EMMELINE
Hearing Amari say those words made me nervous. I was already afraid of his mother and wondering whether she would like me or not, and he is not helping at all. Putting his hand on the small of my back, he led me towards the people gathered in a small group, chatting the day away.
“O gios mou eínai edó,” the older man who I assumed was his father as Amari was the exact copy of him, extended his arms to hug him.
“English, Dad,” Amari mentioned, returning his hug.
“Of course, where are my manners? Sorry, young lady. All I said was that my son was here,” he replied, taking my hand before kissing my knuckles. “My name is Yiorgos, or you can call me George if you prefer to call me by the English term. Nice to meet you, um…”
“Emmeline. Nice to meet you, sir. I mean, George.”
I cou
