Ruby Rafferty has won the ultimate prize - a luxury holiday in Crete! In theory, it couldn't be more perfect - endless sun, Greek food, an unlimited free bar . . . There's only one problem.
The man she has no choice but to share the prize with.
Lewi...
Lewis is still slightly "off" the following morning. He seems nervy and on edge and incredibly distracted, leaving me wondering once again what he's expecting Matala to hold.
I find his mood affects my own: I'm practically throbbing with my own particular brand of tension as I apply my make-up and get dressed. I opt for a lilac sundress today, layered over a purple bikini. Sadly, even the low cut nature of my dress doesn't seem to have its desired impact on Lewis. Which is slightly disappointing because my boobs look gooooood today!
Dimitrios is back and waiting for us at the car. "Is everything okay with your family?" I ask as we clamber into the back of the car. "Milos said you had an emergency on Monday?"
"No, no, that was not the case." I catch his frown in the rear view mirror. "Milos gave me the day off. I did have a lovely day with my family, though!"
I exchange a quick glance with Lewis and notice his lips are pressed together with suspicion. So it seems Milos was just looking for an excuse to observe us. Possibly even to get me alone. Lewis' hand tightens subtly around mine, and I dole out a supportive squeeze in return. If Milos had any sort of plan, it totally backfired anyway. If anything, him questioning our "relationship" had me visiting my true feelings, after all.
It takes us about an hour to reach our destination, and I'm feeling excited and anxious all at once as we finally pull up in Matala. "Please spend as long here as you want," Dimitrios tells us. "It is a beautiful place."
He's not wrong. He's deposited us near the beach, which looks like it's made up of small pebbles sparkling silvery in the sunshine. It provides a perfect contrast to the sea, a bright aquamarine colour today, and the sandstone caves stacked up on one side of the beach. I turn to my left and can see numerous bars and restaurants, bustling with tourists, and so much colour everywhere.
"It's perfect," I whisper, impulsively kicking off my sandals and stepping onto the beach. "Ouch," I immediately add, as a sharper stone stabs me in the sole of my foot. Lewis snorts, and I shoot him a glare.
"How quickly the romance of a place fades, eh?" he says dryly, but I'm relieved to see his first unforced smile of the day.
"So is it how you remembered?" I ask him as I slip my shoes back on. He takes in the area with a quick glance around and nods. "Yep. It doesn't seem to have changed much." The texture of his voice thickens, and he turns his head away from me, as if determined to avoid my eyes.
"Do you know about the caves?" he asks abruptly. "Hippies actually used to live in them back in the nineteen sixties! I wonder what that would have been like."
"Probably nowhere near as comfortable as our suite," I laugh, before gesturing towards the sea. "Although I guess the pool is pretty nice!"
"Do you want to have a wander around them?" Lewis suggests. There's a small booth selling tickets at the edge of the beach. I eagerly agree, glad to see he seems to be returning to his normal self. As if he's already faced whatever the scary thing was, and maybe it wasn't quite as bad as he thought it might be.
Some tourists have climbed up outrageously high, and I shudder as I tilt my head up to see them circumnavigate some of the caves several storeys up. "I am definitely not doing that," I say firmly, pointing at the daredevils/idiots above us. "I didn't come on this holiday to fall off the edge of a cliff. Although I did think at one point that I might end up pushing you off one."
It's his turn to laugh now, and it's a welcome sound to my ears. "Hopefully, you don't feel that way anymore," he teases, throwing an arm around me and pulling me in tightly.
"Only some of the time," I joke. He tuts lightly but draws me even closer, lips brushing lightly against my forehead. The sweet simplicity of the kiss makes me want to dissolve.
"I'm apparently getting less annoying, in that case, so I'll take that as a clear win."
Exploring the caves is actually good fun - clambering in and out of the rocky spaces, imagining what it would have been like to live there. I close my eyes and try to plan what furniture I would put in mine, and Lewis cackles his head off when he realises what I'm doing. "I'm not sure Oliver Bonas delivers here," he quips, and he nearly does earn a shove off the cliff for his cheek.
"I just think a nice velvet armchair would make all the difference to the space," I argue, although I'm unable to stop the smile spreading across my face. "Can I take a photo of you?" I find myself asking, as I watched him framed in a cave opening. He suddenly looks younger and softer, and he's radiating a strange sort of peace that is somehow magnetic, and I feel like I need to capture it on camera.
"Let's get a couplie," he says, taking my phone from me, and I almost recoil at the word. Are we a couple now? We're certainly acting like we are. And it's . . . nice. It actually feels really good.
And we look really good together, I realise, as we examine the photos a second later. As in . . . Happy: Together.
It's just the holiday, though, right? At the moment, we're wearing our summer wardrobe and painted with a vacation filter. When that filter fades. . . What will become of us? Do we return to our previous roles? Can anything really be the same?
I'm overthinking again. And I suspect Lewis is, too. He curls his fingers around my own, the pressure light, and his gaze snags on my face, his eyes searching mine. They're liquid caramel right now, glowing in the bright sun. "Shall we get something to eat?" he asks eventually. "I really fancy a crepe." I nod, although I don't believe that was what he originally planned to say.
After we've eaten, we wander back to the beach, find a quiet spot, and spread out our towels. "This beach might look pretty, but it is not comfortable," I comment, wriggling around as I try to get the stones under me to settle.
"Where's your velvet armchair when you need it?" Lewis sniggers, from his already prone position beside me, and I nudge him playfully. I like this slight shift in our dynamic - we can still argue and make jokes at one another's expense, but it's far more good-natured now. Less barbs and more banter. I don't want that to change, I realise. This is so much better.
But I also need some answers.
"Lewis?" I ask tentatively, and he raises himself onto his elbows and opens one eye. His face is wary, so I can tell he suspects what I'm about to ask. "Why were you so worried about coming here today?"
He scrubs a hand over his face, sighing and pushing himself back up to a sitting position. "I guess it's time for some of those truths I promised, eh? Okay." He takes a deep breath. "The main reason I was freaking out slightly about visiting Matala again . . . " He swallows hard and turns his head towards the sea, his voice lowering to almost a whisper.
"The last time I was here, I was 13 years old. And it was the last time I actually remember being truly happy as a kid."
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Poor Lewis. 😢
For those cursing me for leaving things on another cliffhanger (I mean, did you not see it coming with all the cliffs in this chapter???), I do plan to have the next chapter up by the end of the week. Oh, and maybe grab a tissue, just in case . . . No, not like THAT! It's gonna be emotional!
