Big Greek Baby Secret Page 5

  The sun reflected off the water below, making each wave look like it was crested in diamonds. The few times I could get Maxine to stop staring at the back of her donkey’s head and look over the edge of the cliff, her lips parted and her eyes glazed over as if she was in a dream.

  “That is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” she said, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

  “You said that five minutes ago,” I reminded her.

  She waved me away. “I didn’t know anything, then. Now, I know that this is the most beautiful thing I’ve actually ever seen.”

  More of her hair slipped out of the bun with every gust of wind, blond strands dancing across her back. When she looked towards the ocean, the bright sky cast her in silhouette, and her profile looked like a landscape painting. A beautiful mountain range. The rolling hills of her lips, the smooth incline of her nose, the valley of her chin.

  I wanted to say that she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, but it felt too real. We weren’t even on a date. Not really, anyway. And she’d be leaving in two days.

  Each time I reminded myself of that fact, fear nibbled at my insides. It felt like standing at the edge of a cliff and looking down over the edge. You knew, deep down, you wouldn’t really lose all sense of balance and tumble over the edge, but the thought of it was enough to make your toes curl and your heart flutter.

  I gripped the short reins of my donkey a little tighter and navigated him closer to Maxine. She wasn’t going anywhere just yet, and I was going to make the most of my time with her.

  Chapter 6

  Maxine

  It all felt way too good to be true.

  Every moment since I’d seen Dimitri standing in the lobby—his broad shoulders draped in white linen, his dark hair gleaming in the sunlight reflected from the domed skylight in the center of the ceiling—I’d had to remind myself I wasn’t in a dream. Eating the stickiest, sweetest fried donut I’d ever had in my life, having too much fun to even care that my face and hands were covered in cinnamon goop. Awkwardly climbing on the back of a donkey who would lead me up a mountain, allowing me to take in the most jaw-dropping ocean views I’d ever seen in my life. And, more than anything, looking ahead and knowing I was seeing it all with a man like Dimitri. A man who wanted to push me out of my comfort zone, who wanted me to experience the fullness of life, who seemed to be more concerned with my pleasure than his own.

  Then, we rounded the last corner.

  The cliff face that had been our constant companion for the last half hour grew shorter and shorter as we neared the top of the mountain. It disappeared into the ground, and I felt like I’d walked through a magical portal into another world.

  A white brick building sat in the center of a clearing. Wide blue-framed windows that filled most of the space from ground to ceiling were on each side of a matching blue door. The roof was a terrace with a blue wrought-iron railing around tables and chairs under bright yellow umbrellas.

  The left side of the building was surrounded by a white stone patio with the same tables, chairs, and umbrellas as the roof. Lightbulbs as big as my fist hung from wires that ran from the edge of the roof to the trees around the building, fanning out like rays from the sun. String music filled the air, though I couldn’t see any speakers. For all I knew, it could have been in my head, my brain’s way of completing the picture-perfect scene.

  “Where are we?” I asked, breathless.

  Dimitri had dismounted his donkey and was standing next to me, hand extended. I slipped my fingers into his hand and let him help me off my donkey. As soon as my legs met the ground, they wobbled. Dimitri wrapped a hand around my waist.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  I smiled up at him, certain I was blushing. “I think my legs fell asleep.”

  He laughed. “It was a long ride.”

  I wanted to let him hold me like that forever, but I also needed to move away from him if I wanted to catch my breath. It was impossible to slow my heart rate when I could smell his cologne. He smelled like vanilla trees, if vanilla trees existed. Which they didn’t, but I felt very strongly that they should.

  “Where are we?” I asked again, standing upright and trying to quiet the rambling in my brain. I looked for a sign on the front of the building but didn’t see one.

  “A café,” he said, gesturing to the scenery.

  “Does it have a name?” I asked, still not seeing a sign anywhere.

  “It might.” He shrugged. “But everyone just calls it ‘the café on the mountain.’”

  “I suppose that’s enough, really. I’m guessing there aren’t many cafés on mountains around here,” I said.

  “Actually, there are three others,” he said, laughing, his perfectly white teeth nearly blinding me in the sunshine.

  “Then, how do you know which one people are referring to?” I asked. “What if you told me to meet you at the café on the mountain? How would I know which one you meant?”

  “If you showed up at one, and I wasn’t there, I guess.”

  I shook my head, baffled.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked, leaning forward to gauge my reaction. I’d caught him doing it several times through the morning, so far, as though he couldn’t trust what I was saying and had to read my expression for himself. It made me feel oddly vulnerable, like I wanted to hide behind my hands. But also, I liked that he genuinely cared. It was clear he wanted me to have a good time.

  “I’m thinking that the food better make more sense than the name of the restaurant. I’m starving.”

  Dimitri laughed again and pressed his hand into my lower back. “Well, that won’t be a problem. You’ll love this place.”

  He was right. I did love “this place”, whatever its real name was. The hostess told us to seat ourselves, so Dimitri led me straight across the restaurant and out onto the terrace. He chose the table closest to the cliff edge and filled the air with his percussive laugh when I suggested he was secretly trying to kill me.

  “Are you still afraid of heights? Even after the trip up the mountain?” he asked when his laugh abated.

  “No, I’ve already told you, I’m afraid of falling. I don’t think that is a fear you can ever be cured of. And I also think it is a fear that all humans and creatures should have. Survival of the fittest.”

  Still, my very rational fears aside, we sat near the edge of the cliff, since the view was truly incredible. He ordered dolmades as a starter—which he described as grape leaves stuffed with rice and meat—and then shook his head when I told him I wanted a salad.

  “Are you telling me I can’t have what I want?” I asked, trying to hide my smile with a forced frown.

  “No, you can have whatever you want,” he said, his face buried behind the menu. “I’m just letting you know that I don’t support your decision.”

  “Why?”

  He lowered the menu, his caramel-swirled eyes much too distracting.

  “Because you are in a new country. You can get a salad anywhere in the world, but this is your chance to have authentic Greek food. I’d hate for you to waste it.”

  “Wouldn’t my salad be authentically Greek?” I asked.

  “In the same way a delivery pizza is authentically Italian.”

  “Wow, you have strong feelings about this,” I said, leaning forward to rest my chin on my fist. “What has salad ever done to you?”

  He rolled his eyes playfully at me. “Do what you want, Maxine. I’m just trying to be a good tour guide.”

  I’d forgotten that was the point of today. He hadn’t asked me on a date, even though it sure felt like one. He’d offered to show me around the island, help me experience Barkas like a local. Besides, why should I care if this wasn’t a date? We’d never see each other again, anyway. I had to leave in two days.

  “I suppose I did agree to let you show me around. Perhaps I should take your advice,” I said, folding my menu and setting it on the edge of the table. “You can order for
me if you think you can do it so much better.”

  Spoiler: he could. I didn’t quite catch what he said to the waiter, but the guy came back with his arms loaded down with a plate of meatballs surrounded by a creamy sauce, a whole fish flaked with herbs and dripping in lemon juice, baked tomatoes loaded with crumbly cheeses, and a basket of warm brown bread I wanted to bury my face in.

  “Is this better than salad?” he asked, right as I was preparing to stuff another mouthful of flaky, fresh-caught fish into my already full mouth.

  The food was, in fact, so good that I had forgotten all of my manners. I had transformed into a beast whose only purpose in life was to eat everything on the table and not explode.

  I placed a hand over my mouth and chewed quickly, trying to answer his question and keep him from seeing the partially chewed food in my mouth. After a few loaded seconds, I gave up and nodded vigorously, realizing it would be a good thirty seconds before I could swallow the truly enormous amount of food I had piled in.

  He laughed. “Yeah, I noticed.”

  Clearly, there was no point trying to feign delicacy. I swallowed and wiped my tongue across my teeth to make sure I didn’t have any bits of fish or lamb between them.

  “Hey! This is the first time I’ve had Greek food. Cut me some slack.”

  He held up his hands. “No judgment from this side of the table. These are some of my favorite dishes. But, what do you mean, this is your first time having Greek food? You mean, like, in Greece, right?”

  I shook my head. “I meant, first time ever. In my life.”

  His mouth fell open. “How is that possible?”

  “There aren’t a lot of authentic Greek restaurants in Wisconsin,” I said. “We’re mostly known for big wheels of cheese.”

  His eyebrows pulled together in confusion, and I wanted to reach out and smooth his forehead with my fingers. I resisted, of course, because that would have been creepy, but I learned in that moment that Dimitri looked good, no matter his facial expression.

  “Wisconsin is America’s dairy land. We have a lot of cows,” I explained.

  He nodded in understanding, and then shook his head again. “No, that still doesn’t excuse never having had Greek food. It’s the best cuisine in the world.”

  “I think Italy, France, Mexico and China would have something to say about that,” I joked.

  “One of the best cuisines in the world,” he corrected.

  “Have you eaten food in any of those countries?” I asked, desperate to learn something—anything—about my enigmatic tour guide.

  He took a sip from the white wine on the table, which, I’d gathered from the waiter’s expression, was very expensive, and nodded. “Yes, all of them. I’ve been very lucky.”

  “What was that like?” I rested my head on my hand, knowing I probably looked like a moony schoolgirl, but I didn’t have enough energy to care. My entire body was focused on digesting my food and learning about Dimitri. There was no room for embarrassment.

  “Delicious,” he replied with a grin.

  “I mean, traveling,” I said. “When did you go? What places did you see?”

  “That’s boring,” he said, waving me away. “I’d rather hear about what you think of the fish.”

  “It’s amazing, obviously. And there is no way my thoughts on fish are more interesting than your world travels. Come on, tell me something.”

  Dimitri slid his fork absentmindedly around his plate, and then dropped it, seeming to have made his mind up about something.

  “I travelled a lot with my parents as a kid. That’s when I went to most of these places. Then, I sailed around for a few years after college and visited a few more. I don’t remember most of it as I was drunk.”

  He rushed through the words as though it pained him to say them. As if talking about his own life was a kind of punishment. Even still, I couldn’t get enough of it.

  “You know how to sail?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “So, you have a boat, then?”

  Another nod.

  “Is it a big boat?”

  He shrugged.

  “Dimitri!”

  He looked up at me, startled. “What?”

  “Use your words,” I demanded.

  He smiled and then tipped his head back in a laugh, stretching his neck, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “Sorry. I don’t do a lot of talking.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  He looked up at me and then away several times before he sighed. “What will it take to get you to stop looking at me like that?”

  “Tell me a story,” I said.

  “A story?” he asked. “Like, a fairy tale?”

  I shook my head. “A story from your life. Just one story. Something real.”

  He seemed to shrink back at the last word, as if he’d rather make up a fairy tale than say anything about his own life, but then his eyes looked up and I could tell he was thinking. Finally, he began to speak.

  “When I was ten, my parents dragged me along with them to this…function. All of the guests were at least my parents’ age and none of them had brought their kids with them, so I was beyond bored. My mom had dressed me up in this hot, itchy suit that I hated, and this old man had been on stage for half an hour giving a speech about something I can no longer remember—but rest assured, it was boring.”

  I laughed, imagining Dimitri as a little kid in a stuffy suit. He looked so at-ease now, so confident in himself. It was hard to picture him ever being little.

  “The party was happening on this huge lawn, and just behind all of the tables was a giant oak tree with branches that hung over the crowd. Well, when I was young, if you showed me a tree, I’d climb it. And this party was excruciatingly boring and there was a perfectly good tree to climb, so…”

  “You climbed the tree,” I said.

  He reached across the table and patted my hand. “Patience.”

  My heart fluttered at the light brush of our fingers. I slipped my hand away from his and pretended to zip my lips closed.

  “So, I snuck away from my parents’ table and made a beeline for the tree. All of the adults were so enraptured by the old man speaking that no one even noticed me. The tree was huge, but there was a branch low enough that I knew I could jump up and grab it, and pull myself up onto it to reach the next biggest branch. And from there, it would be a piece of cake. The problem was, my suit pants were way too tight and nowhere near stretchy enough for climbing.”

  “Oh, no, Dimitri,” I said, covering my eyes for a second, sensing where the story was headed.

  He smiled and held up a hand to quiet me. “I said to be patient.”

  I pinched my lips closed and nodded for him to continue.

  “So, I slipped out of my pants and dropped them at the base of the tree. I had boxers on that hung nearly to my knees, so I was hardly naked. I jumped up to grab the branch, but then my shoulders felt tight because of my dress shirt.”

  “Dimitri,” I groaned, tense all over for whatever embarrassment was coming in this story.

  He laughed and continued.

  “And I decided I didn’t want to risk ruining the shirt, so I slipped it off and laid it with my pants. I had a white undershirt on, so again, I was clothed. No big deal, I thought. I jumped, grabbed the lowest branch, and pulled myself up. Then, I stood on the branch and grabbed the next branch, pulling myself into the crook of the tree. It was all going super well, so I decided I should shimmy out onto the limb that jutted out across the lawn.”

  I covered my eyes with my fingers, peeking out from between them as he told his story.

  “Again, things were going great…until a squirrel jumped down from one of the higher branches and landed a few feet in front of me. We just stared at each other for a few seconds, and then, out of nowhere, he jumped at me.”

  I gasped. Actually gasped. He was a marvelous storyteller.

  “My legs were wrapped around the branch, but the squirrel startled me, and my
body’s only instinct was to get away. So, I let go of the branch and…” He made a whistling noise and sailed his finger downwards through the air.

  “You fell out of the tree?” I asked, eyes wide.

  He nodded. “And broke my arm.”

  “Oh my God,” I said, leaning back and shaking my head with a chuckle I couldn’t help. “That’s awful!”

  “That’s not even the worst part,” he said, giving me a sly smile. “The old man delivering the speech, well, he was a very important, very wealthy man. Greek royalty, basically. I interrupted his speech by falling from a tree in my underwear and crying because of a broken arm. My parents had to lead me out of the party and drive me straight to the hospital. I was grounded for weeks.”

  “No way!” I said between snorts and giggles. I was completely losing my composure.

  He smiled knowingly and took a sip from his wine. “Well, there you have it. A story. A real story.”

  “Well, now you have to tell me a million more,” I said. “That was the greatest story I’ve heard in a while. It sure beats all my stories about singing karaoke in my room and tragic cooking mishaps.”

  “I’d love to hear you sing,” he said, leaning forward again so our faces were less than a foot apart. His skin was deeply tanned, but I could still see a faint bit of pink along his nose from our day on the mountain. It would probably be perfectly tan within the hour. Some people were lucky that way. Whereas I—no matter how long I spent in the sun—would always burn, peel, and then go back to being entirely pale.

  “I’m afraid my karaoke days are way over,” I said. Our eyes met, and we looked at one another for what felt like the first time. I could almost feel the walls coming down between us. Then, a thought struck. “What were you doing at a party with Greek royalty, anyway? Like, was he a king or something?”

  All at once, Dimitri closed himself off. The light in his eyes flickered out and he leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms. “It was an event my parents were invited to. I’m not exactly sure.”

  “Was that normal? Were you around royalty often as a kid?” I asked.