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You and I both know it. My mother gives new meaning to the word control freak.”
    He nodded. “That’s true. She would have been, but I also bet I’d have gained forty pounds with her cooking.”
    “See. Me not telling them was a good thing.”
    “Uh-huh. You keep telling yourself that, Thano.”

    The moment I opened the door to my parents’ house, my mother called out my name, “Athanasios! It’s about time!”
    With a slight smile, I made my way through the house and into the kitchen. My mother was jabbering away in Greek as she moved about. Her black hair was pulled up into a bun and she wore just a touch of makeup. My mother was beautiful. Beyond beautiful. She was only fifty-five-years-old and didn’t look a day over thirty.
    “Mmm, smells good, Mama.”
    “Of course it does. No one cooks moussaka like I do.”
    With a chuckle, I agreed. “No one does, Mama.”
    The smell of the ground lamb and garlic cooking made my mouth water. Damn, I loved my mother’s cooking.
    “How has your week been?” she asked as she laid the eggplant in the baking dish. It was a very rare occasion for her to be alone in the kitchen.
    With a shrug, I replied, “It’s been uneventful.”
    She turned to look at me and raised her eyebrow. “Is that so?”
    I knew that look. It was the look that told me I better rethink my answer.
    “Um . . . yep. Why do you ask?”
    She turned back to what she was doing and pursed her lips. “Rosemary, Aunt Marie’s friend, saw you talking to a girl on the street near your apartment.”
    “Rosemary? Why was she in Manitou Springs?”
    “Ah, so you do not deny you were with a girl?”
    I popped an olive into my mouth and sat at the island while I watched her. “I wasn’t with any girl, Mama. I was talking to a girl.”
    She huffed. “What’s the difference?”
    “There’s a huge difference.”
    “Is she a friend?”
    I thought for a moment. Was Kilyn a friend? We hadn’t exchanged phone numbers and I just found out what her last name was.
    “No. Gus and I met her at a cooking class and she—”
    Taking a step back, my mother clutched her chest. “A cooking class! What is this? You take a cooking class from this girl? What can this girl cook better than your Mitera?”
    Oh hell.
    “No, Mama. I don’t know how she cooks to be honest with you.”
    Her eyes widened in shock. “You date a girl and you don’t know how she cooks? Does she cook a good pastitsio? What about a spanakopita or baklava?”
    I closed my eyes and prayed I’d get through this meal. “Mama, I’m not dating anyone and I highly doubt Kilyn knows how to cook any of that.”
    Her face turned white and, right on cue, my father and Thaddeus walked in.
    “Katerina, are you okay?” my father asked my mother, rushing to her side.
    She held up her hand and gave me a look that should have turned me into dust.
    “And why can she not cook those meals, Athanasios?”
    Thaddeus tossed an olive up and caught it in his mouth as he leaned back and looked at me. Gus had already filled him and Nicholaus in on the hot girl in cooking class I met at the bar the night before.
    “Yeah, Thano, why?”
    I shot him a dirty look before turning back to my mother. “She’s Irish, Mama. I seriously doubt she knows how to make a baklava.”
    Stepping back, my mother cursed in Greek while my father shook his head. “Not again,” he mumbled. “Katerina, the world is not filled with Greek women.”
    Closing her eyes, my mother cried out, “Why do you try to break my heart, Athanasios?”
    I stood and rolled my eyes. “I’m not breaking your heart, Mama, because I’m not dating Kilyn. I barely know her. What Rosemary saw was me out running and I happened to see Kilyn running. I was being polite in saying hi. She helped Gus and me out in class.”
    She let out the breath she had been holding in. “This does not explain your betrayal of going to a cooking class!”
    Thaddeus busted out laughing but quickly stopped when my father