Page 8 of Not My Greek Wedding

His partner is glancing at us both, with what seems to be a forced smile.

‘Oh, and the one in Dublin in that club.’ He grins. ‘You looked like you were having a ball.’

I remember that one too. I was wearing the skimpiest dress ever and was slightly the worse for wear after unlimited free Prosecco. There may even have been a glimpse of underwear when I slid off a bar stool. Definitely not my proudest moment.

That particular video was posted by a so-called friend at the time, and has since been deleted, along with the friendship.

The bloke is given a filthy look by his partner, before she plugs some earbuds in. He gives a little shrug before pulling a book from his bag, and that is the end of the conversation.

I was recognised though, with almost fifty thousand followers. Imagine what it would be like if I had a million followers. Maybe I would have to fight off paparazzi!

Later in the flight, the woman next to me seems to have softened, and offers me a boiled sweet that I politely decline.

We chat for a little while then, and she tells me she isn’t really one for the internet and prefers to read books.

‘He’s always online though.’ She nods to her partner, who is now the one wearing earbuds. ‘I don’t really know what he looks at half the time. Sorry if I was a bit off earlier,’ she says sheepishly.

‘It’s fine, really.’ I smile.

‘It’s just that, well, we have had a couple of trust issues in the past,’ she reveals. ‘I found out he was messaging someone online. Gosh, sorry you don’t want to be hearing this.’ She rolls her eyes.

‘Honestly, it’s fine. And I’m glad you came through it,’ I say.

‘We did thankfully and we’re now coming up to our third anniversary,’ she tells me.

Maybe him saying he recognised me from the internet dredged up bad memories for her.

‘I think the fact that he recognised you just triggered something in me,’ she says, confirming my suspicions. ‘But if you can’t trust each other, then what’s the point? It was only an old school friend he was messaging anyway, and he swears that they were just catching up, and that nothing happened.’

And that is why I am happily single, I think to myself as I take a mirror from my bag and apply a little lipstick, even though myex never cheated. Or maybe he did. He very quickly hooked up with someone else after things ended between us, as I recall.

Anyway, for now, I am quite happy working on my Insta and TikTok accounts, and maybe reprising my singing career sometime in the future.

Unless, of course, I just happen to meet someone who is meant to be in my life. I truly believe that everything that is meant to be will come along at just the right time. Until then, I am ready to just enjoy the ride and see what life throws at me!

SEVEN

Stepping off the plane is like walking into a hot oven and I squint at the bright sun, before popping my sunglasses on.

This is what it’s all about, I think to myself, taking a quick selfie at the bottom of the plane stairs, the brilliant blue sky in the background in complete contrast to the grey sky on the journey out here.

A woman behind me tuts loudly, but I guess I did come to an abrupt stop at the end of the stairs, and she is balancing a baby on her hip, so I mumble an apology. Going on holiday with kids must be so stressful.

Santorini Airport is buzzing with excitement and I join the queue for passport control, along with the other passengers. In a short while though I will be stretched out on a sunlounger, sipping something ice cold, and the thought of it keeps me going as the queue continues at a snail’s pace.

The scent of suntan lotion and perfume mingle in the air as I squeeze my way towards the baggage carousel to retrieve my suitcase.

Two women, maybe in their early sixties, are laughing loudly, one of them swirling a hand-held fan in front of her face. Shelooks vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite place her. Maybe she just has one of those faces.

I find myself wondering what their story is. Are they old or new friends? Are they happily married, or off escaping an unhappy marriage for a week in the sun? Perhaps they have become newly divorced or widowed and are kicking up their heels having the time of their lives?

I have always had a vivid imagination. In fact, my schoolteacher once told me that I had the potential to become an author, but maybe that was down to the creative excuses I would invent for not handing my homework in on time.

Retrieving my suitcase I head outside, where a driver is holding my name up on a board. I climb inside the white taxi and the air con blasts a welcome breeze all over me.

‘Is it your first time in Santorini?’ asks the amiable middle-aged driver as we head out of the airport.

‘Yes, it is. I’m attending a wedding in Fira,’ I tell him.

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