Chapter Twenty-Three. Riley #2
We head back to the loungers, where Luna puts on a long-sleeved lace cover-up over her black bikini that only serves to make the outfit even sexier.
Back at the hotel, we both take the ultimate everything showers, and I scrub the sand from my toes and shave and lotion my legs with care.
When I step out of the shower, still wrapped in a towel, Luna is in a stunning drop-waist white-and-blue linen dress with spaghetti straps so delicate, they look like they could snap at any moment.
She has a wicker bag with fabric straps, oval-shaped black sunglasses, and heels.
“Think it’s too much?”
“I think you should wear it every day.”
I put on another linen shorts and button-down set, this time in white with blue embroidery on the cuffs, that I think complements Luna’s dress nicely.
I just wear Birks and put my phone and wallet in my pocket.
I don’t even have makeup on, but when I look up and see how Luna’s gazing at me, I feel like I may as well be on a red carpet.
“Fuck. You’re so beautiful,” Luna murmurs. “Can we take a picture together?”
“Of course.”
Luna puts her arms on my shoulders and I pull her hips to mine. She kisses me, undoubtedly ruining her perfect pink lipstick by leaving it all over my face.
We take a few pictures with her small digital camera, kissing and posing, and then ride into town to explore.
The van stays nearby, and Luna’s security trails behind us throughout the day.
Sometimes I’ll forget he’s there too now, until I see him in a shop window’s reflection a few feet behind us.
But even though I catch a few people taking photos of Luna or doing double takes, most people are too wrapped up in their own honeymoons and vacations to take much notice of us.
I wonder if part of it is because they don’t expect to see Luna Leya next to them on the street since she’s not doing a show here, and she’s not in a sequined bodysuit, boots, and full makeup, so most of them think it must not actually be her.
We walk by the famous windmills and through the blue-and-white town and stone streets, stopping in stores so Luna can shop.
She asks most of the places to send her purchases to the hotel so she doesn’t have to carry the bags, and I’m shocked when they agree.
Maybe it’s because she’s buying three-hundred-euro dresses and thousand-euro jewelry, rather than five-euro key chains like I do.
As the sun is dipping into the water, we walk by an alley full of restaurant tables, the last of which is almost in the water, the waves lapping at the chair legs. I examine the menu carefully, and it’s small, with all local dishes. “Want to eat here?” I ask Luna.
“Only if we can sit at the table that’s in the water.”
Luna and I get seated at the table, and she sets about ordering almost every item on the menu, even though I’m sure we’ll barely be able to finish half of it.
The waiter doesn’t recognize her, which she absolutely loves, and once she’s finished picking food, I select a Greek wine that I’ve wanted to try.
I don’t think I’ve ever sat at a more beautiful restaurant.
The table is set up so that instead of one person facing away from the water and the other person looking directly at it, we’re each side on with the water and can angle our chairs to watch the sunset as we sip our wine.
We stow our shoes and let our feet get splashed by the small waves that hit at exactly level with where the ground is built up to, and each time we get wet, Luna laughs out loud.
Other people filter in, a mix of tourists and Greeks, and soon the tiny alleyway is filled with tables eating and drinking.
As we taste the food, I’m blown away. The sea bass and octopus are fresh and lightly seasoned, and the tomatoes, bread, and Kopanisti cheese appetizer is to die for.
Everyone around us is having a fantastic dinner and is so relaxed.
It’s clear the waiters are happy to be here, and they don’t hesitate to linger and watch the boats and the water as the light fades.
“This is the kind of restaurant I’d love to have,” I tell Luna as we eat our third course.
“It’s tiny, but the food should have a Michelin star, it’s so fresh and simple, and they can serve whatever they want and people will love it.
I bet they have regulars. You’re My Lobster has so many die-hard regulars and people who come back every summer, and it really makes it feel like part of the fabric of the town.
I want to do that. And this place is just so beautiful.
I feel like the owner made it exactly what they wanted.
It would just be so cool to have a place where I could wake up whenever I wanted and go, like, Today I want to play with tomatoes, and make a whole menu centered around local tomatoes, and the guests trust me enough to just try whatever I put in front of them. ”
Owning a restaurant has always just been a far-off idea in my mind that was more blurry than clear and never felt like something that could be actualized. But suddenly this feels like it could be a concrete dream, a goal, even. Something I know I would love.
“I think that sounds like my new favorite restaurant,” Luna says firmly. “I’ve never been anywhere like this, especially in the US. I love feeling like we’re basically in the water. And this food…” She punctuates her words with a bite of pulpo and groans. “It’s almost as good as yours.”
I smile at her. For the first time, it feels like I might have something worth risking disappointing my dads for.
I know it’s not that simple, but right now, with Luna across from me, it feels like I could do anything I want to.
I want to kiss her. But instead I settle for pressing my bare knee into hers under the table.
She takes my hand and I squeeze it back. But then I let go. “We shouldn’t,” I whisper.
“We did this before.”
“But we didn’t have anything to deny before.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t we?”
I’m not the one with something to lose here. But I care too much about her to let her risk it. I’m willing to wait so she doesn’t have to risk her dreams, even a little bit. “I’ll make it all up to you later.”
“I like the sound of that,” she whispers. The waiter clears our plates and brings us one of every dessert on the menu, which we set about taste-testing one by one. “You can do it, you know. Open the restaurant.”
“You say that about every idea I have. Don’t you want to keep my cooking all to yourself?” I take a bite of baklava with honey ice cream and have to hold back a groan.
“Not even a little bit,” Luna says firmly. “And I can tell this idea is different. This one is the start of something, and I want you to do it because you’d be amazing at it and even if you won’t admit it, I know you want to make something really special.”
Luna’s the first person who’s encouraged me to dream as big as I want—since Liv, at least. It feels good to have someone who believes in me as firmly as she does. “Thank you.”
The rest of the night, I can’t get the idea of a restaurant in the sand out of my head.