I let him go and dashed the heels of my hands across my eyes and cheeks. “Sorry.”
“Oh, babe…”
Mr. Matheson handed me a napkin and cleared his throat. “With a name like Bascopolis, I assume you’re Greek?”
“Yes. The name was originally spelled differently, but when my great-grandparents came over,it was changed on Ellis Island.” I’d asked Poppa why Grandpa had never tried to have it changed back, but he’d just muttered something about Uncle Lykaios, the black sheep of the family. I’d been impressed when I’d learned he’d been a hit man for some minor gangster in the thirties, but Poppa had said, “He brought shame and disgrace on the name. It is better people do not know he is our blood.”
He probably felt that way about me too. I was always afraid to ask my sister if he’d blotted out my name from the family Bible.
“So you met and…er…started dating. What does your father have to say about this situation, Theo?”
“About Wills moving in with me? Nothing. It’s none of his business.”