Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
She hums in response, but doesn’t ask, and for that I’m glad. After all, a regular background check isn’t going to unearth everything and anything about me. There are special measures that I’ve taken to retain my privacy, and as a result, my past is somewhat obscured.
But then, Petunia turns to me with another bright smile.
“So you said Key Largo was founded by your great-grandad, right? Were you close with him?”
I shake my head.
“No, because he died before I was born. But honey, I should clarify that I’m Greek-American, meaning I’m originally of Greek origin, but my dad moved our family to New York when I was a child. Yannis was never super-interested in the shipping business, so he wanted to leave Athens. As a result, I grew up right here in Queens. In Astoria, to be precise.”
Petunia gasps.
“OMG, I should have guessed because Astoria has a big Greek population, right?”
I chuckle.
“It depends on what you mean by ‘big,’ because we’re not the equivalent of Chinatown or anything like that. But yes, Astoria has significant Greek heritage, and I actually went to a Greek school there. I didn’t learn English until pretty late.”
Petunia looks stupefied.
“It wasn’t a bilingual school?”
I shake my head.
“Nope. Greek folks are extremely adamant about their kids learning the old language, so for the first couple years of elementary school, teachers speak exclusively in Greek. Only when I got to fourth grade did the curriculum become bilingual.”
Petunia nods.
“Yes, I know what you mean because like I mentioned, my adoptive father, Andreas, is Greek from Greece and he’s incredibly proud of his heritage.”
I shoot Petunia a curious look.
“Did your dad speak to you in Greek?”
She smiles ruefully.
“He did, but I was never really able to catch on, other than a couple words here and there. I don’t know, I just don’t have a great ear for languages. But I absolutely appreciate Greek culture, and I can make gyros, tzatziki dip and a lot of other yummy Mediterranean dishes. Andreas would pretty much only eat the food of his homeland,” she adds in a rueful tone. “So I kind of had to learn.”
I chuckle.
“Sounds like a character.”
She giggles.
“Yeah, Andreas is, but my adoptive father is great. He’s always taken good care of me, and my childhood was happy. I mean, we lived in a trailer, so it wasn’t like I grew up in the lap of luxury. But Andreas is a steady guy, and I never wanted for anything.”
I nod.
“Good,” is my reply. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“Of course,” Petunia continues, looking at a faraway place for a moment. “I have worried about my dad in the past because he just misses Greece so much. I guess we never went back to the old country because one, we can’t afford an international flight. But also because of me, I think,” she says. “Andreas knows my home is here, and never wanted to uproot us while I was growing up. He could go now, of course,” she adds. “But for some reason he hasn’t. Old habits die hard, I suppose, and Andreas still lives in the same trailer I grew up in, believe it or not.”
I nod.
“No, I totally get it. Warren Buffet still lives in a house he bought three decades ago, although he could obviously afford something nicer.”
Petunia nods.
“Still, I wonder about my dad sometimes because he seems lonely. Of course, Andreas has had girlfriends over the years, but none of them ever stuck. Who knows? I shouldn’t look too deep into my dad’s romantic life because it might just gross me out,” she says in a wry tone.
I nod and grin.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it would,” I agree. “Still, Andreas sounds like a devoted father, and that’s what counts.”
Petunia nods.
“I agree,” she says in a soft voice. “Totally.” Then she shoots me a curious look. “Have you ever wanted to be a father, Nico?”
My stomach contracts a bit because the fact is that I’ve never wanted to be dad in my life before. But being with Petunia has changed my world view, and lately, I’ve been having visions of the curvy girl growing big with my child in her belly. She would be a perfect mother: loving, nurturing, and a wonderful role model for our kids.
But what am I thinking? Petunia’s a hostess that I met at a sex club, and not only that, but there are secrets about my past that have yet to be revealed. As a result, I merely shake my head noncommittally.
“Never really thought about it,” I say in a casual tone. “Why, have you thought about being a mother?”
Unbidden, her hand slips to her belly, caressing the softness there.
“I have,” she breathes before looking up at me with wonder in those big brown eyes. “It would be amazing, don’t you think? A baby to dote on and to love.”