I sit down and look at her, and I have to stop myself from doing something stupid. The last thing I expected today was to run into her, but the minute I heard her voice, it was like electric currents went through me. I watch her as her eyes roam around the room taking in the decor, smiling at the waiter when he hands her the cardboard menu, I lean back in my chair. Looking around my favorite little Greek restaurant, I admire the pictures of Greece hanging on the walls, and it takes me back to the summers I used to spend there.

“This is a cute little place,” Vivienne says, looking down at her menu.

“It’s the best Greek food you will get in New York,” I tell her, nodding at the waiter who comes back and fills our glasses with water. “I mean, besides my yaya,” I say of my grandmother.

“Really? Now I’m excited. When we visited Santorini last summer, it was the best food I have ever eaten,” she says, looking back down at menu. We listen to him talk about the special, but my eyes are on her as she takes it in and smiles.

“Start with some tzatziki, some tarmosalata, and melitzansalata,” I tell the waiter who just nods his head. “Some white wine and a bottle of sparkling water please,” I tell him, and he walks away. “So, tell me, Vivienne,” I say. She mimics my pose, leaning back in her chair.

“What do you want to know, Mark?” Her face gives away nothing.

“Two years ago, you said you were going to call me,” I say to her with a smirk. “I haven’t changed my number.”

“Two years ago, you told me to give you a call when I was ready,” she says. Sitting back up now, she puts her elbows on the table and folds her hands together. “I was making you sweat it out.” Her sly smile comes out.

I laugh now. “Is that so?” Leaning forward, I put my elbows on the table, too.

“What is the saying that Americans say …?” She stops talking when the waiter comes back and pours her a glass of white wine. After tasting it, she gives him a nod. “Good things come to those who wait.”

I nod, grabbing the glass of water in front of me. “They also say you catch more flies with honey.” I wink at her.

“The only thing I know about honey is that it takes at least three showers to wash it completely off.” Now she winks at me. “But I do have one question.”

“I’m an open book,” I tell her, and she throws her head back and laughs as I take another sip of water. My throat and mouth are becoming dry.