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More than anything else.
And while it was intoxicating…
It was also frightening.
To know that after years of keeping men at arm’s length, one was so close to me now that he might consider giving up everything just to have me.
It was also scary to feel the first faint stirrings of maybe, just maybe, considering doing the same for him.
In the end, he said, We don’t have to figure it out right this instant. Like you said, I’ve got three more years before I even have any options. I love you, and you love me – that’s all we need to know right now. Let’s just enjoy this week and not worry about the future, okay?
I agreed, and we went back on our walk.
Later, I told myself variations on what I’d said when I’d left Afghanistan:
That it wasn’t worth worrying about because it would probably never happen.
That Lars would lose interest over the next three years, and everything would fade away.
Except this time, I didn’t believe it.
Not one bit.
51
Lars
We started to get hungry, so we caught a taxi back to Vauxhall – the neighborhood my hotel was located in. There was a cool little Portuguese bar/restaurant nearby that Rachel liked, so we walked in to be seated –
When I heard a male British voice say, “Rachel?”
I turned to see a guy in an expensive suit, white shirt, and loosened tie. He was as tall as me, though he was wiry and much lighter. He had neatly trimmed brown hair, a clean-shaven face, and the straightest posture I’d ever seen.
“Alistair!” Rachel said in a surprised voice – though not exactly pleasantly surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“A few of us came for drinks after work.”
I had thought Rachel spoke with an elegant English accent, but Alistair’s practically screamed ‘aristocrat.’
“I thought you were more a fan of Le Gavroche or Club Gascon,” Rachel said.
Those sounded like far more expensive restaurants than the one we were in. What with his suit, his accent, and a name like Alistair, it seemed a likely bet.
“Yes, well, one doesn’t always get to choose,” Alistair said with a smile, then looked expectantly at me. “And you are…?”
“I’m sorry, I’m being rude,” Rachel said. “Alistair, this is my friend Lars.”
Considering that we’d just said ‘I love you’ a few hours ago, I was a little surprised to be introduced as a ‘friend’ – but I saved that conversation for later.
Rachel continued. “Lars, this is Alistair, a colleague of mine.”
“Lars Henriksson,” I said, offering my hand.
“Alistair Webb,” he said as we shook. “So – you must be why Rachel’s taken a week off from work. How’s the trip so far?”
I noted the slight discomfort on Rachel’s face when he mentioned her vacation time.
“Wonderful,” I replied. “She’s quite the tour guide.”
