“They’re going to interrogate you.”
“I can handle it.”
“They’re going to ask when we’re getting married.”
“Leo.”
“I’m just warning you.”
“Are they actually going to ask that?”
He grins. “Probably within the first ten minutes.”
“Great. Love that for me.”
Emma comes barreling back, clutching her gray rabbit. “Okay! Now I’m ready!”
Leo grabs the overnight bag, I grab my purse and the Koulourakia, and we head for the door.
“Wait,” I say, stopping. “Are yousureI look okay?”
Leo turns around, walks back, and kisses me one more time. “You look perfect. Stop asking.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it.”
“I said okay!”
Emma tugs on my hand. “Annie, you look really pretty. Can we go now? I’m hungry.”
And just like that, my nervousness dissolves a little. If Emma thinks I look pretty, maybe I’ll survive this after all.
* * *
The subway ride was somehow too long and not long enough. I wipe my sweaty palms on my dress as we climb the steps of a stately, well-kept brownstone on a tree-lined street just west of Tompkins Square Park.
Leo’s grip on my hand is firm. Before he can even get his key out, the heavy wooden door swings inward.
“We’re here,yiayia!” Emma announces to the empty foyer, and barrels past the threshold, her backpack thumping against the door frame.
Then, it’s like a dam breaks.
We are flooded by people. A wave of warmth, perfume, and voices crashes over us. A woman with Leo’s eyes grabs my face and kisses one cheek, then the other with a softmwah, mwah.A man with a magnificent salt-and-pepper mustache does the same. “Welcome! Welcome! Come in, you’ll freeze out there!” It’s a chorus. My cheeks are kissed by people I’ve never seen before, each one smiling brightly, their hands squeezing my arms or patting my back. The men are grabbing Leo, pulling him into back-slapping hugs. “Leoni!There he is!” “Look at this guy, huh?” One uncle, his shirt stretched over a proud belly, holds him by the arms. “What, you’re too busy to call yourTheo? Eh,malaka?” But he’s grinning.
Leo laughs, a little breathless, and pulls me into the circle. “Everyone,lisso. This is Annie. My girlfriend.”
The word makes a visible ripple. Heads turn. A few aunts near the staircase stop their conversation mid-sentence. The approving sound is a collective, melodic “Aaaaaah!” It’s followed by a new, more intentional round of kissing. “Finally he brings a girl!” someone shouts. “A good one!”
Three women materialize from the crowd, forming a formidable, smiling tribunal. They are all variations of the same beautiful, expressive template.
“Annie, these are my aunts,” Leo says, nudging me forward. “TheaDespina,TheaAnastasia—everyone calls her Tasia—andTheaVioletta.”
Despina has a glass of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other, held away expertly. She’s all sharp cheekbones and elegant angles. “Leoni,mou,” she says, her voice like gravel and honey. “You found a supermodel? You couldn’t give us a little warning?” She kisses my cheeks. “Panagia mou, she is too beautiful for you. You must have lied to her, tell her you are rich, eh?”
A laugh punches out of me, nervous. “I’m not a supermodel, not even close.”
Tasia is softer, her smile immediate. She grabs my chin, squinting at me with terrifying affection. “So pretty, so pretty. You have a little Greek in you,koukla? You must.” She doesn’t wait for an answer. Violetta, the most animated, reaches out and feels a piece of my hair between her fingers. “Look at this hair! This is good hair! Thick. That’s Greek hair.”
