Hold Me Today: Put A Ring On It

by Luis, Maria

  Knowing that what I’m about to say is gonna shock the hell out of my parents, I square off my shoulders and add steel to my tone. “I love her. Mina, I love Mina.”

  I don’t know what I’m expecting for a reaction but it’s not the one I’m given. My dad claps me on the back with a whoop! and there’s no hiding the tears that gather in my mom’s eyes as she whispers, “Oh, Niko, finally.”

  That last word has my brows shooting up. “Finally?”

  Sheepishly, she looks to my father. “Nick, you are not . . . you are not the best at pretending.”

  Pretending what? For me to get my shit together after all the years and realize I’ve had my head up my ass for just as long? “Ma,” I start, “I don’t know what you think—”

  “Are we ready to go?”

  At the sound of Mina’s suitcase wheels rolling over the tiled floor, I move toward her instinctively. Taking the suitcase handle from her grip, I frame her face with my other hand and claim her mouth with mine. She jolts under my touch, eyes going momentarily wide.

  “They know,” I mutter under my breath when I pull back.

  She glances around me to stare openly at my parents. “They do?”

  Like they’re welcoming her into the family—even though she’s been one of us for decades—my mom and dad throw their arms around Mina, kissing her cheeks, pinching her chin. Poor Mina looks like she’s seconds away from crumpling to the ground in embarrassment.

  “All right, everyone. We’ll see you when we get back.” I manage to disentangle her, and, without giving my yiayia time to join the festivities and ruin it all, I usher Mina out the door to the car. I put her suitcase in the trunk along with mine, then climb into the driver’s seat.

  Mina plops down in the passenger’s seat. “That was . . .”

  “Fun.”

  The look she sends my way is all are-you-kidding incredulous. “I was going to say insane, but, sure, fun works too.”

  I keep an eye on the road as I pull away from the curb and steer the car down the street. I know my mom wanted me to cool it and let Mina come to me, but I feel like she needs to know that I’m here. If she needs me. Fuck, I hope she does. “Mina, I—”

  Her fingers curl into a fist in her lap, and I hear the gentle exhale of her breath. “When we get back, Nick, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. But I just want to have fun—no stress, no real life for all of two-and-a-half days. Can we do that?”

  I bite back the words begging to be released. Words like I love you and please, take a chance on me, on us. “Yeah, sure.” I give a curt nod to show that all is well. “We can definitely do that.”

  Or we can try, at least, however good that’ll be for us.

  33

  Nick

  Bethel, Maine, is the quaintest, most picturesque New England town I’ve ever seen. There’s not much more to it than one main street—appropriately named “Main Street”—with Victorian houses and shops lining each side of the narrow road. The town sits at the foothill of the White Mountains, and everywhere I look are fog-tipped mountains, iced-over streams, and pickup trucks.

  Looking at all the snow outside, I’m predicting a lot of time spent on my ass this weekend. Skiing is gonna prove to be a battle of the wills, and I’m not sure I’ll emerge victorious.

  With Maine also comes Sophia.

  Mina, Dom, and I haven’t been in the bed-and-breakfast lobby for more than five minutes before I hear her squealing from the stairwell. “Eeep, you guys are here!”

  “She’s never sounded so excited to see me in her life,” Mina mutters under her breath.

  Whereas the three of us look like we’ve been traveling for hours, Sophia’s decked out in a slim dress with a furred collar and the same furry trim at her wrists. She whizzes right past Mina to clamp her arms around my neck for a tight hug, which I barely return, before turning to Dom.

  Her grin is lethal—and not the good, sexy kind.

  He looks ready to run for the mountains—literally.

  “And who do we have here?” she asks, sauntering close with a sway to her hips that all but says you will be mine. I’ve never been so thankful to be off a woman’s radar in my life.

  Dom’s dark eyes shoot to mine, pleading.

  I open my mouth. “This is—”

  “My good friend, Don,” Mina exclaims, leaving my side to stand by Dominic. She pats his chest like they’re the best of friends. “He’s gay. Right, Don?”

  Oh, sweet Jesus.

  Silence pervades our group of four, and I risk a glance at Dom to see him physically holding back his laughter. He’s got a balled fist pressed to his mouth, and when he cracks out, “And ready to mingle,” he nearly loses it.

  Sophia looks from me to Dom—or Don—and then to Mina, like she’s trying to figure out if she’s being fooled. “Well,” she finally drawls, “are you Greek?”

  “Might be.” Dom flashes her a grin. “I’ve got no idea.”

  That doesn’t seem to appease her at all. She sniffs and folds her hands behind her back, which only manages to throw her chest out with sublime overconfidence. “Endaxi.” Fine. Kicking her chin up, she stares at us with a little less pep than she had coming down the steps. “You’ll find the weekend’s schedule in your rooms. Don’t be late to tonight’s event.” She turns to go, only to whirl back around and home in on me. “I was disappointed to learn that you booked a room with Mina for the weekend, Nick. Especially the room with the fireplace. That was my room.”

  She flounces off before I can get a word in.

  “Don DaSilva,” Dominic muses, rubbing his chin. “Can’t say I’ve batted for the other team before, Mina, but I like the way you think quick on your feet.” He nudges Mina in the shoulder, then grabs his duffel bag from where he dropped it on the settee to our left. “Meet you guys back down here in thirty? I’m game to explore the town if you are.”

  With a plan in mind, we go our separate ways, Dom tromping up the stairs while Mina and I head for the last room on the first floor. The wood floor creaks beneath our feet, and if I’m being honest, this place looks like my grandmother’s wet dream.

  Lace and crochet decorate every window. The wallpapers are a muted, paisley pink. As I unlock the door to our room, I can’t help but feel like I’m walking into a Victorian dollhouse. It’s unnerving as hell.

  Glancing down at Mina, I mutter, “Let’s hope for the best.”

  I let her go in first, only to realize I need to duck my head or risk smacking it on the frame. “Gamóto.” Hunching my shoulders, I step into our temporary room for the next two nights. I set my duffel bag and Mina’s suitcase down by the door, noting its crooked frame. If that’s any indication as to how this weekend is going to go, we’re in for a doozy.

  The rest of the room is decent enough. A full bathroom with more paisley wallpaper that should be thrown out or burned. A tiny kitchenette with floors that quite clearly slope. The bedroom itself is large, and the as-promised fireplace exists like the only beacon of hope.

  Mina bounces on the bed with a sheet of paper clutched in her hand. “Our weekend schedule,” she announces, shaking the paper. “You ready for this?”

  I sit down beside her, and the mattress dips deep beneath my weight. Oh, this is gonna be fun. “As much as I can be.”

  Clearing her throat, she points to the first item on the list. “It seems the kind Sophia has given us a few hours this afternoon to do whatever we want, but tonight we have dinner at the Bethel Manor up the street for—and I repeat verbatim—dating games and dinner.”

  “That sounds terrifying.”

  “Which part?”

  “Which one do you think?” I lean back, allowing my weight to fall onto the mattress. Right before I make contact, I hold my breath and pray the damn thing won’t give out beneath me. I’m a big guy, but I’ve never worried about breaking beds before. Then again, I never thought I’d fall through a staircase either. “The last time I played any sort of dating game, I was fourteen and p
laying spin the bottle.”

  “Ah, a classic.” Mina’s face fills my vision as she braces her weight on her hand. “Who’d you have to kiss?”

  I barely remember. “Some girl from homeroom, I think. No tongue. There was a parent chaperone.”

  “A chaperone?” She sounds absolutely aghast at the thought. “You’re kidding, right?”

  I chuckle, low. “Wish I was. It was more scarring than I’ll ever admit, especially when one of the guys tried to get to second base and the dad—our chaperone—only turned on the TV and ignored the fact that his son was sticking his tongue down this girl’s throat. What about you?”

  Her honey eyes bore down on me, wide and unassuming. “You’re funny, Nick.”

  I didn’t think that was ever in question. Lifting one arm, I slip my fingers into her usual tamed and perfectly wavy hair. “Tell me what you mean.”

  She huffs out a breath. “I didn’t have my first kiss until I was eighteen. No Seven Minutes of Heaven. No spin the bottle—though after hearing your story, I’m pretty sure that I’m the lucky one.”

  Eighteen . . . a year after her prom night. Angling my fingers at the base of her skull, I tug her down until she’s inches away. “If there are any games tonight, just know that I’ll be first in line to pop your cherry.”

  Her shocked laughter warms me inside out, and if it weren’t for Dom calling to check on our ETA five minutes later, I would have been perfectly happy to never leave our rickety mattress.

  * * *

  We spend most of the day checking out the boutiques along Main Street. The snow holds off long enough for the three of us to feast on fudge from a gas station, of all places, and to stop in an all-in-one type shop directly across from our B&B. With walls made of wood and the furnace burning hot, it’s easy to imagine the two-story boutique as a log cabin in the middle of nowhere.

  Then again, Bethel, Maine—beautiful as it is—isn’t exactly the center of civilization.

  “I’m gonna check out the winter apparel,” Dom tells us when we step inside. “I’m hopin’ they might have something thicker than what I’ve got.”

  I pluck at his rain jacket—fat lot of good that thing will do him tonight when it drops into the teens. “You’re not in California anymore, Toto.”

  He flashes me the bird and heads off to the clothing section. “Asshole,” he calls out over his shoulder.

  Laughing, I turn back to Mina. “Anything you want to look for?”

  She smiles up at me, and if it’s not quite as bright as the ones she usually keeps in reserve for me, I try to keep the worry at the minimum. “How about we just browse around?” she says. “We’ve got time to kill anyway.”

  We wander through the various sections, my hand linked with hers. This store has everything a person could ever need, from paintings and artwork to even a mini-special-gems exhibit. They sparkle under the glass cases, drawing Mina’s attention like a shooting star darting across the sky.

  “Like them?” I nod toward the line of purple amethysts shining under the lamps.

  “Love them.” With a little shrug, she ducks down to look at them head-on. “I remember going to the Museum of Science as a kid for school. At one point they had a gem exhibit and it was just amazing. I mean, some of them stood nearly as tall as me.”

  I lean my ass against the case. “The dinosaurs got to me.”

  She doesn’t bother to hide her chuckle. “Such a man,” she says, a teasing note the only undercurrent to her voice. Maybe she’s feeling better after whatever drove her to my parents’ house? I can only hope. “Let me guess, you were enraptured by the T-Rex.”

  “Pshh.” I wave my hand at her. “Overrated. The Allosaurus has my vote.”

  “Because it was bigger than the T-Rex?”

  “Nah,” I murmur with a wide grin, “but it was faster. More vicious. Shouldn’t you know this, Miss Jeopardy?”

  “Seems like I missed the dinosaur episode.” She bumps her hip with mine, and I instinctively curl my arm around her. Our coats get in the way, so I slip my fingers into the back pocket of her jeans. “Please tell me you’ve seen Jurassic Park.”

  “Of course I have.” She pauses, and then adds, “I mean, I’ve seen the Chris Pratt version. Because, Chris Pratt.”

  Mock-groaning, I drop my forehead to her shoulder. “Way to let a guy down, koukla. That Jurassic Park doesn’t count. We’re adding it to the list of movies to watch.”

  “Are we?”

  “Yup.” I let the p pop, squeezing her ass through her jeans before stepping away and drumming my fingers on the glass counter. “Now, asking for a friend, which one of these gems is your favorite?”

  * * *

  Turns out, “dating games” is as much of a shit storm as we predicted.

  The dinner plates have barely been swept away by the restaurant staff before Sophia launches up from her chair and proceeds to stand at the front of the room. “Thank you all for coming up to Maine!” Clapping her hands together, she does a little shimmy that coaxes some laughs out of this weekend’s victims. “We’re the last ones standing in our grade—single and ready to mingle!”

  Mina elbows me in the side, hissing, “My nose is tingling. It’s a bad omen.”

  I sling an arm around the back of her chair. “At least you know most of the people here. Dom and I are out of luck.”

  This weekend’s shenanigans consist of twelve of us, including Dom. Although Mina seemed nervous when the others stopped by to say hello during dinner, she inevitably warmed up and relaxed. Or maybe it was the vodka talking. Either way, I’m two years older than everyone else—aside from Dominic—which means I may recognize faces but nothing more.

  I’m going into this weekend completely blind, save for my partner-in-crime sitting beside me.

  “I thought we could do a round of speed dating,” Sophia goes on, “but then I thought . . . screw it, we’re all adults! We should play a fun game.”

  Something tells me that my idea of a “fun” game and hers have very different definitions. Idly, my fingers play with Mina’s dark strands.

  “So! We’re going to play Attached at the Hip! Does anyone know what I’m talking about?” A few hands shoot up, but the majority of us do nothing but stare back at Sophia blankly. She counts all those who are in the know. “If you’re clueless, never fear. Pretty much, we’re all going to write down a body part on a slip of paper—I’ve got us covered—and pop it into a hat. We’ll be paired into teams of two. Each of you will pick a piece of paper, and then you’ll need to make sure those body parts are always touching.”

  “And if they don’t?” calls out a guy with a man bun. “What happens then?”

  Sophia’s answering grin is downright diabolical. “You take a shot and you’re out of the game! Easiest rules ever. Don’t stop touching, ever. Not even between positions.”

  As though she has it all choreographed, the doors to the private room we’re in swing open and two servers tromp in with shots perched on black trays.

  “How well do you hold your liquor?” I whisper to Mina.

  She makes the quintessential oh, shit face, and I figure that about sums up this night. “Not well enough,” she grumbles, “especially if it’s Tito’s.”

  On my other side, Dom leans forward, elbow on the table. He points a finger at Mina, then says, “I don’t know whether to love you or hate you for the Don bit. This is either going to be the worst night of my life or . . .”

  “It’s time to pick partners!” Sophia exclaims from the front of the room. “Oh, Dooonnnn! You’re with me.”

  Dom’s finger practically wilts. “When I purposely lose this game, be sure to carry me back to my room and lock the door.” He pushes back his chair and strolls over to Sophia, looking like a dead man walking.

  For a moment, Mina and I do nothing but mourn his bad luck.

  Then we turn to each other in unison. “Partner?” we both ask.

  “All right, let’s do this.” I toss back the rest of
my wine and tap the base of Mina’s. “Operation Never-Stop-Touching begins now.”

  As mandated by the rules, all of us write down a body part and toss it into the hat Sophia’s procured from thin air. She shuffles them round, shaking the hat, then peers back up at us. “Do three more rounds of body parts, just in case we get ‘leg’ five times. Be creative!”

  I toss my jacket on the back of my chair, then loosen the knot of my tie. One glance at Mina shows she’s taking this seriously too. She’s kicked off her high heels and put her hair up in a high ponytail. When she catches me staring, she offers a blinding grin. “Lucky for you, I wore trendy, fashion sweatpants.” She plucks at the soft fabric before dropping to her haunches in what I think she thinks is a stretching pose. “I’m flexible and prepared to do anything it takes to win.”

  Biting down on my lip, I do what every other man does when faced with a sexy woman showing off how agile she is: I pull my button-down shirt out from the waistband of my slacks and hope it’ll conceal the activity now happening south of the equator. There aren’t many days that I prefer ditching my jeans and T-shirts for finer clothing—in this moment, with my erection threatening to announce itself to the world, I’m fucking thankful.

  “Okay, partners! Stand together as a team.” Sophia ushers one of the servers forward, and I almost feel bad for the utter horror he’s about to witness tonight. “Sean here is going to come around with the hat. Don’t look at what the paper says until I tell you.”

  Mina and I line up together. When Sean meets us, we each reach into the hat as one, our knuckles banging against each other’s.

  “Hand tango-ing,” she says with a swift grin, “how good does it feel?”

  “Better than expected.” I meet her gaze. “Not as good as the horizontal tango, if you catch my drift, but it’s good enough for now.”

  She rolls her eyes but I see the lightness there, and some of my concerns drift away. Once everyone has taken a turn with the hat, Sean calls out, “Okay! Go ahead and look now.”