I chuckle, and she laughs too, some of the tension easing.
“Tiny but mighty.” Our eyes lock, and fuck, I’d give anything to kiss her right now, melt the fear away with the warmth of my mouth. “Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“Yeah, right.” She snorts. “I’m nothing like her. I doubt she ever sat in the backseat of a car on the way to her yiayiá’s house scared shitless.”
“Well,” I say lightly, bumping my shoulder into hers, “I also doubt she ever married a guy her family didn’t approve of behind their backs.”
“Oh, she’d never step out of line.”
“You aren’t out of line, babe. Yours just wasn’t drawn with a ruler. That’s okay. Be proud of who you are.” I squeeze her hand. “I am.”
A smile ghosts her lips, just briefly, before she blinks and looks away. “Thank you. Not just for saying that, but for coming with me. It means a lot.”
“Well, you wouldn’t be dealing with any of this if it weren’t for me. Probably should’ve taken two shots.”
She lets out a soft laugh. “No shit.”
I take a steadyingbreath in the hallway of Jordan’s grandparents’ condo, overlooking Central Park. It’s prime real estate. The kind that stays in families for generations.
Jordan’s no more relaxed than she was in the car. She’s rigid and tense, nervous energy radiating off her.
Hell, evenI’mnervous, but I’d never let her know that. I can take the beating. Mostly because I don’t give a shit what these people think. They’ve never liked me, and they’ve been hard on Jordan her entire life, setting expectations no one could ever live up to.
Jordan’s a natural-born people pleaser.
It’s a terrible combination.
She looks beautiful, though. Dressed to the nines. Designer dress. Heels. Not a hair out of place. Where most people show up to family dinners in sweats, ready to unwind, Jordan shows up in her best—polished, perfect. Mask on.
It’s expected here. Her yiayiá wouldn’t blink if you walked in wearing cocktail attire. She’d appreciate it, even.
Christ. Just standing here, it already feels suffocating. I’m dreading it. I know I’ll drink more than I should. More than I want to. It’s the only way through the night.
One large glass of wine after another.
My mind flips through the old rules Jordan used to drill into me when we were younger.
Be on your best behavior.
Don’t over-speak.
Don’t swear.
Don’t make crude jokes.
And for Christ’s sake, I better remember the damn notes from today.
Chapter Twenty-Six
JORDAN
The buzzingof the lights in the hall is all I can hear, and even that seems muffled.
Matt’s holding my hand. Or maybe it’s me holding his. I’m not sure, only that I’m squeezing way too hard.
My fingers are cold, but sweat beads along my hairline, damp under my arms. My chest feels tight and heavy.
It’s silly, really, to be this nervous. It’s just a family dinner. Not a big deal.
