17
“And we’re back! It’s 8:32 and we’re live in studio with one of the top contenders in the highly anticipated World Fighting Championship middleweight tournament, which will take place right here in Las Vegas at the MGM Grand over the Fourth of July weekend.” A clip of one of Nick’s more recent fights played on one of the monitors as Amy Garcia spoke. “Mark your calendars and please welcome former Imperial MMA middleweight champ Nick Giannakis.”
Nick held his hands clasped loosely in front of him and smiled at the three hosts of Wake Up, Las Vegas. With the tournament only a little over two weeks away, the promotional activities were ramping up. He spent his days either talking about the tournament or training for it. And his nights? Those he spent with Jules. Cooking together. Watching movies. Laughing and talking about anything and everything. Having mind-blowing, toe-curling sex. Falling asleep with her wrapped around him.
Nick waved to the live studio audience as they applauded, feigning a level of comfort he didn’t feel. He’d never done a live TV interview before, and although he’d gone over all of his talking points with Jules, he couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. “Thanks so much for having me,” he said with a smile once the applause died down, glancing around the sectional sofa on which he and the three hosts sat. Nick’s stomach gave a little tug as anxiety flitted through his system.
“It’s so good to have you on the show.” Amy smiled at him and then addressed the audience with caffeinated energy. “For those of you who’ve been living under a rock, the sport of mixed martial arts is taking the world by storm. That’s thanks in large part to the World Fighting Championship headquartered right here in Las Vegas. The WFC is one of the largest MMA promotions in the country, with a roster of over 150 fighters.”
“Wow! And counting, I’m sure.” Ted Scott sat on Nick’s left, grinning with enthusiasm. “I’m so excited you’re here, Nick. I’m a huge MMA fan and I’ve already got my tickets for the tournament. So let me ask you, since you’re the favorite going in, who do you think your biggest competition is, and how do you plan to come out on top?”
“You know, there’s a lot of talent in the league right now, so I’m taking every fighter seriously. More importantly, a lot of these guys are complete fighters with a whole array of skills. The fact that they’re all so good is making me work as hard as I can in the gym. I’ve been doing pretty much anything and everything that my coaches will let me do to get ready. And you know, regardless of what happens in the octagon, the tournament will be a hell of a show.”
“Rumor has it that Brody Hansen is dealing with a knee injury right now,” said Dan Whitley, who sat next to Amy. “Is that something you hear and think ‘okay, this is like kryptonite’ and factor it into your game plan?”
Nick sat back against the couch and shook his head. “I hadn’t heard that, to be honest. But I’m mainly focused on improving my skills. I want to win because of what I bring to the octagon.”
From her spot next to him on the couch, Amy leaned in. “I couldn’t help but notice your tattoo,” she said, dipping her head as she nodded at his arm. The band around his bicep was just visible below the hem of his dark blue T-shirt. “What’s its significance?”
Nick paused, caught off guard by the personal question. “My parents are from Greece, so it keeps a part of my family, a part of my heritage with me, no matter where I go. Family’s important to me,” he said, and glanced down at the Greek lettering. “This reminds me of who I am, and what I’m fighting for.”
“You grew up in Chicago, right?” asked Ted.
Nick smiled and nodded. Amy’s initial question had thrown him, but he relaxed as the conversation shifted to his family, a subject he was comfortable talking about. “Yeah, and my family’s still there. I miss it sometimes, but I have to say I’m loving the Las Vegas sunshine.”
“Will they come out for the tournament?” asked Dan.
“Yeah, my parents and brother are planning to come. They almost always come to my fights, and it means a lot to me.”
“Okay, two questions,” said Amy. “First, what does your mom think of your fighting career? And second, is your brother as cute as you?”
Nick laughed. “She hated it at first.” He put on a voice, imitating his mom’s Greek accent. “ ‘Why you want to get your face smashed in? God gave you such a nice face, and you want to wreck it. I don’t understand.’ ” The hosts laughed. “But she’s proud of me, although she doesn’t love watching the actual fights. And my brother . . . I don’t know. He doesn’t get his face smashed in for a living, so he’s probably got one up on me there.”
Several female fans in the audience made their disagreement known with a chorus of loud boos.
“All right, so I’ll ask you the question I know all of the women in the audience are wondering. Are you single?”
A loud round of “wooooo’s” erupted from the crowd, and Nick felt blood rush to his cheeks. He laughed to cover his slight embarrassment. He willed himself not to glance over to the side of the stage, where Jules stood. Instead, he turned his smile on Amy. “I’m sorry to disappoint, but no, I’m not single. I have a girlfriend.”
“I think you just broke everyone’s heart,” said Ted with a chuckle. “So let me ask you about when you’re preparing for a match,” he said, bringing the interview back around to the subject of fighting. For the next several minutes, Nick answered questions about the tournament, how he’d gotten started in MMA, his training regimen, his favorite fighters, working with the legendary Craig Darcy, his hair, all interspersed with more clips of some of his fights.
“We have a special treat for our viewers,” said Amy, looking into the camera. “A couple of days ago, Dan and Ted visited Nick at the WFC training facility to get some hands-on experience and find out if they have what it takes to survive in the octagon with Nick Giannakis.”
The clip started playing on the monitor, and Nick had to admit that it was both a great idea and pretty funny. Neither Ted nor Dan had any fighting experience, and their lack of athletic ability played well with the crowd, while emphasizing the athleticism of the sport and making Nick look pretty badass. The clip had taken longer to film than Nick would’ve liked, eating into his training time, but he’d agreed to be the face of the WFC, and he couldn’t let Jules down. And at least this was the last of it. Jules had promised him she’d keep his schedule clear for the next few weeks so he could focus exclusively on his training.
The crowd laughed as the clip showed Nick slamming a shrieking Dan down onto the mats, and then kicking a pad held by Ted so hard that Ted fell over backward. Nick glanced over at Jules, who beamed and shot him a thumbs-up.
The clip ended and the crowd cheered.
“The WFC middleweight tournament happens over the July Fourth weekend at the MGM Grand, and tickets are selling fast. Head on over to wakeuplasvegas.com for more behind-the-scenes footage, including our exclusive interview with Gary Watts, the voice of the WFC. Thanks so much for being here Nick, and best of luck to you in the tournament.” Amy smiled at the camera. “We’ll be back in a few minutes.”
The director signaled that they were no longer live, and Nick rose from the couch, shaking hands with the hosts as a production assistant removed his microphone. He moved over toward where Jules was standing.
She smiled coyly, mischief dancing in her eyes. “You have a girlfriend, huh? That’s too bad.”
“Why? You interested?” Relieved that they were able to joke about their situation, he smiled back.
She shrugged and fished his phone out of her bag, leaning closer as she handed it back to him. “Your girlfriend probably won’t like the naughty selfie I took with your phone.” Smiling, she turned and called back over her shoulder. “Come on, let’s get you to the gym.”
Laughing, he glanced down at his screen to see if she had taken a dirty picture, but frowned when he saw that he had six missed calls from Alex, all over the past few minutes. He dialed his voice mail as he followed Jules out to the parking lot.
“Nick,” came Alex’s voice. Rough. Cracked. Nick’s stomach dropped and he held his phone tighter. “It’s Dad. He had a heart attack. He’s in the ICU. He just . . . fuck, just come home, okay? I don’t . . . shit. Nick, you need to come home.”
For a second, everything stopped. His brain, his heart, his lungs. The world. Panic and a desperate fear melded together, making him numb.
Nick hadn’t realized he’d stopped walking until Jules turned around, squinting at him in the bright morning sunshine. “Nick? You okay?”
As though he were moving through a fog, he somehow managed to shove his phone into his pocket. “My dad had a heart attack.”
Jules let out a soft gasp, the tips of her fingers pressed to her mouth. “Oh God. Is he . . .” She shook her head, her brow furrowed as she studied him, her eyes bright with concern.
“He’s in the ICU. I have to go home.” His voice was hoarse, and he felt like he was forcing the words out. And maybe he was, because he didn’t want them to be true.
Jules nodded rapidly and then pulled him in for a hug, slipping her arms around his shoulders. “Of course you do.” For several moments, neither of them spoke as he took comfort in the simple sweetness of her touch. She stroked a hand up and down his back, and he pressed his face into her neck. He breathed in her scent and felt his heart start to slow down. The fog of panic started to clear, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close.
This. Her. As long as he had her, he could face whatever came his way. He knew that like he knew his own name.
“Come with me,” he said. He pulled back a little and cupped her face. “I need you.”
She didn’t even hesitate when she nodded, and he realized that a part of him had been expecting her to. “Yes. Of course. Whatever you need.”
He was going home to face the fact that he might lose his father, but with Jules, he knew he’d survive it. Somehow.
Almost exactly nine excruciatingly long hours after he’d listened to Alex’s message, Nick stood in front of his father’s hospital room at the University of Chicago Medical Center, worry and fear churning his stomach into knots. He’d touched base with Alex both before and after takeoff, getting updates on his father’s condition. The heart attack had been serious, caused by an almost complete blockage in his coronary artery. The doctors had inserted a stent in order to open the artery and prevent another heart attack. It sounded like he’d be okay, but Nick wouldn’t feel sure of that until he talked to his dad and saw for himself.
The smell of antiseptic permeated the sterile white and blue halls, and nearby nurses spoke to each other in a whispered hush. A series of steady beeps emanated from his father’s room. Inside, he could see his mother and Alex on either side of his father’s bed. His father slept, his breaths deep and steady. His family was shaken, but together.
Jules gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be in the waiting room,” she whispered, squeezing his hand firmly before she moved away. For a second he watched her go, already missing the strength of her at his side, but he knew he had to be strong on his own for his family. He took a deep breath, pulling more of the medicinal air into his lungs, and stepped into the room. At the sound of his footsteps, his mom and brother turned.
“Nico.” His mom’s voice was raspy, her face drawn as she strode quickly toward him.
“Mom.” He pulled her in for a hug, cradling her tiny body and kissing the top of her head. She was just over five feet and didn’t even come to his chin. Small, but mighty. A spitfire, his father had always called her. Her black curls, streaked with white and normally perfectly arranged around her angular face, were pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she wore a sweatshirt and jeans, a far cry from her usual sweater sets and tailored pants. She squeezed him tightly, and for a minute he just held her, taking comfort in her as he knew she was doing with him.
She stepped back and looked up at him, cupping his cheek in an achingly familiar gesture. “You got here so quickly,” she said in Greek. “I’m glad you’re home.”
“Of course I’m here,” Nick answered in Greek. “This is where I belong right now.”
Alex met his eyes and nodded solemnly. “It is.”
“Any change?” Nick asked, and both his mother and Alex shook their heads.
“Nico?” Nick’s heart stuttered at the sound of his dad’s voice, so much weaker and quieter than it normally was. Nick turned and saw that his father’s eyes were open. His thick salt-and-pepper hair was limp, and it physically hurt Nick to see the tubes and wires attached to him.
“I’m here, Dad,” he said, moving toward the bed. His chest tightened as he stepped closer, taking in his dad’s pale skin, the ridiculousness of this big, strong man in a baby blue hospital gown.
“I’m going to take Mom to the cafeteria, see if I can get her to eat something,” said Alex in a low voice.
Nick nodded and perched on the edge of his dad’s bed, taking one of his hands. Large, powerful. Thick fingers. Work-roughened palms. But that strength meant nothing if his heart gave out. Nick swallowed, trying to process seeing the strongest man he knew lying in a hospital bed, his frailty, his mortality on full display in a way that made Nick both uncomfortable and angry. Realistically, he knew he’d lose his parents, and that one day it’d just be him and Alex. But he wasn’t anywhere near ready to face that. His father was only sixty, his mother only fifty-five. He wanted to watch them enjoy retirement, wanted to watch them play with their grandchildren.
Nick swallowed thickly, fighting down the emotion clogging his throat.
“Paidaki mou,” said his dad, clasping Nick’s hand with a reassuringly strong grip. My son. “You didn’t have to come all the way to see me lying in a bed in a dress. I’m okay, Nico.”
Nick just nodded, wrestling with his warring emotions. “Are you in pain?”
His dad shook his head weakly. “No. Just tired.”
“What happened?”
“I was at the restaurant stacking some chairs on the tables, and I had a pressure,” he said, and he shifted in bed, sitting up a little. He pointed to the center of his chest. “Here. Like someone squeezing me. I couldn’t breathe so I sat down. My arm started to tingle and I got dizzy. Your mom called an ambulance.”
“I’m glad she was there with you.”
“Me too, Nico.” He sighed heavily, and his eyes watered. “Heaven’s not ready for me yet. That’s what your mom said. She said to me, ‘I need you more than the angels, Stelios. So don’t you go anywhere. It’s not time.’” A tear slipped down his cheek. “I should’ve gone to the doctor. Now look what I’ve done.”
Nick’s chest constricted and he squeezed his father’s hand again. “Hey, no. It’s okay. No one’s angry at you, Dad. We just want you to get better.”
His father shook his head slowly. “But when you love someone, you have to try, Nico. Every day, you try. To be good to them. To listen to them and respect them. To take care of them. It’s not always easy. But it’s what you do. And I didn’t do that. I was stubborn and stupid.”
Nick wasn’t sure what to say to soothe his father’s guilt, so he changed the subject. “What did the doctors say?”
“I have to stay here for a few days so they can watch me, do tests. I’ll have to take it easy for a couple of weeks. Take pills. No more cigars. Lots of doctor appointments in my future, but they say I’ll be okay.”
Nick felt some of the tension leave his shoulders and he nodded as relief trickled through him. None of that sounded too dire. This wasn’t a death sentence. More of a wake-up call.
Thank God.
“I want to stick around. I want to see you and Alex both get married, have babies. Want to see you win more belts. Want to take everyone on a big trip to Greece. Drink wine in Santorini with your mother while the sun sets. Chase grandchildren down the beach in Mykonos. I can’t do any of that if I’m with the angels.”
Nick gulped down a shuddering breath, his dad’s vision for the future of their family twisting something deep inside him. Something sweet and tender, and he found himself blinking back tears, unable to speak.
“Speaking of angels,” his dad said, and nodded toward the door. Nick turned and saw Jules standing outside the doorway, checking on him but not intruding. She shot him a smile and moved away again, giving him time with his dad.
Nick couldn’t help the smile spreading across his face. “That’s Jules. My girlfriend.”
His father’s eyebrows rose as he smiled. “Girlfriend? Yeah? She’s beautiful.”
Nick’s smile grew, and he glanced back toward the door again. “She is, Dad. And she’s smart, and funny, and really sweet. She’s . . .” He trailed off, the lump reappearing in his throat.
His father’s eyebrows rose and then he nodded knowingly. He relaxed back into the pillows, smiling sagely. “Good. At least that’s settled.”
“What are you talking about?”
His father let out a low chuckle. “You should see your face right now. You’re going to marry her. I know, because that’s the look I had on my face when I first fell in love with your mother. Now we just have to find someone for Alex. You know, my friend Costa . . .”
As Nick listened to his father, he found himself picturing Jules in a gorgeous white dress, walking down an aisle strewn with rose petals. A diamond on her finger and a smile on her face.
Yes. The vision didn’t scare him. No, it felt like home. Like a truth. Like a prize.
After a few more minutes, his father started to get tired and he fell back asleep just as Alex and his mom returned. As his father slept, Nick spent some time catching up with his family. In soft voices, they discussed the upcoming recovery, the restaurant, Nick’s training, Alex’s job. After a while, Alex gave them both a hug and then headed out to go check on things at the restaurant, and his mom settled into a chair.
“Why don’t you go home, Nico? Eat, shower, rest. Get settled in.” She paused. “Alex mentioned you brought your girlfriend.”
Nick nodded. “Yeah, Jules.”
She frowned, but then nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you at home later.”
Nick couldn’t help but wonder what Alex had said to their mom, but now wasn’t the time to dig into all of that.
He found Jules in the waiting room and pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you.”
She slipped her arms around him, holding him tight. “I didn’t do anything. How is he?”
“He’ll be okay. They’ll keep him for a few days, and then he can go home.” He took a long, deep breath. “He’ll be okay,” he repeated, savoring the words and the relief that came with them. “Let’s go home. It’s been a long day.” She nodded and followed him back to the parking garage and the car they’d rented.
It took nearly half an hour to navigate through the last of the rush-hour traffic from the medical center to the house in Oak Park he’d grown up in. As he pulled into the driveway, he realized he hadn’t brought a girl home since high school. Never as an adult. Jules was the first. That felt . . . really right. Even if the circumstances were far from ideal.
As he cut the ignition he studied the house, trying to see it through Jules’ eyes. The white and beige exterior, the screened-in front porch. The little garden in front, the shrubs lining the driveway. The four-bedroom house was about a hundred years old, but his parents had taken meticulous care of it, updating and renovating over the years.
“This is where you grew up?” she asked in the quiet of the car.
“Yep. I was a baby and my mom was pregnant with Alex when they bought this house.” He pushed open the door and then grabbed their bags from the trunk before leading her inside. They made their way through the living room with its worn hardwood floors and grated fireplace, the kitchen with the new appliances and same old Oriental rug under the table and chairs, and up the creaky oak staircase.
The stairway’s wall was crammed with framed family photographs, everyone from his parents’ grandparents to more recent photos of Nick and Alex. Nick found himself searching out the ones of his dad. His parents’ wedding photo. His dad smiling proudly as he stood by the front door of their restaurant, Demeter’s, a preschool-aged Nick and Alex hanging on to his legs. A more recent one of his parents together in front of a Christmas tree. His father as a young boy in Greece, smiling as he held up a fish he’d caught. Something burned in Nick’s chest as he imagined only having photographs and memories left.
Jules had paused on the stairs too, her hand still in his, studying the photos silently with a small, wistful smile on her face.
She pointed at Nick’s first-grade photo. “Cute kid.” He’d had a mop of dark hair and was wearing a Ninja Turtles T-shirt. His two front teeth were missing.
“Donatello always was my favorite.” A weight settled over his chest as he remembered the way his dad had called them the “young karate turtles.”
“Mmm. I was more of a Michelangelo girl myself.”
Nick smiled halfheartedly, appreciating her effort but not in the mood to joke. He sighed heavily and led her the rest of the way upstairs and down the hallway to the last door on the left. He pushed it open, finding the room unchanged from the last time he’d been home. Blue walls, a double bed in the center. This had always been his room, but he’d taken all of his stuff with him long ago. Now it served as a guest room, furnished only with the bed, nightstands, and a small chest.
They dropped their bags by the door and Nick sat down on the bed, a bone-deep weariness overtaking him. With his elbows on his knees, he dropped his head into his hands. The mattress dipped as Jules sat beside him and rubbed a soothing circle on his back. “I’m sorry, Nick. I can’t even imagine what you must be feeling right now.”
He took a deep breath, focusing on the feel of her hand on his back. “He’s always been there for me,” he said, his voice hoarse. “No matter what. Teaching me how to ride a bike. Helping me with homework. Showing me how to be a man in all the best ways. How to work hard, and love big, and enjoy life.” He glanced up at her. “He came to my very first fight, in this little arena here in Chicago. I could hear him screaming, cheering me on. He always supported my fighting career. Wanted me to chase my dreams.”
Sadness clouded Jules’s eyes, and she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him in a sideways hug. “He’s going to be okay, Nick.”
“But what if he’s not?” His voice broke on the last word, and he cleared his throat. “He’s my role model, and I still need him.” He sucked in a shuddering breath. “I can’t lose him. There’s still so much to come. He needs to be here for it all. I need him here.”
Jules hugged him tighter. “The doctors said he’ll recover from this. He’ll be okay, Nick. You’re not going to lose him.” She kissed his forehead, her lips warm and soft against his skin. For several moments, neither of them spoke. He just let Jules hold him, absorbing the comfort of her touch.
He raised his head, his eyes meeting hers. “It means so much to me that you’re here, baby.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his thumb linger on her cheekbone. “You mean so much to me.” Wanting to feel something besides the worry and fear, he tipped his head forward, claiming her mouth in a slow, deep kiss. “I need you,” he whispered against her lips, and she moaned softly.
She skated the tips of her fingers up under his T-shirt, tracing his abs. “I’m yours, Nick.”
Her words ignited something in him, and he pulled his shirt off. Falling back onto the bed, he pulled her down with him. She straddled his hips, smoothing her hands up his chest, her palms rasping over his nipples. Holding his eyes, she pulled her blouse off over her head, tossing it to the floor. Her blond hair fanned out around her shoulders, and in that moment she looked so beautiful, so impossibly gorgeous, that Nick could’ve sworn his heart stopped.
His Jules.
With everything his father had said earlier—about marriage, and babies, and Jules—rushing through his mind, he pulled her down against him. “Come here,” he growled, bringing her mouth to his. Her tongue slid against his and he closed his eyes, basking in and savoring the comfort of her touch. The sweetness of her mouth.
He stroked his other hand up her back, popping the clasp of her bra open. He pushed it down her shoulders and her breasts spilled free, soft and warm against his chest. Her heart aligned with his, and it was as though he could feel his fear giving way to hope. He didn’t know how she did that just by being here with him, by touching him and loving him, but she did.
Her hands began working on the fly of his jeans, and he kissed her deeper, exploring her mouth with slow sweeps of his tongue. No urgency, not like there often was with them. This was peace. This was comfort.
This was love. He’d fought so hard against it, not wanting to admit it, but he loved her. Loved every single damn thing about her, even the broken parts. Maybe even especially the broken parts, because they needed the most healing. The most care.
Would she run if he told her? He wanted so badly to believe that she wouldn’t. That things had changed between them.
But he kept his mouth shut.
She lifted her hips off of him enough to slide his pants and boxers off, then stripped her own pants and underwear off before climbing back on top of him. His hands went to her ass and she rocked against him as she fell forward, her hair a blond curtain as she smiled down at him.
“I’ve got you,” she said, and then kissed a trail down his neck and across his collarbone.
Desire flowed over him and he held her tighter, pulling her back for another kiss.
He slid a hand lower and easily slid two fingers into her. He groaned at how ready she was, and she let out a little shudder, nipping at his lips as they kissed. She wove her fingers into his hair, and each slide of her tongue against his came quicker, the energy of their connection spreading between them.
He slipped his fingers out of her and fisted his cock. She lifted her hips and then sank down onto him, taking him deep.
“Fuck,” he gasped, his grip firm on her hips. “You feel so goddamn good.”
She kissed him, slow and sweet as she rocked her hips. “So do you, Nick. So perfect.”
He let out a soft laugh. “Because we’re perfect, sweetheart.”
She stilled and met his eyes, tracing the tips of her fingers over his mouth. “You make me believe that.”
In that moment he wanted to tell her he loved her, but he couldn’t seem to connect his brain with his mouth.
With his palms spanning her back, he pulled her tight against him, flexing his hips and pumping up into her. She met him stroke for stroke, thrust for thrust, until a fine sheen of sweat coated his skin. His orgasm barreled down on him, fast and intense. She moaned above him, riding him hard now, clenching around him.
“God, Nick!” She ground the words out, and he felt her pussy flutter, pushing him over the edge. With a grunt, he pushed up into her as far as he could and came.
She collapsed against his chest, breathing hard. He could feel her heart pounding against him, and he stroked a hand over her head, smoothing her hair. And as he held her, still inside her, he knew that somehow everything was going to be all right.