was a bright, cloudless blue that we hated to leave for dry land, but we both knew it was time to break the news to our parents.

  Twelve hours later, Victoria was gone.

  I had so much work to take care of. My phone was ringing off the hook and I’d missed enough calls to fill my voicemail four times over. So, why on earth had I offered myself up as a tour guide? I couldn’t waste an entire day wandering around Barkas with a stranger.

  Maxine wasn’t really a stranger, though. Not anymore. I knew more about her than almost anyone else in my life, and we’d spent only one evening together. And it had been a great evening. Wonderful, in fact. I hadn’t been on a date in ages.

  Last night was not a date, I reminded myself, for the hundredth time. She’d wandered onto my property and we’d had a drink and a chat. A date required a pre-existing plan. Like showing her around the island. That was a date. And then, I circled back once again to panicked thoughts about work and the amount of emails sitting unopened in my inbox.

  Why hadn’t I been more clear? I could have just asked her on a date if I’d wanted to. Instead, I’d offered to be her tour guide. In my mind, it was a date, but what did Maxine think? I knew her biggest dream in life, that her ex-boyfriend’s name was Tony, and that, up until last night, she’d never tried whiskey before. Yet, none of that information gave me any kind of insight into her thought process. I was never this nervous before.

  Before.

  I hated that the worst day of my life had become the axis around which the rest of my life pivoted. Before and after. I wanted a new axis point. Maybe it would be last night. The night the beautiful American girl walked onto my property in a beach cover-up and watched the sunset with me. Before meeting Maxine, and after.

  Maybe.

  I’d changed twice before settling on what Petra called “island formal.” Tan linen pants, a white button-up, and a pair of slip-on loafers. By the time I was standing in the resort lobby, our pre-arranged meeting location, I could feel sweat dripping down my back.

  I could feel the employee who was working the front desk staring at me. I lived on the property, but I never ventured down to the main resort. I wanted to be annoyed with the young girl, but if the tables were turned, I would have stared, too. I kept to myself so much that most of the employees knew me by name only.

  Not my real name, of course. I used “Dimitri” as an alias in my day-to-day interactions with people. Only Petra and the resort management knew me as Andreas. They alone knew the truth. Everyone else knew only that I was rich and not to bother me. That was fine by me.

  Maxine had said she wanted to get an early start on the day, so the lobby was nowhere near maximum capacity, but it still felt crowded to me. Marble benches lined a fountain in the middle of the room, and each of them was occupied by at least one person—a few men reading newspapers, a woman and a little kid throwing coins into the bright blue water, a couple looking at a map of the island on their cellphones.

  The left side of the room opened onto the restaurant and a bar, but it wouldn’t open for a few more hours, and the chairs were turned upside-down on top of the tables. The front desk and a bank of elevators filled the right wall. So, I opted to stand stiffly in the center of the room between the front doors and the fountain, my hands in my pockets, rocking back and forth from my heels to my toes.

  “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

  I startled at the voice behind me, nearly tipping forward and falling flat on my face on the tile floor. That would have given something for the gawking receptionist to tell her coworkers.

  I turned around and saw Maxine standing there. All my annoyance and embarrassment burned away at the sight of her. She was stunning.

  She wore a white sundress that clung to her body before floating away around her knees. The straps were thin, revealing her red bikini beneath it. She’d twisted her hair back into a loose, messy bun at the base of her neck, escaped strands curling around her pointed chin.

  “I expected you to come from the elevators,” I said dumbly, my eyes still busy taking her in.

  “I’m in a room by the pool, so I walked around the building and came through the front doors. Sorry,” she said, though neither of us seemed to be sure why she was apologizing.

  “I wasn’t waiting long, though,” I said, finally addressing her first statement. “Just a few minutes.”

  I leaned forward and kissed her left cheek and then her right. I felt her stiffen at my touch, and I remembered Americans don’t kiss when they greet one another, at least not as a rule.

  “Good,” she said, cheeks red. She nodded her head slowly while her hands grabbed at the fabric of her dress, her fingers clearly itching for something to do.

  We’d lost the ease of the night before. The way she had stumbled onto my property and I’d offered her a drink had felt natural. No expectations, no commitment. But now, we were about to spend the day together. If she’d wanted to leave my villa the night before, she could have pretended to have a prior engagement and run away, knowing she’d likely never see me again.

  Now, though, I knew she didn’t have any plans. She had committed to the entire day with me. What if she didn’t like me as much as she thought she did the night before? What if she had a terrible time and I ruined her first ever trip outside of Wisconsin? I clapped my hands together behind my back and bit my lower lip.

  “I guess we should go?” she said, shrugging.

  I’d spent a good portion of the night before thinking of ways to sweep Maxine off her feet, to be the romantic lead and say the perfect thing. But apparently, none of it had stuck.

  “I guess we should,” I said.

  The sun had burnt away most of the clouds to reveal a vibrant blue sky, but the morning was still cool. I knew it would warm up within the next hour or so, but I worried about Maxine until then. Her slightly sunburnt arms were bare.

  “If I had a jacket, I’d offer it to you,” I said as we walked down the long, wide sidewalk that led from the resort’s main entrance to the road.

  “I’m fine,” she said, rubbing her hands down her arms. “I’m warm-blooded. Always have been.”

  “Warm-blooded?” I considered myself fluent in English, but occasionally, some phrases slipped past me.

  “I run a little hot,” she explained. “Even in the dead of winter, I can sleep with my window open and be perfectly comfortable.”

  I considered her words as we reached the main road. Straight ahead of us was a small inlet of sapphire blue ocean, surrounded on all sides by tall
cliff faces that rose from the water and towered over the land. Narrow pathways had been carved into the sides of the cliff centuries before, and people still walked the worn, smooth trails. Touristy shops selling sun hats and small jars of “authentic Barkas sand” that probably came from the seller’s own backyard lined the path. But hidden amongst the tourist traps, there were local shops. A woman named Helena sold hot and cold tea that she sourced and packaged herself. Another man made loukoumades at a tiny food cart in front of his house, which was built further up into the hill.

  “If you’re warm-blooded, are you sure you want to open a bed and breakfast in a tropical location?” I asked.

  Maxine indicated the cliff face and the water and then raised her eyebrows at me as though the answer were obvious. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “That’s actually where we’re headed,” I said.

  She pointed to the narrow pathway that was now straight ahead of us. The cliffs towered over the road, now, and the path took a sharp right around the rocks and disappeared.

  “We’re going over there?”

  “Yep. Let’s go!” I said, looking both ways and then darting across the street before any cars could come. I was halfway across the road before I realized that Maxine was no longer standing next to me. I turned and saw her frozen on the curb. “What are you waiting for?”

  “For that ledge to become wider and the drop off the edge of the cliff to be less deadly,” she said.

  Suddenly, I noticed her wide eyes, the paleness of her face even despite her sunburn. She was frightened.

  “You’re not afraid of heights are you?” I said, crossing the street again to rejoin her on the curb.

  She shook her head, the bun at the base of her neck bouncing and losing a few more strands of hair. “No, not a bit. I’m afraid of falling off the side of the cliff and plunging to my death.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I laughed.

  “It’s not funny. It’s a real concern. You should be afraid, too,” she said, placing her hands on her hips and turning to me. Her eyes were narrowed in frustration, nose adorably wrinkled.

  “I’ve walked this path hundreds of times and never once have I plunged to my death and died,” I said.

  Her expression didn’t change as she took in my words. Finally, she sighed. “That’s a pretty good track record.”

  “One hundred percent survival rate.”

  Maxine reached out and placed her hand on my upper arm. “Are you sure you don’t want to lounge around the beach all day? That could be fun.” She looked up at me and waggled her eyebrows.

  She’d been telling the truth before. Her fingers were warm on my skin, like tiny little heaters. I wanted to place my hand over hers and keep it there forever.

  “As nice as that sounds, this will be better,” I said. “I promise”

  Her face fell and her hand dropped away. I stooped down so I was looking into her clear blue eyes.

  “Would you rather go home and tell your family and friends about how you scaled a cliff and ate the best fried donut balls dipped in honey and cinnamon you’ve ever had in your life? Or, would you rather say you laid on the beach with the rest of the tourists like a beached whale?”

  “Are you calling me a beached whale?” she asked, bottom lip pouting.

  “I will only if you act like one,” I teased, tapping her arm lightly. “What do you say?”

  “Did you mention fried donut balls?” she asked, looking over my shoulder to see the cliff.

  I nodded. “The best on the island.”

  Maxine closed her eyes, lifted her chin, and took a deep breath. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll go.”

  “All because of donut balls?” I asked.

  “Don’t underestimate the power of dessert, Dimitri,” she said. Then, she crossed the street as though it were a catwalk and she’d never been scared in the first place, her shoulders thrown back, dress whipping in the wind.

  Though I was supposed to be the tour guide, in that moment, I would have followed Maxine anywhere.

  Our fingers were still sticky from the loukoumades by the time we reached the first landing on the cliff. The pathway turned and, rather than being met with another steep incline, the ground smoothed out and flattened.

  “Thank God,” Maxine said, licking her fingers and then running the back of her forearm across her head. “A few more steps and you would have been carrying me.”

  The stone path transitioned into dirt and then grass, and against the far rock face was a small stable. “Stable” may have even been too generous a word. It was little more than a short wooden fence that came up to my hip, and inside were four donkeys. They were standing around a square of sod, chewing on the grass.

  As we approached, a short man with a wrinkled face and a thick gray mustache hurled a new piece of sod over the side of the fence. It landed in the middle of the donkeys with a flop, and all four of them shifted slightly and began chewing the grass there instead.

  “Luckily, that’s what these guys are for,” I said, pointing to the donkeys.

  “For what?” Maxine asked, her forehead wrinkling as she looked around.

  Then, she saw the sign. It was a weathered piece of wood with fading paint smeared across it, reading, “Donkey Rides, 5€.”

  She shook her head back and forth, her mouth pulled in a tight line.

  “Are you afraid of donkeys, too?” I asked.

  She hit me with a withering glare. “I’ve only just became comfortable trusting my own feet on these trails. I’m not about to trust a donkey’s feet to carry me safely to the top.”

  “Hooves,” I said.

  Maxine paused. “What?”

  “Donkeys have hooves. Not feet.”

  “Dimitri!” she said, slapping me on the arm. I laughed and dodged her next swing. “This isn’t funny.”

  “The donkeys walk these trails every day. If they were routinely stumbling off the ledge and falling into the water, this man wouldn’t set up here. Losing donkeys equals losing business, and he doesn’t want to lose business.”

  Maxine looked at the mustached man behind me. He smiled at us, revealing a charming mess of crooked teeth.

  “Is there even anything at the top of this mountain?” she asked, throwing her arms into the air. “Or is this torture all for your own enjoyment?”

  I laughed. “I hardly call a scenic ride up an oceanfront cliff to be torture. Most women would find it incredibly romantic,” I said.

  The implications of what I’d just said washed over us both. I looked at Maxine to gauge her reaction. As soon as our eyes met, we both looked away—me towards the cliff, Maxine towards the donkeys. Did I want this day to be romantic? I suppose, in some part of my mind, I’d been planning an elaborate date day, but I didn’t plan to tell Maxine that.

  Now, however, she knew my truest intentions. She knew I was trying to impress her.

  “You didn’t answer the question,” she said quietly, her eyes appraising each of the donkeys.

  “What question?” I’d forgotten everything we’d been talking about up until my unplanned outburst.

  “Is there anything at the top of this mountain? Is it worth the ride?” she asked.

  “Oh, right. Yes. I definitely think it’s worth the ride,” I said.

  She filled her chest with air and then blew it out in one loud huff. “Okay, then. I want the donkey on the right.”

  I followed her finger. “The one who just pooped?” I asked, trying not to laugh.

  “Yes,” Maxine said, clearly fighting back laughter of her own.

  “Any particular reason?” I couldn’t see anything distinguishable about any of the donkeys. They looked the same to me.

  “He has thick back legs that look like they could support a load much heavier than me, and he isn’t eating the grass. I assume that means he’s full. And now that he’s…taken care of business…he’s all ready for a ride.”

  “That is sound logic,” I said, still chuckling.

 
Maxine rolled her eyes and smiled at me. “Be quiet and go get me my donkey, Dimitri.”

  I grabbed her hand and bowed deeply in front of her, my other arm pressed to my stomach. “Your wish is my command, m’lady.”

  It took three tries for Maxine to get her leg over the donkey and her feet in the stirrups, but when she finally did, she resituated her dress in her lap and then lifted her cupped hand in the air, spinning it at the wrist.

  “With you calling me m’lady, and now me riding a donkey up the mountain, I feel like royalty,” she said.

  “Members of royal families don’t often ride donkeys,” I said, screwing up my mouth in thought. “Mostly black town cars. Horses on special occasions.”

  Maxine raised an eyebrow at me and lowered her hand back to the reins.

  “Are you some kind of expert on royalty?” she asked.

  I looked over at her, confused, and then realized where I was. Who I was. I wasn’t Andreas Stanis, the nearly royal billionaire. I was Dimitri, mysterious businessman and tour guide for a day.

  “No, not really,” I said with a shrug, trying to play off the moment of panic I’d experienced at almost giving away my secret. “I’ve watched a few documentaries.”

  “Who hasn’t?” Maxine said. “I taped the royal wedding on my TV and watched it three times. So romantic.”

  My donkey sped up a bit, and I didn’t work hard to slow it down. The distance was nice. I needed a minute to gather my thoughts. Most of the time, maintaining my secret was easy. I didn’t talk to anyone on the island, and the few people I did talk to already knew my secret and were paid to keep it for me.

  I definitely didn’t make a habit of going on elaborate dates with beautiful women, so I didn’t have much practice in actively lying to someone. I tried to convince myself I wasn’t actually lying. Could omission be counted as lying? I had only neglected to tell Maxine my real name and my real title. Nothing huge. Besides, she would be leaving in a few days and my life would return to normal.

  I took a deep breath and told myself to focus on the moment.