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I fight the urge to roll my eyes at his theatrics. It wasn’t that funny. “Depending on how rough the play is, he might be sore for a few days, yeah.”
Tini leans toward me, whispering in my ear. “He was really nervous about you two sleeping on the couch, wasn’t he?”
Even see she can see through his act.
“Yep. He was pretty sure YiaYia was loading the shotgun to kill him.”
She aims a curious stare at the scene on the floor where Mama is fawning over Rob as YiaYia doles out ibuprofen and sips of water. “He’s like some kind of magical unicorn. He sings, dances, drives all night to see you for Christmas, and is practically a prude instead of trying to sneak up to your room to bang all night.”
“Yes, and now you’ve just shown the rest of the world my magical unicorn. Thanks for that.”
Tini rolls her eyes. “If anyone can handle a stiff competition, it’s you. But there really isn’t one. Guys don’t do all that stuff just to get into a girl’s panties.”
That truth stings a little.
Rob eventually pulls himself off the floor with Mama and YiaYia’s help.
“Breakfast is ready!” Papou announces.
YiaYia busies herself with dishing out the food as Mama sets the table.
Papou approaches Rob, throwing an arm around his much larger shoulders. “I suppose I should thank you, young Robert. You are quite skilled at romancing my granddaughter. It has forced me to reevaluate my own marriage and to take steps to renew our often-overlooked love.”
Rob grins at me. “Best Christmas ever.”
“However,” Papou tightens his hold on Rob. “Do not get any ideas. The blanket I covered you with this morning can just as easily be made into a noose should you mistreat my Eva.”
I can’t help but laugh as Rob visibly gulps, that panicked expression from earlier returning to his face.
“Let’s eat!” Papou offers one last warning squeeze before departing for the table.
“Maybe I should bail,” Rob whispers as he approaches me. “He knows too much, and I want to live to see another Christmas with you.”
I wrap my arm around his waist, enjoying the heat and feel of his solid body against my own. “What? And miss the best Christmas ever?”
Rob glances at the table where everyone is eating and talking merrily over a much less stressful topic—snow removal. When he’s satisfied no one is paying us any attention, he sneaks a quick kiss to my lips that tastes like the adoration his mother spoke so highly of last night. “You haven’t even gotten your present yet. How do you know this is the best Christmas ever?”
“Because you’re here.”
“You don’t have to stroke my ego, baby. I’m not going anywhere. I already think you’re worth dying for.”
That’s sweet if not a little morbid. And more importantly, it’s so typically my boyfriend. “Merry Christmas, Rob.”
Another quick kiss. “Merry Christmas, my Evie.”
