‘Meat on skewers, we call themkalamákia.’
‘Butkalamákiais the word for “straws”.’
‘Exactly. Meat on sticks. Like straws.’
‘So, what issouvlakiain Athens?’
‘Chunks of meat in pita bread.’
‘Wow. Who knew? Not me.’
He looked at her. ‘Have you been to Athens?’
‘Once to stay. A few times to travel through to get here in the winter.’
‘The area of Plaka? Walked up to the Acropolis?’
‘Yes.’
He smiled. ‘Athens has many sides. You should see more.’
‘I did like it. It felt welcoming. You know how some cities can feel a bit overwhelming or pretentious? It felt the opposite.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘You do not like pretentious things?’
‘I like truth,’ Faye said firmly. ‘Honesty over bullshit. Sorry if that’s a bit old-fashioned.’
He nodded, letting what she said sink in. ‘Your husband was not honest with you?’
She shook her head. ‘And I am sure there are many things I still don’t know.’ She shrugged. ‘But I am way past caring now.’ She swung her arm back, stone in hand. ‘Because I have… self-belief.’
He watched her snap her wrist back fast and send the pebble off. It hit the water, it skipped, it hit the water again, jumped, it bounced off the sea for a third time, and popped up, skipped again, before finally it was lost to the depths.
18
‘Did you see?’ Faye exclaimed, excitement shining in her eyes. ‘How many was it? Was it five?’
Kostas wanted to say it was five. He wanted it to be the best she had ever done. But then he remembered… she wanted honesty.
‘It was four,’ he said, nodding. ‘It was great. A really good job.’
‘Well, I haven’t done four in years!’
She fist-bumped the air and jumped up, landing and twirling around on the stones, hands in the air. Pure, simple, unfiltered happiness like the way Panagioths and Vasilis celebrated their basketball games back in Athens. The way he used to celebrate. Suddenly he ached to feel like that again.
‘So, now it’s your turn!’ Faye announced. ‘Let me see what stones you have.’
Without any more preamble she took his hand and unfurled his fingers, revealing the pebbles he had chosen.
‘Ooo, OK, very flat,’ she commented.
Now she was holding his hand his skin was practically prickling with desire. What was it about her?
He broke the connection, kept hold of one stone and dropped the others to the beach. ‘Flatter is better but it really is in the wrist action.’ OK, Romeo, bad choice of words. Then, with a quick flick – one completely at odds with any technique he’d perfected – he launched the stone. And watched it drop heavily into the water.
He took a breath and looked back to her with a shrug. ‘I guess tonight is not my night.’
‘I guess my self-belief was stronger than yours,’ Faye replied.
