10 ) Marriage Contract Papers Are Waiting For You

The haydari and roasted eggplant yogurt on my face was beginning to dry and tighten against my skin under the breeze, but since it had successfully reduced the burning sensation by exactly seventy-three point four percent, I was thoroughly satisfied with the status quo. I picked up the ultra-secure, encrypted satellite phone Matteo had given me. As I pressed the touch-screen buttons, a few yogurt droplets from my fingertips left tiny, white smudges across the screen.

Matteo sipped his drink, resting his temple against one hand, studying me as if he were watching the most bizarre arthouse cinema film of his life.

I dialed my aunt's number from memory and hit the green call button. The phone rang a mere one and a half times before connecting. The familiar, chaotic wave sounds in the background along with my uncle's distant shout of "The best watermelons are the ones with a yellow belly, woman!" traveled all the way to the shores of Gümüşlük.

"Hello? Who's this, then? A foreign number is calling, look, a foreign number!" my aunt yelled, literally screaming into the receiver. Her vocal cords were operating at a minimum of ninety decibels, as usual.

"Auntie, it's me. Nova!" I said, keeping my voice as level as possible.

"Oh, Nova! Girl, where on earth are you? I made a bet with your uncle; I told him she definitely got stuck in the line for melon ice cream, that's why she's late. When are you coming back? Those ice creams are going to melt, carry them properly!"

I adjusted my glasses on the bridge of my nose. I had drifted across the open sea on a pink donut, gotten caught in a mafia crossfire in international waters, and was currently sitting in Bodrum with a face slathered in haydari opposite an underworld boss—yet my family assumed I was merely stuck in an ice cream queue. A truly flawless disappearance algorithm.

"Auntie, I need to provide a situational assessment. I am no longer in Crete. Geographically, I am within the borders of another country. I am on the coast of  Bodrum."

A silence lasting less than a second blanketed the line before my aunt burst into a raucous laugh. "Oh, Nova! Honestly, these jokes of yours are going to be the death of me. What Bodrum, girl? Just grab the ice cream and get back here, your uncle already sliced the watermelon, he’s sniping seeds into the sea. We’ve got chicken on the grill too..."

Matteo must have overheard my aunt's booming voice bleeding through the phone, because the corner of his lips curved into an amused smirk. He set his glass down, leaned across the table, and whispered from a dangerously close distance to my garlic-scented face:

"Tell her we stored your ice cream in my yacht's deep freezer so it wouldn't melt. Wifey."

I made a hand gesture signaling him to shut up, but seeing the yogurt residue on my fingers, Matteo instantly recoiled. I pressed the phone closer to my ear.

"Auntie, I am not joking. Even though it seems mathematically impossible, the surface currents of the Aegean Sea dragged me into the open sea along with my pink strawberry donut. Since my swimming metrics are at zero, I waited to be rescued. Currently, I am sitting next to a man named Matteo who likely operates in illegal sectors!"

This time, my uncle's voice chimed in from the receiver—my aunt had evidently put me on speakerphone. "Come on, woman, the girl has been talking to that crazy  friend of hers on the internet again, she’s obsessed with fiction! Nova, sweetheart, are you getting the ice cream inside a scooped-out melon or a regular cone? Just tell us that!"

"In a scooped-out melon," I sighed, defeated. "But that is entirely beside the point. I am safe. It’s just that my passport is back at your place. I will likely have to play the role of a fake wife to this Italian for a while because he declared me his spouse to bypass border security."

Matteo could no longer restrain himself; he let out a deep, resounding laugh. His voice was so commanding and charismatic that it vibrated clearly through the phone line.

My aunt's tone grew suddenly sharp. "Uh... who is that voice in the background? That's a man's voice? Nova, girl, are you telling the truth? Did you kidnap the ice cream man or what?!"

"Not the ice cream man, Auntie. Matteo,my hubby. Oh! Fake one..." I said, gesturing toward the man currently reaching for his whiskey glass. "Anyway, I merely wanted to report that I am biologically alive. I have to disconnect now; the drying phase of the haydari on my face is complete, and it's starting to crack. Take care of yourselves, and keep an eye on the twins' backsides."

As I ended the call and placed the phone on the table, Matteo was staring at me with an expression of pure disbelief.

"They didn't even notice you were gone." he said, his voice laced with a mixture of exhaustion and dark amusement. "They think you went out for melon ice cream."

 "But at least they now know I am alive.  Are we prepared for the technical reporting, Matteo?"

The mocking glint in Matteo’s eyes instantly deepened into a dangerous shade of obsidian. He leaned back in his chair, raising his glass slightly toward me as he whispered.

"I don't know if you're ready, genius girl... but the shower in my room is waiting for you to wash off that garlic defense shield."

"I want to go back U.S.A !" I said. "When will you be done, Matteo? How long do I have to wait to go back to Crete until you're finished?"

“What do you mean, ‘end’?” Matteo said cruelly. “I'm just getting started.”

“Then, when it's over, come pick me up here.” I told him.

“I have so much to do with you from now on. I won't take my eyes off you for even a second.” he said.

"What ?"

“The marriage contract papers are waiting for you on the yacht. I saved your life, didn't I? So now you'll do me a small favor and marry me.”

"SMALL ? SMALL ,WHAT!"

“You can start by wrapping your arms around me and calling me your husband.”

He smiled!

Before answering him, I scrunched up my face as if I’d swallowed all the salt in the sea.