Gina
Zander and I left the coffee shop. Once we were out on the sidewalk, he turned to me.
“There’s a small Italian place about two blocks down, if you don’t mind walking,” he said.
“Oh, I don’t mind. I actually like to walk—I get my steps in,” I laughed.
“Your steps in?” he raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, you never heard that before? They say to get 10,000 steps a day for exercise. Get it—get your steps in?” I teased.
“Well, I guess I’m behind in lingo. I just go to a gym. Never tried counting steps,” he laughed.
“Then we can start now. I’ll tell you how many steps we’ve done,” I said, giggling.
As we walked toward the restaurant, Zander spoke again.
“Sorry about my father earlier. I know it’s just an excuse, but we’re Greek… marriage and babies, that’s the Greek way,” he said sheepish
