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Without turning to meet his gaze, I reply, “Good guess.”
“I didn’t take you as a gin type of person,” Andrew says.
I let out a small scoff, turning to meet his intense gaze. My eyes narrow slightly. “Enlighten me, then. What type of person would you have taken me for?”
He chuckles. “You look like more of a dark liquor girl. Rum or whiskey.”
“I enjoy those, too. Can’t I be an all types of alcohol person?” I retort, raising a brow.
He smirks, looking down at his glass. Right before taking a sip, he says, “I guess you can.”
I glance at his drink, and I can tell what it is just by its potent smell.
“Ouzo. Surprise, surprise. Greek men are so predictable.” I roll my eyes, a grin pulling at my lips. I don’t know why I feel comfortable enough to engage in this type of banter with him, considering how uncomfortable I was moments ago, but I can’t deny that Andrew seems quite pleasant. I guess I should be thankful that he’s not an asshole. Yet.
Things could easily change once we’re married. I won’t think about that now.
This time, Andrew laughs out loud, grabbing the attention of our parents. I look at them, and my mother smiles at me. She’s probably happy that we’re getting along.
“Not my first choice, but your father offered me a glass. I couldn’t refuse.”
“Uh huh,” I say, with a little wink.
I turn and look outside again. I can see the soft glow of the guest house in the distance. Andrew follows my gaze.
“Is that where the magic happens?”
His question catches me by surprise until I realize what he’s referring to. The flowers.
“Yes. Yes, um, that’s my makeshift studio.”
“Thélis na figis apó edó?” he asks.
Do I want to get out of there? With him? I glance over at our families. My brother’s face is buried into his phone. My father looks half asleep on the lounge chair, and our mothers are in deep conversation, probably already planning the engagement party and wedding.
I have nothing better to do.
I shrug. “Sure.”
We manage to sneak out of the room, topped-up drinks in hand, and I lead Andrew to the back patio doors. Once we step outside, the cool air hits my face, instantly calming me.
We walk down the path in silence, passing through my backyard garden. The moonlight casts a glow over the tangle of plants, where fireflies twinkle like tiny lanterns. The scent of herbs reaches my nostrils, and I’m grateful for this moment of tranquility.
When we reach the entrance, I input the code. The door unlocks, and I step inside, Andrew a safe distance behind me.
Just then, I realize that I’m alone in a small space with a stranger. He won’t do anything crazy, right? I mean, our parents aren’t that far away. Please, God, don’t make him a rapist.
Awkwardly, I walk deeper into the studio. Andrew doesn’t follow me, and I’m relieved.
“Wow,” he whispers. “How much time do you spend here?”
I check on my peace lily plants, dipping my fingers into the soil to check the moisture. “A lot, I guess.” I shrug. “I don’t work, so this is what I spend my days doing. I’m a certified botanist and plant mom,” I say proudly.
Andrew walks through the studio, looking at every flower on his way and stopping right in front of me. “Does that mean I’ll have to build you one of these?” He smiles, pointing around the space.
A niggling feeling of skepticism creeps up on me. It’s not that I don’t appreciate kindness, but it feels…a bit too good to be true. We’ve only just met, after all.
Part of me wants to believe it’s genuine, that maybe I’ve been lucky enough to be tied to a man who will be caring and attentive. But a small, cynical voice in the back of my mind whispers doubts.
