She shrugged self-consciously. “I think you’re giving me more credit than I deserve.”
“You know, I’d really like to keep seeing you,” he said, laying his hand on hers.
Her heart sank. She was going to have to disappoint him. She’d never been good at letting people down.
“Warren, I really like you—”
“No, please, let me say this,” Warren cut her off. “In an ideal world, we’d find a way to make this work, see where it takes us. But the reality is that I don’t have time to commit to a long-distance relationship.”
She swallowed and tried not to look as relieved as she felt. “Oh.”
“I’m not even sure I could commit to anything if you lived in London. I can’t commit to anything right now. I don’t want you to think that I’ve been leading you on. I genuinely like you, and when we first met, I didn’t honestly think that this column thing had legs, but since being here and working on it, it’s all just come together, and I really think I’m in with a shot. And if I’m right, and I get it, then I’m going to have to give it everything.”
She felt almost guilty for how grateful she was at having dodged a bullet.
“I think you’re right,” she said, smiling at him to show that there were no hard feelings.
“You do?” He looked a little crestfallen.
“Yes. Your career needs your full attention right now.Long-distance relationships are hard enough, without a new job taking up space. I get it.”
“Right,” he said, pushing away a dish of hummus. “I was kind of hoping you might fight me on it a bit.”
She laughed. “I think we both know that the timing on this is all wrong. When we met, I didn’t know that I was going to end up working at the family business, I was looking for any excuse to get the hell back out of town again as soon as possible. And now I’m staying put. A long-distance relationship wouldn’t be right for either of us right now. I think we’d disappoint each other; and that would be a shame, after the nice time we’ve shared.”
“Well, then, I guess that’s settled,” he agreed. “Pity, though. If we’d met at another time, we could have been great.”
“Anything’s possible in the land of shoulda, woulda, coulda.” She smiled.
Kelly—Mrs. Doukas’s granddaughter—poured them more wine and took their plates, which were swiftly replaced with several more.
Warren raised his glass. “To the best ‘almost something’ that never was,” he said, smiling.
“I’ll drink to that.” She clinked her glass against his.
He leaned across the table conspiratorially and said, in a low voice, “I’ve enjoyed kissing you.” His eyes smoldered enticingly. “Very much. Maybe after dinner we should go back to mine, say goodbye properly.”
Oh dear. She couldn’t possibly sleep with him. She wasall for last hurrahs, but not when another man was making her heart skip. It wouldn’t be fair to any of them. Instead, she chose to ignore his last inference. They clinked glasses again and surveyed the new dishes before them. She hadn’t thought she could eat another thing. But now that Warren was off the menu, those stuffed vine leaves and the dishes of lamb kleftiko and vegetable moussaka were calling her name.
When the puddings came out—sticky towers of oozy baklava, squares of honey cake, and an avalanche of kourabiedes smothered in icing sugar—so did the Doukas family band, playing their beautifully decorated bouzoukis as they sang, led by Mr. Doukas. Soon the whole restaurant was up and dancing, and Fred was grateful to blend into the melee after being on show for the last two and a half hours.
They went halves and paid in full, despite the Doukases’ protests. Fred thought, if she could, Mrs. Doukas would adopt Warren as an honorary grandson. After the dancing and the very alcoholic coffee, the cold outside was welcome. The market had closed for the evening, but the streets were still abuzz with visitors and the Christmas lights were giving the blanket of stars in the clear night sky a run for their money.
“When do you leave?” Fred asked as they wandered along the street toward the Crooked Elm.
“Tomorrow. I’ll get my notes written up from tonight, and then pack. That’ll give me a couple of days back in London to get the article ready and sent off before the deadline.”
“I’m sure you’ll smash it.”
“Thanks. If sheer will can force an outcome, then it ought to be in the bag.”
“Will you let me know?”
“I will. If I get it, you’ll probably be able to hear me crowing from London.” He grinned and raised a knowing eyebrow, and she couldn’t help but smile. “And then you’ll be able to follow my food odyssey, weekly, on page forty.”
She laughed. “Page forty. Got it.”
They’d reached the pub. The tall patio heaters dotted between the picnic benches ensured that the revelries were in full swing outside in the beer garden, as well as inside.
