My Big Fat Christmas Wedding: A Funny And Heartwarming Christmas Romance. Samantha Tonge
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‘Although I still think you are too old to have one,’ he said and ran a hand through his slicked-back hair.
I got up and went to kiss his cheek, my lips almost landing on his nose instead, before sitting down again.
‘Come on, Pips – don’t you fancy a break from weather-beaten Taxos, its continual economic struggle and the distasteful refugee problem?’ He raised his eyebrows.
‘I’d have thought you’d be more sympathetic, now you’re engaged to a charity worker,’ I said, and playfully shook a finger. Clearly some things about him hadn’t changed.
‘I have a degree of sympathy, but wouldn’t want people migrating onto my doorstep.’
‘Henrik! Their situation is critical,’ I said and shrugged. ‘We have homeless in London.’
‘Yeah, a different class of homeless, if you ask me,’ he muttered. ‘Come on, Pippa. I know you’ve committed to living in this one-eyed place, but surely you could do with a break?’
‘It’s not one-eyed. There’s a lot going on here,’ I said, rambling.
Henrik folded his arms.
‘Anyway, I don’t think Niko would be happy at the prospect of leaving Taxos right now, you see there will be a lot of preparation for—’
‘Since when is Pippa Pattinson told what to do?’
I glanced away. ‘It’s not like that.’
‘But you want to come, don’t you?’
I looked back at him and opened my mouth but shut it with speed.
My mind, however, had no restrictions. London. Its diversity. The parks. Crossing the Thames at night. That ever-changing skyline. The frenetic pace of the rush-hour. And Henrik. Okay I admit it. He was good company, we had common interests. Love-stuff aside, I missed our friendship. That’s probably why the news of his engagement had unsteadied me for a while. I was probably the last, not the first, to know. It was a done deal. I hadn’t even known he was dating.
My chest squeezed. Yet my feelings for him couldn’t compare to the sensations Niko inspired. The very look of my fisherman fiancé echoed dimensions from the past. If he was cross it reminded me of the time I accidentally threw away his favourite pebble or ate the last biscuit from a childhood picnic. When he laughed I’d recall us catching crabs and shrieking as they snapped at our toes.
Yet Henrik represented security, everything that had become familiar – and fun – to me over recent years. He represented the doubt that had recently crept into my mind, about my future in Taxos. Could you ditch your life for a new one and have no questions, a few months afterwards?
Gently Apollo batted my knee several times. He cocked his head as if to say why not go to London? Just for a couple of days? What exactly are you afraid of?
Spiders? No. Snakes? Never. Clowns? Yes, but only as a child. I wasn’t even afraid of a potential zombie apocalypse, convinced that I could create suitably meaty scones to befriend the walking dead with, filled with oozing intestines and crunchy bones. But the prospect of returning to dynamic London, after four months in idyllic but tranquil Taxos? For some reason a sense of discomfort shifted in my chest.
I sat in Pippa’s Pantry, with a wholemeal date and walnut scone oozing Greek yogurt and honey. Steam from a cup of rich coffee warmed my nose. Winter sun streamed through the windows and I waved to Cosmo who cycled past, ducking under the branches of an olive tree. He always looked in, with a cheery smile, unafraid of being knocked over. If you took your eye off the road in Taxos, the worst outcome would be skidding in a pile of donkey dung.
Whereas in London, with its honking cars, whizzing bicycles and veering black taxis… My mouth upturned. Henrik used to get so cross at the thoughtlessness of drivers, until we visited Rome where the roads were far more dangerous. Slowly, I chewed my scone, savouring every mouthful – the soft crumbling dough, crunchy walnuts and satisfying dates, followed by the creamiest yogurt zinging with honey. All these flavours and textures danced together on my tongue, in perfect harmony.
Yet harmony was the last thing I had felt inside, since seeing Henrik on Saturday night. London. In a few weeks. So what exactly was I scared of?
I’d mulled it over yesterday as I sat in church, and then spent a quiet Sunday afternoon strolling along the beach. Finally, my heart had thumped out the answer: Henrik. Our old life. The executive hurly-burly…that was my real fear. Would a short visit make me wish I could move back to the lifestyle I’d only recently spurned? Ludicrous wasn’t it? One thing I loved about Taxos – apart from scrumptiousness-on-a-stick Niko – was the tradition, the sense of community, the old-fashioned pace.
And certainly for the first weeks here, I’d spent most days singing along with Grandma as I baked or gawped at stunning mountains. Yet eventually, when the initial adrenaline rush of setting up a new business dissipated, and I became used to the scenic delights, I felt twitchy – which had no logic, as I was only a few months into running my new business. Yet the teashop rooms had been easy to set up. With a new sign and a few interior design tweaks, as part of the established Taxos Taverna, it was ready to go. I needed a bigger challenge. Or did I? Sigh. Cue me looking like one of those confused smiley emoticons.
As the oven pinged, I drained my cup and got up. I’d just baked a batch of oregano and feta cheese scones to take to Mrs Manos. She’d looked so disappointed yesterday and weighed down, like ancient Greek Titan, Atlas, carrying a celestial globe.
Atlas. Titan. Those words brought me back to Henrik. I lifted the scones, all golden thanks to plenty of egg-wash, onto a baking tray and deeply exhaled. It had been good to see him yesterday. Good to talk big-scale assets and bailouts, profits and losses. And how he’d changed – helping us with the turtles…petting Apollo…getting engaged to a charity worker, a job title the old Henrik would have sneered at.
Okay… I needed to confront this head-on: was I perhaps…maybe…really afraid of feelings for him re-surfacing again? The answer “no” jumped into my head, only to be confirmed by two strong arms turning me around and lips pressing against mine. The words Perfect Fit came to mind. Discomfort at the previous unsettling thoughts dissolved like butter liquidising in a warm pan as my hands wrapped around Niko’s neck, and I breathed in that masculine, leathery smell. A heady sensation washed across me as my hands dropped and I moved them upwards again, underneath his checked shirt. My fingers ran over his skin and I longed to press my mouth against its smooth surface, as if it were the most tempting caramel latte.
Okay, that’s probably a little too much information, but the physical attraction drew me towards him like a Greek hummingbird to nectar. And Niko was just the right height. If I’d wanted to slide my arms around Henrik’s torso, he’d need to lift me onto the kitchen unit. Or lie next to me in bed and in his very determined way wrap his limbs around mine…
Urgh! What a shame my memory didn’t have a delete button. I cringed and focused instead on Niko and his strength born from a life of wrestling with Mother Nature. He could drag a net full of fish onto the sand as if it were a mere lilo. Unlike Henrik, who’d contact a professional handyman for any practical occasion, preferring not to get his own hands dirty.
‘Mmm. That kiss will keep me warm, Pippa, out on the waves today.’
I shivered at the thought of sailing out onto the briny waters, that took on a heartless shade of grey during winter months. ‘Hurry home so that I can warm you up again.’ I rubbed my hand up and down his arm. Granted, we weren’t inches deep in snow, but the temperature of the December breeze plummeted, out at sea. ‘Next year hopefully, with Taxos in better economic shape, you won’t have to risk your health to keep the taverna afloat.’
He stood back and took my hands. ‘Pippa, no worry about me. The sea is like a strict aunt I have known all