Page 98 of Holding Out for a Gyro
He shot me a smirk. “Or was he?”
“Was he?” I figured I’d find out.
Bas parked outside a little restaurant in Mykines, where we ate moussaka to die for. Even Bas said it was the best he’d had. Then we hiked uphill and back in time, to approximately 1300 B.C. according to the online guide. It was a gorgeous dayfor exploring the archaeological site of Mycenae, the legendary capital of the Achaeans.
“I should probably readThe Iliad,” I said as we walked through the large doorway into the beehive tomb.
“We could go to Troy one day,” Bas said, as if we had all the time in the world.
“Where’s that?”
He waved vaguely toward the horizon. “Across the Aegean Sea. Present-day Turkey.”
“I’ve always wanted to visit Istanbul.”
He shrugged. “Maybe not today, though.”
It floored me to think how vast this region of the world was. To the north, we could explore Mount Olympus. To the south, the enormous island of Crete. Dozens of smaller islands dotted the Aegean Sea. “I’d love to see Mykonos.”
“We could take a boat over for a day.”
But when? We’d be leaving soon. “I’m gonna have to come back here sometime.”
His eyebrows shot up. “To see Agamemnon?”
I laughed. “I mean, was he ever really here?”
And so went the final moments of our carefree travels as we headed toward our destination—the hotel in Vouliagmeni.
We’d avoided the conversation about whether Bas would remain in Greece now that we were anus. The last time we’d even broached that topic, we’d still been on the other side of this relationship. We’d crossed the Rubicon, and I didn’t know where he started and I ended. I’d never known love could be like this, not for me.
When we made love, he felt like my best friend. And when we strolled around, joking, having fun, he’d touch me in ways that let me know he wanted me like I wanted him.
We’d spent days brushing against each other in public, then snorting with laughter in private.
He made me believe I could unpack my bags and lay down my fears. I knew he wouldn’t let me down. He’d told me I was his home. He had to come back with me.
We’d come a long way in a few days. I felt proud of myself for overcoming years of bad programming and proving I could be vulnerable in more ways than I’d ever believed. I’d unlocked romance.
As we crossed over the Corinth Canal separating the Peloponnese from the Greek mainland, I practice my communication skills, explicitly telling him, “I can’t go home alone.” I needed to know we were together in this. “Promise me you won’t stay here without me.”
I couldn’t even imagine my days waking up in my bed without Bas there to crowd me, challenge me, worship me. It would be unbearable. I’d miss him too much.
“No,” he said with a grin. “We’re in this together now. Οπου κι αν πας.”
“It’s sexy when you speak Greek. What does it mean?”
“Wherever you go.”
“Yes. Wherever you go.” I sighed, knowing I’d won. “I’m totally going to learn Greek. Teach me more.”
We skirted Athens on our approach to Vouliagmeni, and Bas fell quiet. I figured he was nervous about declining the job. It had to be hard to disappoint his family. I’d seen how important they were. But he’d given it an honest chance. They’d have to see that.
At sunset, we arrived in an area that reminded me of Florida, with palm trees lining the median. Bas turned into a drive beside a huge white hotel perched on a hill above the waterfront. The reds of the early evening sunset tinged the hotel with a pink hue, and the water sparkled in the fading light. I could see the appeal of the location even if I would have preferred to stay in Athens where there were more sites to explore. I’d seen enough water tolast me a while.
Still, I had to confess, “You were right. It’s gorgeous here. I can see why you love it.”
I followed Bas into the lobby, where he introduced me to his uncle in English. Bas had taught me a few useful Greek phrases, but I didn’t trust myself at all with them.
