Wish You Weren't Here (A Romantic Comedy)

Chapter Thirty Two

As Dimitrios drives us the short distance to Malia a few hours later, I find I'm actually looking forward to the trip after all. "I thought we'd go to the old town first," Lewis tells me after we wave our driver goodbye, assuring him we'll get a taxi back and he doesn't have to pick us up. "There's supposedly some great restaurants there."

"Have you been doing your research?" I tease him as he throws a casual arm around my shoulders. The old town is admittedly far more charming than the main strip. It reminds me of Koutouloufari minus the hills, bustling with locals and tourists alike.

"Of course." He pulls me closer. "Nothing but the best for my girl!"

My girl.

Those last two words linger briefly in the balmy air between us, as if they're awkwardly waiting to be addressed. We both choose to ignore them. "So where are you taking me?" I ask, my question effectively pushing his previous sentence away into the ether.

"Here." He stops decisively outside a pretty, traditionally Greek white and blue building, festooned in pretty dark pink flowers. It's still fairly early, so it's not too busy yet. I have a feeling it will fill up quickly, though; it's got that kind of vibe. "What do you think?"

"I'm up for it." I nod, already obsessed with its quaintness. And it's a good thing I was in agreement because it turns out he actually had the foresight to book a table! We're led through the building and up some stone stairs to a small balcony with a limited number of tables. At the moment, we're the only patrons in this area, so it feels very secluded and romantic.

"This is lovely," I tell Lewis. I rest my chin on my hand, watching his face light up with a relieved smile. He really is adorable. "Although what would you have done if I didn't like the look of this place?"

"Oh, I totally had that covered: I booked tables in several different restaurants just in case," he says airily, winking at me to reassure me that he's kidding. He picks up the wine list. "In all honesty, I feel like I have a pretty good grasp of what you like now," he adds softly after a brief hesitation. "And I don't just mean in terms of food."

I almost choke on a breath. "I'm inclined to agree." My voice emerges a hoarse whisper. His words, now that he's chosen to use them for good rather than evil, often have the power to floor me. These particular ones have me thinking back to the hotter memories from the past week, X-rated images flashing in my mind as if I'm flicking through the pages of a sexy Kama Sutra flipbook featuring me and Lewis as the stars.

But it's not just about the sex. It's also about intimacy. Sweetness. Feelings.

And I've never felt like this before.

"I've got a bit of a confession to make," he says after we've ordered, and a carafe of white wine has been placed in front of us. "When I said I had researched restaurants here . . . I actually did that before we even got to Crete."

"You did?" I blink in confusion, and he blushes.

"Once I knew we were definitely going through with this holiday plan, I started looking places up online. Just in case I needed to pull something romantic out of the bag." He grimaces, still looking embarrassed. "I mean, I knew the chance of anything happening between us was pretty slim, but I wanted to be prepared all the same."

This admission practically breaks me, my eyes one step away from welling up with tears. I can almost picture him: back home, studiously poring over TripAdvisor reviews on his laptop with his glasses on (and possibly topless again - a girl can dream!), noting down ideas he wasn't even sure he'd actually get the opportunity to use. It reminds me once again of the power I've reluctantly found myself wielding in our current relationship.