Chapter 31
Meirna
“Not cake. Not cookies.Nothing,” Bronte’s mother, Eleni, affirms, kneading handmade dough on her wooden countertop. “My husbandlovedeverything in the dessert category. You couldn’t keep him out of the kitchen when I was baking something. Butthis—” She smiles warmly, as if divulging a huge secret—“my son will eat in groves.”
Maybe it is, after all.
“What is it called again?” I ask, needing to write this down because I may have found Bronte’s kryptonite.
“Bougatsa,” his sister, Callie, replies, making her own creation of classic chocolate cookies at her mother’s side. “I’ll spell it out for you so you can make it at home.”
She winks at me, and both Bronte’s mother and sister have been nothing but hospitable and welcoming since we arrived.
Callie is beautiful with long, black hair and stunning green eyes. She’s petite, in a red dress-sweater that goes right above her knees. She swims in it, but her accessories really made it adorable and comfortable.
Eleni is no different, small in stature with the same gorgeousfeatures and pleasing smile. A completely different greeting from Catherine and Alan when I was first introduced to them.
They looked me up and down, clearly weren’t impressed with what they saw, and when they figured out that I worked, I won the gold medal for not being good enough for their son.
Bobby must’ve convinced them otherwise, or Catherine knew her son was only going to think with his dick when it came to me, so they caved.
If you want to call it that.
“Semolina Custard is the traditional way,” Eleni informs me, reaching for the bottle of wine at her left and refilling my glass without my asking. “But sweet Mizithra cheese is Bronte’s favorite.”
I havezeroclue where to get that, but I’m hoping I don’t need to ship it straight from Greece or wherever it’s made.
“We’re also making Vasilopita,” Callie says. “It’s a sweet bread reserved for New Year’s Day, baked with a coin inside. Whoever finds it has good luck for the rest of the year. Bronte got it this year, and now he has a new wife.”
Ompfh.
Yeah.
Still getting used to being one, with a man that wasn’t the man I was supposed to marry, but I can’t really complain.
He’s been…amazing.
“I made roast pork and turkey,” Eleni states. “I hope either one is okay. I forgot to ask Bronte if you were a vegetarian.”
“I’m not,” I confirm. “They both sound amazing.” I watch both the women work side by side while I sit on a stool from across the kitchen island when I ask, “Can I help with something?—”
“No,” they both answer at the same time.
“You’re our guest,” Eleni adds. “We just want you to relax, let us pepper you with questions, and enjoy the next couple of days with you.”
Okay, then.
I’m used to being Catherine’s bitch when she needs something moved or found, so this is different.
“Do you have any pictures of your wedding?” Callie asks, reaching for a pair of scissors when the answer is no.
Unless Bronte hired someone, but I highly doubt it since seconds after our “I do’s” he was wanting to fuck me.
“It was so unexpected,” I mutter. “I didn’t even think about it.”
Callie and Eleni share a look and both appear unpleased.
“Just another thing I’m going to chide him about,” Bronte’s mother grumbles. “That boy is normally so organized and particular about things. Theonething I need him to be on top of—the biggest day of his life—he forgets.”
