“Anything else we should know?”
“My brothers will be cool. Well, I warned them to be cool, but they may poke at you, especially at me. Dad will ask you business questions. He’s a construction foreman, so he’ll want to talk shop. Mom will ask a lot of questions about your family, and don’t be surprised if she’s nosy about your love life. She may even ask why you’re not married yet.”
“Great,” I said, dripping with sarcasm, as Linden laughed.
“I just want them to know you before… you know, before talking about relationship status stuff. We have to build them up first, make them like you. Then we can ease them into it.”
I sighed as I made a turn onto Wisconsin Avenue, which would take us up to Chevy Chase. “They’re going to think we manipulated you into this.”
I watched Atlas shrug in the rearview mirror. “Then we’ll have to convince them otherwise. I’m capable of deciding for myself.”
We drove in silence, and I stewed over everything Atlas had told us. Making a good impression should come easily to us since we were always making deals at work, but this was Atlas’sfamily. If they didn’t like us, it could prove problematic in our relationship.
“So… I hope you like them,” Atlas said after a while.
That right there showed how important family was to him, and all the more reason to make a good impression.
“We will,” Linden assured him.
It took about twenty minutes of fighting DC traffic to finally reach the Stavros’s home. It was a two-story brick house, but it wasn’t the typical colonial style for the area. It was one of those homes built around the early 1950s, where everything seemed out of place, but meant to convey modernism. It wasn’t the prettiest house in the area, but I knew his parents worked hard for it. Chevy Chase, MD, was incredibly expensive.
“Your dad is a construction foreman, but what does your mom do?” I asked, parking the car in the street in front.
“Mom owns a hair salon.”
“Your parents must do well?”
“I guess. I mean, they bought the house way before Andreas was born. He’s the oldest. So… almost thirty years ago? I grew up in this house.”
We got out of the car, and I locked it, while Linden grabbed the flowers he bought for Atlas’s mom.
“I really wish we had brought something more, like dessert,” I said.
“No, everything we eat, my mom made. If you brought food, it would imply her cooking is inadequate.”
I huffed a laugh. “Fair enough.”
Linden leaned into Atlas with a smirk. “So, can I call your mom ‘Mama Stavros’?”
Atlas snorted, unlocked the front door, and walked inside. “She just might love that.”
I couldn’t remember the last time my hands got clammy from nerves. I casually wiped my palms on my slacks as Linden and I followed him.
The house was traditional in style and a bit dated, but it was comfortable. It was filled with knick-knacks and framed photos everywhere. The air was heavy with the scent of spices and cooked meat.
“Atlas? Is that you?” a woman yelled from the kitchen.
“Hi, Mama.”
When she came out of the kitchen to greet us, I was shocked to learn there was a female version of Atlas. She was even shorter, with the same black hair, but hers wasn’t nearly as curly, and she had it swept up into a ponytail. Even as short as she was, you could instantly tell that she was an imposing woman.
She gave Atlas a fierce hug and a kiss on each cheek before greeting us. “You must be Atlas’s employers. I hope he’s been behaving himself at work.”
“Mama! Oh my gawd!” Atlas looked at us pleadingly with adorable pink cheeks. “Please tell her I’ve been good.”
And there went my brain to what a ‘good boy’ he’d been. I took her hand to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I’m Hugh Cross. And yes, Atlas has been a lifesaver at work.”
“We will remove formalities. You may call me Elena. His father is Christos.”
