Page 57 of Beautifully Broken

The Family Vacation

The airplane seat feels cramped even in first class, but I can't complain when I'm sandwiched between Daddy and Uncle Tony while Nonno sits across the aisle, occasionally glancing over with that knowing smile of his.

The Santini men have a way of making even the most mundane moments feel like an adventure.

Though, this is actually an adventure, I suppose.

"Sasha, sweetheart, you're hogging the armrest again," Daddy murmurs in my ear, his voice carrying that gentle teasing tone that makes my stomach flutter.

At forty-seven, he's got this distinguished silver threading through his dark brown hair that makes him look like a movie star from the golden age of Hollywood.

"Maybe if your brother wasn't built like a linebacker, there'd be more room," I shoot back, elbowing Uncle Tony playfully.

He and Daddy are fraternal twins, so while Daddy is lean and darker, Uncle Tony is the opposite – broader, more muscular, with calloused hands that speak of dedication in the gym before he joined the family business.

Daddy has blue eyes, while Uncle Tony’s are deep green, and Uncle Tony has blond curls he keeps in a neat ponytail most of the time, like a retired rock god.

"Hey now, tesoro," Uncle Tony grumbles, but I can hear the affection in his gravelly voice. "Some of us actually care about our appearance."

"Says the man who hasn’t seen a hairbrush in years," I retort, settling back against Daddy's shoulder. The familiar scent of his cologne, something smoky and expensive that Nonno picked out for him, makes me feel safe and content.

Nonno chuckles from across the aisle, not looking up from his book. "Children, please. We're in public. "

"Don't start with us, old man," Uncle Tony calls over, grinning. "You're the one who insisted on bringing half the library with you."

"Knowledge is never excess baggage, Anthony," Nonno replies smoothly, finally glancing up.

At sixty-six, he's still devastatingly handsome, with silver hair and these piercing green eyes that seem to see right through you.

"Besides, someone needs to maintain some semblance of sophistication in this family. "

"Sophistication?" I laugh, reaching across the aisle to squeeze his hand. "This coming from the man who tried to sneak a flask past security?"

"Attempted," he corrects with mock dignity. "And it was vintage whiskey, not some cheap swill."

Daddy shakes his head, pressing a kiss to my temple. "We're never going to live that down, are we, Dad?"

"Probably not," Nonno admits, squeezing my fingers before releasing them. "Though I maintain that airport security has no appreciation for fine spirits."

The flight attendant approaches with another round of drinks, and I notice the way she lingers, her eyes appreciating the Santini Daddy pool.

I can't blame her; between the three of them, they're quite the sight.

Daddy with his gentle elegance, Uncle Tony with his rugged charm, and Nonno with his distinguished authority.

They're all mine, and sometimes I still can't believe how lucky I am.

Especially considering until I was sixteen, they were legally my stepfamily.

"Ma'am, would you like another wine?" the attendant asks, her professional smile not quite hiding her curiosity about our seating arrangement.

"Please," I say warmly, ignoring the questions in her eyes. Let her wonder. After so many years with these men, I've learned to let the outside world think what it wants.

"So, Sasha," Daddy says as the attendant moves on, "are you excited about finally seeing Santorini?"

"Ecstatic," I reply, and I mean it. "Though I still can't believe you three planned this whole trip without telling me where we were going." Even when we had our honeymoon, I was in on every aspect of the planning.

"Some things are worth the surprise," Nonno says, eyes twinkling. "Besides, you work too hard. Someone needed to ensure you actually took a proper vacation. "

"I take vacations," I protest weakly.

"Working remotely from a different city doesn't count as a vacation, sweetheart," Daddy points out, running his fingers through my hair. "When was the last time you went somewhere without your laptop?"

I open my mouth to argue, then close it. He has a point.

"Exactly," Uncle Tony says, settling back in his seat. "This time, we're confiscating all work devices. Doctor's orders."

"You're not a doctor," I remind him.

"Doctor of keeping Sasha Santini happy," he says with a wink. "It's a very specialized field."

Nonno snorts. "If that were a real degree, you'd have failed the entrance exam."

"Ouch, Dad," Uncle Tony clutches his chest dramatically. "That hurt."

"The truth often does," Nonno replies dryly, turning a page in his book.

I lean back, letting their familiar banter wash over me. This is what I love most about being with them, the easy comfort. Daddy's hand finds mine, intertwining our fingers, while Uncle Tony's arm drapes casually over the back of my seat.

"Six hours to Athens, then the connecting flight to Santorini," Daddy murmurs. "Think you can handle being stuck with us that long?"

"I think I'll manage," I say, tilting my head to look at him. "Though I make no promises about behaving myself."

"God, I hope not," Uncle Tony mutters, making me laugh.

The rest of the flight passes in comfortable conversation and shared looks.

Daddy reads over my shoulder as I flip through a travel magazine, pointing out restaurants he wants to try.

Uncle Tony dozes fitfully, his head eventually finding its way to my other shoulder.

Nonno occasionally shares interesting passages from his book about Byzantine architecture that's probably fascinating to someone who isn't fighting airplane drowsiness.

By the time we land in Athens, I'm buzzing with excitement. The layover is short, just enough time to grab coffee and stretch our legs before boarding the smaller plane to Santorini.

"I can't believe we're actually here," I say as we settle into our seats on the island-hopper flight. The plane is tiny compared to the international flight, and I find myself pressed even closer to Daddy while Uncle Tony and Nonno sit across the narrow aisle.

"Believe it, beautiful," Daddy says, kissing my cheek. "Two weeks of nothing but sun, wine, and each other."

"Don't forget the archaeological sites," Nonno adds. "The island has a fascinating history."

"Of course it does," Uncle Tony groans. "Leave it to Dad to turn a romantic getaway into a history lesson."

"Romance and education aren't mutually exclusive," Nonno comments. "In fact, I'd argue they complement each other beautifully."

"He's got a point," I say, earning a grateful smile from Nonno. "Besides, I love learning new things. Especially when I have such knowledgeable teachers."

The plane begins its descent, and I press my face to the window, eager for my first glimpse of Santorini. The view takes my breath away – white buildings cascading down cliff faces, blue-domed churches, and the most incredible azure water I've ever seen.

"It's beautiful," I whisper, and Daddy leans over to look out the window with me.

"Not as beautiful as you," he says softly, making me blush.

"Smooth talker," I accuse, but I'm smiling.

"He's been working on that line for weeks," Uncle Tony calls from across the aisle. "Practiced it in the mirror and everything."

"I did not—" Daddy starts, but Nonno interrupts.

"Actually, you did. I walked in on you rehearsing it Tuesday morning."

"I hate you all," Daddy mutters, but he's grinning.

Leave it to his brother and father to make him act like he’s a teenager again.

It’s cute, and their teasing means endless entertainment for me.

The plane touches down with barely a bump, and I practically bounce in my seat as we taxi to the small terminal. The Mediterranean sun streams through the windows, warming my skin already.

"Alright, beautiful," Uncle Tony says as we prepare to disembark, "ready for the vacation of a lifetime?"

"More than ready," I reply, standing to retrieve my carry-on. "Though, knowing you three, this is going to be anything but relaxing. "

"Relaxation is overrated," Nonno says with a mysterious smile. "Adventure builds character."

“So does sex,” Daddy adds.

We make our way off the plane and through the small airport, our mood light and playful. The warm Greek air hits us as we exit the terminal, and I take a deep breath, feeling the stress of the past few months already beginning to melt away.

"Car rental is this way," Daddy says, consulting his phone. "Then we can head to the villa."

"Villa?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "What villa?"

"The one we rented for two weeks," Nonno says casually. "Cliffside view, private pool, completely secluded."

"You three are insane," I say, but I'm laughing. "How much did this cost?"

"Don't worry about it," Uncle Tony says firmly. "This is our treat. All you have to do is enjoy yourself."

"I can pay my own way," I protest automatically. I work hard as a defense lawyer at the family firm, and I have the stubborn streak my mother instilled in me to never rely on a man — or three — for anything.

"We know you can, sweetheart," Daddy says gently, understanding the real issue. "But let us spoil you a little. Please?"

I'm about to respond when raised voices near the baggage claim catch my attention. A small crowd has gathered around a distraught-looking man who's speaking rapidly in what sounds like German to a police officer.

"What's going on?" I ask, my journalist instincts kicking in.

A woman standing nearby turns to us. "That poor man's daughter," she says in accented English. "She was supposed to meet him here, but she never showed up. Her phone goes straight to voicemail."

"Maybe she missed her flight?" Daddy suggests.

The woman shakes her head. "No, she landed. They found her luggage, but she's gone. Just … disappeared."