Page 32 of Not My Greek Wedding

‘As if.’ I laugh.

‘I’ll be forty soon,’ she says.

‘Which is no age these days,’ I remind her.

‘Maybe so, but what the heck, I’m up for enjoying myself,’ she says, as she glances around.

As we make our way to the bar to order a drink, Christos appears out of nowhere and my stomach does a little flip. He looks smart in a dark shirt and a pair of cream-colouredtrousers, an expensive-looking watch on his wrist. As he draws closer, I can see it is a Rolex.

‘So you made it.’ He leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek, and I smell the Tom Ford scent once more.

He greets Lulu with a kiss on the cheek too, as we take our seats on bar stools.

‘So, what is the cocktail of your choice? Spyros here can make anything,’ he says to the handsome but slightly serious-looking barman, or perhaps the correct term is mixologist.

‘Really? In that case, you can surprise me,’ I say. ‘Anything vodka based.’

‘I’ll have whatever my friend is having,’ says Lulu.

‘Coming up,’ says Spyros.

‘I’m so pleased you came,’ Christos whispers in my ear, as the bartender makes a theatrical display with the cocktail shaker. ‘You look sensational,’ he says, and I feel my heart rate go through the roof. Seriously what is wrong with me? This guy might as well have playboy stamped across his forehead.

‘Thanks,’ I manage to mutter.

Soon enough, a pink-looking liquid garnished with lime is poured into two cocktail glasses and pushed towards us.

‘Oh my goodness, this is incredible,’ Lulu says after taking a sip. ‘What’s it called?’ she asks our bartender.

‘The house cocktail. I call it a Spyros special.’ He smiles, and it transforms his face. ‘A little raspberry vodka, lime, ouzo and soda.’

‘Wow, I agree it’s delicious,’ I say, although it feels a little potent.

Christos chats for a short while, talking about the wedding, and asking how long I have known Tasha. He is courteous and includes Lulu in the conversation, asking about her kids when she tells him she is a mother of teenagers.

‘That must be hard work,’ he says, sipping his iced water. ‘I can’t ever imagine having kids.’

For some reason, his comment gives me a twinge of disappointment and I tell myself to get a grip.

A while later the club begins to slowly fill up as the DJ ramps up the volume and plays some familiar club tunes.

A man around his own age approaches Christos, and he makes his excuses and disappears somewhere with him, telling us he will chat later.

‘Bye.’ I smile brightly, and then he is gone.

We take a seat in a booth, and listen to some music as I snap away with my camera phone. The selfies are amazing, and I cannot wait to upload them later.

‘Fancy a dance?’ I say half an hour later, having had another cocktail and raring to go. When I had produced my bank card at the bar Christos appeared out of nowhere once more and told us that they were on the house.

‘Two cocktails.’ Lulu had nudged me. ‘He definitely fancies you.’

I brushed off her comment, but feeling secretly thrilled.

The floor is graced by impossibly glamorous types, some going for it and showing off their dance skills, others barely moving their feet and sipping drinks through straws.

‘Go on then,’ she says. ‘Let’s have a dance, another step towards really letting my hair down.’ She winks.

As we approach the floor, the music switches to a well-known nineties club classic and Lulu and I really get into it, waving our arms and singing, as a bunch of women who have just entered the club join us.

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