A grin pulls at my mouth as I reach her table. “You look like hell.”
She doesn’t, of course. She never could.
She lifts her drink to her lips, her face tilted toward me—cool, collected, very Jordan. Even if it’s a facade, the truth hidden behind her oversized sunglasses and jacket.
“Good to see you too,” she replies dryly. “Dick.” She nods toward the second mug. “Ordered you an Americano.”
“Thanks,” I say, sliding into the seat across from her. I take a sip of my coffee, and silence settles, comfortable and awkward, the kind only decades of history can pull off.
I lean back and take her in. Her hair’s pulled up on the top of her head in that messy-but-sexy way she always pulls off. But even with the sunglasses, she looks tired. Worn out. Sad. Like she hasn’t slept in days… or eaten… or even gotten out of bed.
“You okay?” I finally ask, breaking the tension.
Her lips press into a tight line. “Not really.”
I wait for her to say more, but she doesn’t.
Great.Classic Jordan. We haven’t spoken in months, and she’s already building walls I’ll have to break through.
Good thing I know how.
“You wanna talk about it?”
“No.” A small smile ghosts over her lips. “But I guess that’s why we’re here, right?”
I shake my head, frowning. “No. I’m here so I can make you feel like shit about the past two years.”
I’m only half joking.
Her bottom lip scrapes against her teeth. “Right.”
Awkward. Comfortable. Silence.
And I relish it as I burn my gaze into the dark lenses she’s trying, but failing, to hide behind.
Let her squirm.
I’ll fucking wait.
She rubs her lips together, shifting in her seat. Finally, she whispers, “I couldn’t marry Richard. I don’t know what came over me, but I was standing there—music playing, priest waiting, Richard at the altar.My pappoús linked his arm in mine to walk me down the aisle, and I just… froze. I couldn’t move.”
She looks down at her tea, takes a breath, then looks back up at me, a fresh tear sliding down her cheek. She swallows, and itkillsme seeing her like this. Hurting. Shamed. Desperate to hold it all together.
“I love Richard. I really do. But it’s like my future with him flashed before my eyes, and it just didn’t feel likemine.” She sniffles. “I didn’t mean to hurt or embarrass him. Or my family. God, the way my yiayiá looked at me the next day. The way everyone looked at me…” She shakes her head hard. “I just want to hide in my apartment for a year and pray everyone forgets. You know how the Greek community is. Everyone talks.”
I sit quietly. She doesn’t have to explain the rest. I know her well enough to fill in the blanks.
Her controlling grandmother lecturing her to no end.
Her mother making it all about her, crying to anyone who will listen.
Her sweet grandfather, heartbroken and devastated, but worried for her.
Her entire community whispering behind her back.
It is humiliating. Scarring. Soul-crushing.
And underneath all that? The one thing she inherited from her dad. Defiance. The part that wants to tell them all tofuck off.
