Love on the Dotted Line

Chapter 15: Bro-Dad's Bombshell and Papa's Puzzle

"Dion, we need to arrange your wedding next week. So tomorrow, you're going shopping with that girl to buy her a wedding gown. And you should get yourself a suit too. We need to do this faster than a cheetah on roller skates," Antonios says, his words tumbling out like a waterfall of urgency.

Antonios, a stern-faced man with worry lines etched deep, wants to get Dion hitched before someone takes another swing at poisoning Kostas. In his mind, Katerina's the prime suspect, lurking like a cartoon villain behind the curtains.

"Next week? Are you mad, Bro-Dad? You're not even letting me breathe!" Dion exclaims, looking like he's just been told to climb Mount Everest in flip-flops.

"Breathe? You can breathe after we all get our parts," Antonios fires back, his voice as firm as a principal's on detention day.

"But Bro...," Dion starts, his protest as weak as a kitten's meow.

"Listen, Dion," Antonios cuts in, his words sharp enough to slice through steel. "Me and my siblings bore so much because of you. What our father did was more shameful than wearing socks with sandals to a black-tie event. He slept with a stripper! Do you know how humiliating that is for us? Do you know how mortifying it was to learn he had a child with a stripper? And you're even younger than our children! Can you imagine the shame, Dion? We bore all that humiliation and adopted you. Don't forget that. You owe us. Now it's time to pay up!"

Antonios' words hang in the air like a bad smell, the first time he's ever spilled his true feelings about Dion. It's as if he's ripped off a Band-Aid that's been stuck on for years, exposing a festering wound beneath.

Dion stands there, speechless and shocked, like he's just been slapped with a wet fish. He can't believe his own ears. Is this actually his Bro-dad talking? Dion's blue eyes start to shimmer with tears, like a sad puppy in the rain. His chest feels tighter than skinny jeans after Thanksgiving dinner, and his legs wobble like Jell-O in an earthquake. The weight of Antonios' words crushes down on him harder than a piano falling from the sky.

'Is Mummy-sis thinking the same about me?' Dion wonders, his thoughts swirling like a tornado in his mind.

"Don't fuck this up, Dion," Antonios barks, jabbing his finger at Dion like he's pushing an elevator button, then storms out of the room like a hurricane in a suit.

Dion feels like his whole world just shattered into a million pieces, each shard reflecting his newfound insecurities. He wonders if his dad also sees him as a walking, talking embarrassment, like a pimple on prom night.

—--------

"Oh, my little surprise! Did you come to see your old father? Come here, my little chihuahua. Come here," Kostas coos, spotting Dion hovering at his bedroom door like a lost puppy. Kostas, with a twinkle in his eye, beckons Dion over.

Dion inches closer to Kostas and plops down on the bed, looking about as cheerful as a wet sock.

"Hey, why the long face, my little cupcake? Did someone rain on your parade? Did your old fart siblings give you grief?" Kostas asks, eyeing Dion's gloomy expression. It's as rare as a unicorn sighting to see Dion sad. The kid's been wrapped in luxury his whole life, like a burrito in a golden tortilla. He's about as familiar with sadness as a fish is with bicycle riding.

But somehow, Kostas realizes his youngest son is sporting a brand of sadness he's never seen before.

"Am I a shame to you?" Dion blurts out, his words hitting Kostas like a bucket of ice water. Kostas' cheerful demeanor vanishes faster than cookies at a kids' party.

Kostas' face turns serious, like he's just been told the world's about to end. "Why are you asking that? Did someone say something?" he asks, his tone so grave it could sink a ship. He sounds about as un-Kostas-like as a penguin in a tutu.

Dion looks at Kostas, his eyes searching for answers like a detective on a crime scene. "I'm just asking because my mother is a stripper," he mumbles, the words falling from his lips like lead balloons.

"So? I slept with a stripper. And why would I be ashamed of you? You're my little surprise," Kostas says, reaching out to touch Dion's face like he's checking if he's real. "Besides, your mom's a real hottie. I lost control faster than a shopaholic at a sale," he adds with a wink, trying to lighten the mood.

Dion smirks and looks down, his smile as small as a mouse's whisker.

"Who upset you, Dion? Was it Antonios?" Kostas asks, his guess hitting the bullseye like a master archer. Dion's eyes widen, wondering if Kostas has suddenly developed mind-reading powers.

"No, Dad. No one said anything. I just wondered," Dion fibs, his lie as transparent as a glass of water.

"After you turn 23? That's like suddenly worrying about quicksand as an adult," Kostas prods, knowing Dion never fretted about this stuff before. It's as out of character as a cat barking.

"You know I'm getting married, so..." Dion trails off, trying to cook up a believable reason like a chef with only ketchup and crackers in the pantry.

"Does she know that?" Kostas asks, his eyebrow arching like a curious cat's tail.

"I told her. It's not exactly Area 51 level secrecy. Why should I hide it?" Dion shrugs, his honesty as refreshing as a cool breeze on a hot day.

"Yes, it's nothing to lose sleep over. She's not even in your life," Kostas nods, waving his hand like he's shooing away a pesky fly.

"What's her name?" Dion asks, and suddenly Kostas' lips lock tighter than a safe in Fort Knox.

"Mmmm... her name is... mmm..." Kostas starts to think, his brain chugging along like an old steam engine.

"You can't remember her name?" Dion smirks, his amusement dancing in his eyes like fireflies.

"I'm sorry, son," Kostas apologizes, his words dripping with sincerity like honey from a comb. "Maybe my lawyer can tell you her name,"

"That's fine, Dad. I was just curious," Dion says, squeezing Kostas' hand softly, like he's handling a delicate flower.

"Okay then. Give this old man a hug, my little kitten," Kostas coos, treating Dion like he's still small enough to ride a tricycle. Dion wraps his arms around Kostas, their hug warm and comforting like a favorite blanket.

Dion feels better after talking with Kostas, the weight on his shoulders a little lighter. He can tell that Kostas loves him more than a kid loves ice cream. But his heart can't shake off Antonios' words, each syllable still stinging like a paper cut soaked in lemon juice. Dion had always been closer to Antonios and Rita, right after Kostas in his heart. Antonios' words felt like a dagger to his chest, twisting with each replay in his mind.