‘I got scared.’ Lydia stares out at sea, and I picture her mother doing the same thing, maybe in this exact spot. ‘We were young. Foolish, I suppose. She was always so much more fun than me. At eighteen, she wanted to travel. She asked me to come with her. I said no. I never saw her again.’
‘Didn’t you keep in touch?’
‘I tried,’ Lydia says, adopting a wistful tone. ‘But she travelled and we tried to keep in touch, but it wasn’t the same. Travelling changes you. She forgot about me, but I never forgot about her.’
Lydia gives a resigned sigh.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be,’ Lydia says. ‘It was a long time ago.’
‘There’s no time limit on how long to grieve losing someone.’ I repeat Sam’s ethos.
‘You’re right,’ Lydia says. ‘It still hurts. There hasn’t been another girl like her.’
‘That was how I felt about Ollie. Until…’
‘Sam,’ Lydia finishes the sentence for me.
‘That’s right.’ And your words giving me nightmares.
The pink boat’s doors open and a man steps out. He must be in his thirties, judging by his complexion, though he’s got grey hair that doesn’t look natural. He waves at Lydia, clearly recognising her, and she waves back, getting to her feet.
‘If that’s how Sam makes you feel, don’t let him go,’ Lydia says firmly.
‘Thanks, Lydia.’
She turns to the sea. I do, too. Both of us lost in thoughts of those we let play with our hearts.
‘I’ll see you around.’ She makes to leave, then turns back. ‘Actually, come to the Taste of Athens restaurant tomorrow night. There’s a celebration going on there. Greek plate smashing. If you’ve never seen it, it’s worth it. Bring along Sam. Be my guests.’
I give Lydia my cheesiest grin. ‘Are we friends now, Lydia?’
‘Don’t push it.’
‘Okay. Sure. I’ll be there.’
‘Avrio,’ Lydia waves, blowing a kiss.
She approaches the boat at the same time as another couple. They all greet one another with familiarity, and as they climb on board, it makes me miss Alice and home.
Chapter Forty-Three
WILL
Day Twelve
‘Don’t forget what we tell them when they get here,’ I say to Sam. ‘This isn’t your apartment. You know the owners.’
Sam pauses singing along to an early Noughties pop track.
‘Remind me again why we’re lying about this when you’re asking Ollie to come clean to Alec?’
‘Because a little white lie is nothing compared to the monster lie he’s told Alec about me being just a friend. And we can’t exactly tell him that we were fake-dating this whole time.’
‘Are we still fake-dating?’
My voice rises. ‘Sam, not now.’
