I took a group of people down with me when I fell. Tangled bodies trying to right themselves, and my duster jacket is over my head like a veil. I do not want to be reminded of weddings right now, thank you very much. The guns bob dangerously at their hips, swaying at their sides, and for a moment, my life flashes before my eyes.
‘I’m sorry!’ My hands rise in the air. Forget my case, forget any quick movements, just own up and try not to be killed. ‘I fell.Yamas!’
The Greek police, in their blue uniforms, slow down. Probably because I look so pathetic. And because they were coming over to see if I, and the people I took out were okay. A man with a black beard helps me up, faster than I fell. His strength is outstanding. My fantasy is overpowering my thoughts right now.
‘You should be careful.’
‘Sorry.’ I point to my case. ‘The gravity.’
He rights my case, wheeling it over to me with a push. ‘Welcome to Athens.’
Guiding my case through the automatic sliding doors, the heat hits me. Beads of sweat form on my forehead.
Yellow taxis snake away from view, drivers waiting patiently for new arrivals. Wheeling my case over, I catch the eye of a man in a loose shirt. He climbs out of the driver’s side of his car and walks to the boot, helping me lift my case.
‘Heavy.’ He heaves, and with a wincing expression, I help navigate the case into the trunk, breathing with relief.
‘I think I over-packed.’
He chuckles. ‘How long are you here for?’
We walk either side of the car. I take the back seat. ‘Twenty-five days.’
‘Long time,’ he says, eyebrows rising. ‘Ever been to Greece before?’
‘Never.’
Please don’t ask me what brought me here.
‘What brings you here?’
Damn.
He pulls out of the airport, weaving with expert ease.
‘A wedding.’
‘Ah, Greek wedding.’ There’s a warm twinkle in his eye as he pulls down the visor above him, where a photo of his beaming wife and two children stare back at me, as they bask in thegolden glow of setting Athenian sun. In that snapshot, they look so carefree. Unlike me, because I notice the visor is blocking his vision, meaning he can’t see the road. ‘Our wedding was very fun. She is the love of my life.’
‘That’s great to hear.’ I wince as he narrowly avoids a Fiat.
Everyone has their someone, and Ollie is mine. Hearing this man talk, his wedding ring visible on his hand, makes me feel validated in my decision to come here.
I considered it on the plane. Alec is a lovely guy, I’m certain, but he has my guy. Sometimes you have to fight for what you truly want, and what you know is right. Ollie is my Mr Right. Closure is good and all, but just like this man and his wife, Ollie is the love of my life.
The driver’s crinkled eyes, so full of love, make me want to hug him. How can you not be happy when you have someone to hold on to, someone you trust, someone who just fits in all the right places?
High on this romantic notion of love, the Greek scenery unfolds around me, and thoughts drift to the upcoming twenty-five days. Sunloungers, beaches, cocktails. Ollie, back at my side, our issues all sorted. We’d make up, iron out any kinks, explore each other’s kinks, and everything would be well again. Alec would tell me it’s okay, that he gives us his blessing, that he didn’t want Ollie anyway. He’d absolve me of my guilt. He’d leave Ollie and I alone.
We’d sip Mythos beer, or retsina, and then dare one another to drink ouzo. We’d break in half an Amygdalotá cookie, and savour the almond taste with rich Greek coffee. God, I’d love a coffee right now. First thing I’m doing is finding a cute coffee place. Somewhere I could take Ollie before he offers me Dolmadákia, and I’d take a bite, my lips brushing his fingertips. Our eyes would lock. There would be a pregnant pause before his lips found mine. After so long, we’d feel like we’d returned home.
My dick stirs as my imagination conjures what would come after the kiss, but the Greek driver is talking to me, and I can’t talk to him with a hard-on. I shift my hand luggage to cover my lap, hoping that my flushed skin can be put down to the temperature.
We come off a busy main road, dipping down a narrow lane, when the car jolts.
‘Oh, boy,’ the driver says with a groan.
‘What?’
