Hello, Hollywood! (23 page)

Verse eighteen was more than a little rocky, and verse nineteen was pretty much a wash. Still, by the time he reached that point, he’d won my father over. And my mother too, for that matter. And Aunt Melina. And Milo. And the rest of the Pappas clan.

“Son, welcome to the family.” My father slapped him on the back so hard Stephen took a couple of steps forward. He caught himself with one hand against the piano keys.

“Thank you.” Stephen offered a broad smile, then collapsed onto the piano bench, looking exhausted.

Everyone in the room began to talk at once. Fortunately, they were all talking
about
me, and not
to
me. That left me free to talk to the one person who mattered most. I sat next to Stephen and leaned against him.

He pulled me into his arms and kissed the tip of my nose. “I love you, Athena-bean.”

“Ugh. You had to call me that?”

“Of course. It’s a love name. I’m all about love names.”

“Fine. Then I’ll have to come up with one for you.”

He smiled. “Don’t you find all of this strangely ironic?”

“Ironic?”

“Yes. Jack and Angie started out as opponents and then became co-workers. They ended up in love in the end.”

“I know.” I giggled as I thought about it. “Crazy coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences.” He brushed a light kiss on my right cheek, then my left. “I’ve been through a lot of pain where love is concerned,” he said. “I didn’t think God would open the door for me to find a wife, let alone a wife with such a delicious sense of humor.”

“Oh, I have a delicious sense of humor?”

“You do. And we’re going to need that humor to keep things fresh.” He looked at me with such love that my heart felt like it might explode. “I can’t wait to see how our lives play out. It’s going to be a blast.”

“No doubt.”

A thousand questions were going through my mind. Where would we live? Would Brooke accept me as her mother? Would Stephen and I still go on working together after we got married? Would we really have a houseful of soccer ball babies? If so, would I keep working for
Stars Collide
, or would I give it all up to be a mom?

Calm down, Athena. You’ve been watching other married couples work together for months—your parents, Kat and Scott, Lenora and Rex. Everything will come together. Watch and see what God does.

Yes, married couples could certainly work together. They might have to jump a few hurdles, but it could be done . . . and done well.

“So, when’s the big day?” Kat raised her voice to be heard above the roar of the crowd. “Have you given it any thought?”

“I don’t have a clue.” My mind reeled. I looked at Stephen and shrugged. “What do you think?”

“Greece is beautiful in the springtime,” he said with a wink.

“G-Greece? Really?”

This seemed to get everyone’s attention. Mama and Babbas turned my way. So did Milo and Melina.

“Oh, that’s perfect!” Mama said. “Absolutely perfect.”

“Of course. Is there anyplace else to go on our honeymoon?” Stephen asked. “I’ve wanted to go all my life.”

Everyone went a little crazy at this news. Mama announced that the wedding should take place in Greece as well. I wasn’t so sure about that part. Getting married in my own church sounded pretty ideal to me, but a honeymoon in Greece? I could hardly wait!

Within minutes everyone in the room was chattering once again. I took advantage of the chaos to pull Stephen to the side. “I can’t believe I get to go to the place where my mama lived. And Mean-Athena.” I stopped myself and said her name once more. “I mean,
Aunt
Athena.”

“Funny how hindsight helps you see things in perspective, isn’t it?” Stephen ran his fingers through my hair and smiled.

“No kidding. I’m guessing she was never mean at all. Maybe she lived her whole life brokenhearted, sacrificing the only chance she ever had for love so that her family could one day benefit from the gift she would leave behind.”

“Reminds me of that verse about laying down your life for your friends,” Stephen said. “She pretty much did that, didn’t she?”

“She did. And you do too, Stephen. You’ve always been the kind of guy to put others first. Don’t think I wasn’t watching when you brought those aging Hollywood stars back into the limelight. You knew they needed another chance.”

“Everyone needs another chance, Athena.” Stephen lowered his voice, though I knew no one could hear us. “That’s the truth. Mean-Athena needed one. Zeus needed one. Milo. Paul. Bob. Me . . . We all need second chances. And I’m so glad that God gives them. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“Me either.”

“He also gives third and fourth and fifth chances, and I think we should too. That’s why we’ve got to be quick to forgive. Not hold grudges. That sort of thing.”

I sighed. “Do you realize you’re practically perfect in every way?”

“No, but I do realize you must be blind to think so.”

I laughed. “Not blind. I guess I just see your good traits first. If you have any bad ones, they’re hidden underneath the good.”

Stephen chuckled. “I only wish my nona had lived long enough to hear you say that. There are plenty of bad ones, trust me. And God isn’t finished with me yet. I’ve got a long way to go—as a father, a man, and a writer. I hope you realize that.”

“You think
you’re
flawed?” I started to tell him about my physical imperfections but stopped short. There would be plenty of time for my flaws to reveal themselves later. Right now I’d rather bask in the glow of our love.

Bask in the glow of our love?
How cheesy was that? It seemed the deeper I fell in love with this man, the goofier my writing got. Oh well. Maybe that’s the way it was meant to be. Maybe those romance writers had it right all along. The tingles. The buckling knees. The heaving bosoms. Maybe it was all meant to be.

Or maybe I just needed to stop thinking so much and let love lead the way.

I jumped into wedding-planning mode with a fury. With so much to do in so little time, how could I pull this off? Mama, of course, wanted me to have a traditional Greek wedding. The fact that we attended a contemporary, non–Greek Orthodox church didn’t stop her from wanting the usual Greek fanfare.

Babbas didn’t seem to care, as long as he could give me away. Kat was already looking for a maternity bridesmaid’s dress, and Brooke had pegged herself as a junior bridesmaid. My phone rang off the wall as she shared her enthusiasm with me. Not that I minded. Every day I fell a little more in love with that darling girl. She’d captured me on every conceivable level.

The wedding plans were such a blissful distraction that I almost forgot about the Golden Globe nomination. As the evening drew near, however, Paul and Bob—both nervous wrecks—reminded me on a daily, if not hourly, basis.

“We get extra tickets for the Golden Globes,” Bob said. “So you can bring a date, or what have you.”

“Fine,” Paul said. “I’ll bring my ‘what have you.’”

We all laughed at that. I knew, though, that his “what have you” was his ex-wife, and I’d been dying to meet her. Likely she would soon be part of the family too.

Kat, whose blossoming belly made me smile every time I saw it, helped me pick out a dress for the event. We had far too much fun shopping.

“Just think,” she said. “The next dress we’ll be picking out is your wedding dress.”

“One event at a time,” I said. “Let’s get through the Golden Globes and then we’ll talk wedding.”

I chose an olive-green satin dress with a beautiful neckline and fitted waist. Underneath several yards of satin, no one would see my cellulite-covered thighs. I wished I could put them out of my mind altogether, but with my honeymoon night looming in the not-too-distant future, I felt compelled to somehow make them go away. I also wished I could get rid of my love handles. And that embarrassing mole. Ack.

Oh well. Stephen had agreed to marry me. Surely he could learn to live with those things. Right? And who knew—maybe he had a few imperfections too. I hoped.

On the night of the Golden Globes, I forgot all about my cellulite. In fact, the evening flew by at such a whirlwind pace that it felt like a dream. I vaguely remembered the look on Stephen’s face when he saw me descending the stairs in that green dress. I heard the whistle that followed. I remembered how handsome he looked in his tuxedo, and how nervous he seemed as we drove to the theater. I laughed at Bob’s antics on the red carpet and stumbled my way through a mini-interview with the gal from
Entertainment Tonight
. And I definitely remembered the feeling that gripped me when
Stars Collide
was listed as one of the nominees.

What stood out most, however, was the moment the shout went up. As the announcer opened the envelope and shared the news that
Stars Collide
had won Best Television Series for a Comedy or Musical, my insides turned to mush. I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t stop shaking. In short, I became a Greek statue. Frozen in place.

My co-workers all flew to their feet in joyous celebration. Stephen took my hand and pulled me out of my seat, dragging me along beside him to the stage, where I found myself huddled together with Rex, Lenora, Tia, Kat, Scott, and the whole writing crew. Rex spoke a few tearful words on behalf of the cast and crew, and we headed back to our seats.

The rest of the night was a blur. After the ceremony ended, we climbed into the limo to ride to the after party, and I turned into a quivering mess. Thankfully, everyone else was still chattering about the night, so Stephen and I managed to have a private conversation. My eyes filled with tears, and I choked out a few words about how happy I was, and yet how terrifying it had all been.

“We’re in a limo, pulling away from the Golden Globes, where we won. We actually won.” I shook my head. “This is so . . . surreal. If we’d written it as a scene in the sitcom, no one would have believed it.”

“Truth is always stranger than fiction,” Stephen said. He slipped his arm over my shoulder and drew me close. “Haven’t you heard that?”

“I’ve heard it and I’ve lived it. After everything we’ve been through in the past few months, I’d have to say that the truth in my own life is definitely stranger than fiction. What happened to my normal, stable life?”

“Stable?” He laughed.

“Right. Stable. All I’ve ever known is stability. I’ve had a stable home environment. Stable family life. Stable love from my parents and siblings and other relatives. I’m stable Athena.”
Makes me sound like a horse.

“See?” he said. “You are a plotter. I knew it all along. You think things through.”

“Maybe, but not on purpose. These last few weeks have been filled with a lot of things that I never knew would end up in my story. The news about Aunt Athena’s estate. Milo and Melina’s wedding. Our engagement.” I turned to him and smiled. “I certainly never plotted any of that. And I never added in a scene at the Golden Globes.”

“And I never imagined how God could bless me by allowing me to win a Comedy Award. But none of these awards even begin to compare with how I feel about you, Athena.” He gazed at me tenderly. “Still, we’re a mess, aren’t we?” He flashed a smile. “I have to wonder if all writers are like this. I guess you need to loosen up a little in your real life. Don’t worry about everything being so calculated.”

“It’s your fault.” I punched him in the arm. “You’re the one who kept bringing up that stupid twelve-step plotter. Before that I just went with the flow. Now I find myself wanting to plot out our wedding plans. Isn’t that stupid?”

“Nah. It’s funny.” He kissed me on the forehead. “Go ahead and plot the wedding. Make your plans. Make them as elaborate or as plain as you like. Doesn’t matter to me, just as long as you include Brooke. She’s dying to be a bridesmaid. Or junior bridesmaid. Or whatever that’s called.” He laughed. “Can you tell I don’t know much about this?”

“I’m not really up on weddings either,” I said. “But don’t worry. My mother’s been planning my wedding since I was three. I have it on good authority that she’s already rented the church and a hall for the reception.”

“Of course she has.”

“And I’m sure a band has been hired. Greek, of course.”

“Of course.”

“And Babbas will want to bring sandwiches. You can count on it.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. What’s a wedding without a Super-Gyro?”

I paused to think about his words. Yes, indeed. What was a wedding without a superhero?

“Frankly, I’m not as concerned about the wedding as I am about the life,” Stephen said. “Hope you’re okay with that.”

“Totally okay with that. I only plan to get married once.”

My words were followed by silence, and I could see the pained look in his eyes. I suddenly realized what I’d said and how it must have affected him.

“Oh, man. I’m sorry, Stephen.”

“No, nothing to apologize for. I never planned for things to go the way they did with Brooke’s mom. When she took off with that guy, it broke my heart. I never pictured myself divorced. Not ever. And you can only imagine what all of that did to Brooke. But now that so much time has passed, I can honestly say that I’m grateful to be where I am now. I’m at a stronger place spiritually, and I’m a much better dad to Brooke.” He grinned. “I think you’re getting a better man.”

“You are a great man, that’s for sure.” I gave him a gentle kiss. “And I pray you’re okay with this completely imperfect woman you’re ending up with. I’m a mess. You do know that, right?”

“You? A mess?”

Would this be a good time to tell him about the cellulite? About the love handles? No, maybe not.

I leaned back against the seat and released a happy sigh. “I still can’t believe we’re going to Greece for our honeymoon.”

“Yep. We’re going back to the land of our ancestors,” he whispered. “Where the people are friendly and the culture is rich in history. Where the water is as blue as the sky and the food is sure to pack on the pounds.”

Ugh. An image of my chubby thighs once again rose to the surface, but I pushed it away. No point in thinking about the negatives when the positives were staring me in the face. Greece! I was going to Greece. I could hardly believe it. All my life I’d dreamed of this.

Stephen took my hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “I keep forgetting to tell you, we’ve been given the run of the estate.”

“I still can’t believe Mama owns it. Crazy.”

“Yes. We can stay as long as we like. And from what I hear, it’s pretty amazing. Your uncle Milo showed me a ton of pictures. There are a couple of cars there too, but he doesn’t have any idea what sort of shape they’re in.”

“Who cares? It’s going to be the best two weeks of our lives.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Me either.” He gave me a tender kiss. Well, tender at first. As the kiss deepened, I gave myself a friendly reminder:
Better slow down. We’re not on our honeymoon yet.

I leaned back and smiled at my husband-to-be. “That was just a sample of things to come,” I said with a wink. “You’ll have to wait for the rest.”

“I’m a very patient man.” He gave me a knowing look, then smiled. “Once we’re married, there won’t be any interruptions.”

“Unless one of us comes up with a brilliant-beyond-brilliant idea for the show or something,” I said. “Then you know what’s going to happen. We’re going to stop everything to write it down.”

“Oh no we’re not. No writing on this trip.”

“Seriously? You really think we can go two whole weeks without writing? Impossible.”

“The only story we’re writing is our own,” he said. “In fact, I’ve already started it. If you’re a good girl, I might let you read what I’ve already written.”

“Wait a minute . . . you’re scripting our honeymoon?” I felt my cheeks grow warm as I thought about that. “Not sure that one will be PG.”

“No, it won’t be PG, but it will make you smile.” He quirked a brow. “Trust me on this. You can read it later. After we’re married.”

“I might just have to do a version of my own,” I said. “We’ll compare and see whose is better.”

“Enough with competition. From now on, we’re on the same team.”

“Oooh,” I said as something occurred to me. “How can we lay down our competitive spirits when we’ve never had our baklava contest?”

“What?”

“Remember? We were going to have a contest to decide who was better at baking baklava.”

Stephen shook his head. “Let me ask you a question.”

“Okay.”

“Does it really matter?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, in the grand scheme of things, does it really matter who’s better at what? Does it matter who comes up with a better idea for a script or who bakes a better baklava?” When I shook my head, he said, “Okay then. Let’s skip the contest. Declare a truce.”

“You’ve got it.”
But my baklava’s still better than yours.

“Thanks.” He gave me a kiss so sweet it almost made me forget my competitive spirit. With this guy on my team, I could go a long, long way.

And I would, as soon as we boarded that plane for Greece.

“Stephen, promise me you won’t tell me where we are on the plotline when we’re honeymooning,” I said. “I don’t think I could take it.”

He laughed. “I promise. We’ll be seat-of-the-pants honeymooners. No plans.” His brow wrinkled. “Oh, well, except one. I had to book one thing in advance. Couldn’t be avoided.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ve been dying to tell you. You’re going to love this.” He gave my hands a squeeze. “We’re going on a deep-sea-fishing cruise when we’re in Greece. Perfect, right?”

“Deep-sea fishing? Why in the world would you sign us up to do something like that?”

He gave me a curious look. “Because you’re into fishing. Isn’t that right?”

“I am?”

“Well, yeah.” He shrugged. “At least, that’s what Kat told me. She said you were looking for a guy who loves to fish. Did I get that wrong?”

Oh no!
A giggle arose. “Well, let’s just say that was a test. That whole ‘must love fishing’ thing, I mean.”

“It was for me too.” As he gazed at me, I noticed a shimmer of tears in his eyes. “It’s been a secret desire of mine since I was a kid. I never had a dad to fish with, and my nona wasn’t interested, so you have no idea how much it means to me that you love to fish. I’ve waited all my life for a woman who wants to get her hands dirty. Bait a hook. Drag in a great catch.” He gave me a little wink and then kissed me on each cheek.

I’d dragged in a great catch, all right. He continued to ramble on about the deep-sea-fishing expedition he’d booked for us, and I felt joy bubbling up from inside.

Should I tell him the truth about my so-called love for fishing, though? Nah. That could wait for another day. One thing was for sure—the Lord certainly had a great sense of humor. I could almost see him rocking back and forth on his throne in heaven, shouting, “Gotcha!”

I chuckled, thinking of that image. Yep. He was definitely a better writer than I’d ever dream of being. And his punch lines were out of this world.

Stephen continued to talk, oblivious to my thoughts. “Just wait till you see the waters in Greece. If they’re half as great as the pictures on the internet, we’re going to have the experience of a lifetime. We’re going to catch all sorts of fish.” He went off on another tangent, talking about the countless varieties of fish he hoped to snag.