Page 100 of Holding Out for a Gyro
“Love you, Chels. Have a great last weekend in Greece.”
“Love you, too, E. See you soon!”
I clicked off and took my time getting ready, putting on makeup and styling my hair until I’d be irresistible to Bas.
When he came to find me, his eyes popped. “Wow. Do we have to go out?”
“Tsk. I’m just your girlfriend.”
“You are, aren’t you?” He grinned. “I can’t get used to that.”
I’d never had any use for labels in the past, but I got it now. I loved the security in laying claim, publicly calling Bas mine.
“Get used to it.”
He kissed me. “I hope you’ll feel the same way tomorrow.”
“You mean next week?” I couldn’t blame him for doubting that I’d want to continue our relationship such as it was when we got home, but I’d meant it when I’d said he was it for me. “I will.”
He straightened up and put on his best I-mean-business expression. “Come with me.”
We returned to the lobby. He led me through the restaurant to the kitchen where chefs bustled around stainless steel workstations. Water boiled in pots on the stove, and meat turned on a spit. The room smelled like heaven.
“Look at this kitchen.”
“Yeah.” It was much bigger than the one at the grocery store. “It’s huge.”
“It’s limitless.”
I looked around. “It’s not limitless, but it’s definitely impressive.”
“Better than the tiny market restaurant.” He slid his armsaround my waist. “Remember when I cooked for you there?”
“That was like our first date.”
It seemed like ages ago. I’d been so up in my head at the time, I’d fought against even the slightest warmth from him. And here we were now, a world away, in a restaurant that had been merely an idea. My gut twisted as I recalled how a naive, unromantic Chelsea urged him to move here, take the job, go on an adventure of a lifetime. Maybe all that mythology had me thinking of fate, and a part of me whispered that I should let him go so he could be the great chef he was destined to become.
But I was selfish. He belonged to me now, and I wasn’t leaving here without him.
“Wait until you try the food.” He took my hand, grinning, and the twinge of guilt for asking him to give this up redoubled. If he could find a restaurant like this closer to home, it would be perfect.
We sat on the terrace, and as I opened the menu, Bas said, “There’s so much fresh seafood around here. Look at all these options.”
His excitement over the menu didn’t betray any hint of sadness about walking away. Something felt off.
I frowned at the indecipherable words. The first line read Σολομ?ς. “What is that?”
“Salmon.”
I gave up and dropped the menu on the table. “You order for me.”
He spoke to the waiter, but I didn’t understand anything. Normally, Bas speaking Greek might have made me swoon, but I was irritated at how relaxed and integrated he behaved. It made me feel cut off and gave me a bad feeling about the place, like the hotel was still my rival.
He poured me a glass of wine. “It’s funny, you know. Nothing has gone as I expected for the past few weeks.”
“No?” I smiled nervously.
“No. I thought I’d come here and hate it. Or maybe you’d hate it here. And either I’d stay here without you, or I’d go back to Virginia and pour my soul into searching for another job. Or worse, that you and I would go back to the status quo.”
