A Proposal Worth Millions

That date-like feeling returned as they walked along the seafront towards a small island, linked to the mainland by a walkway. Dylan resisted the urge to take her arm or hold her hand, but the fact it even needed to be resisted unsettled him. Not just because this was Sadie but because he’d never really thought of himself as a hand-holding-in-the-sunshine kind of guy. He tended to work better after dark.

Sadie turned and led him along the walkway leading out into the sea towards the island, and Dylan distracted himself by reading the signs of fishing tours on offer and checking out the tourist trap stalls set up along the way, selling bracelets and temporary tattoos.

‘What is this place?’ he asked, nodding to the island up ahead. Covered with trees, it appeared to have a fortified wall running around it and plenty of people wandering the path along the edge of the island.

‘Pigeon Island,’ Sadie replied promptly. ‘You see over there, above the trees? That’s the fortress of Kuşadasi—built in the thirteenth century. It was there to protect the Ottoman Empire from pirates—including Barbarossa himself.’

‘I didn’t realise I was here for a history lesson, as well as a tourism one.’

‘There’s a lot of history here,’ Sadie pointed out. ‘And a lot of tourism to be had from history. Wait until you see the caravanserai.’

‘I look forward to it.’ History wasn’t really his thing, but Sadie seemed so excited about taking him there he was hardly going to mention it. Maybe it would be more interesting than he thought, looking back instead of forward for once.

‘There’s a seafood restaurant and café and stuff inside,’ Sadie said, as they reached the path around the island, ‘although I thought we’d head back into town for lunch. But I wanted you to see this first.’

She stopped, staring back the way they had come, and Dylan found himself copying her. He had to admit, Kuşadasi from this angle was quite a sight, with its busy harbour and seafront. He could see what Adem had loved about the place.

‘Does Turkey feel like home now?’ he asked, watching Sadie as she soaked up the view.

She turned to him, surprised eyebrows raised. ‘I suppose. I mean, we’ve been here for a few years now. We’re pretty settled. I can get by with the language—although Finn’s better at it than me.’

‘That’s not the same as home.’ At least, from what little Dylan knew about it.

‘Well, no. But, then, I never really expected that anywhere would be home again after Adem.’

One quiet admission, and the whole mood changed. He was wrong, Dylan realised, and had been all along. This was nothing like a date at all.

He looked away, down at the water, and tried to imagine what kept her there in Kuşadasi. It couldn’t just be history and sheer stubbornness, could it? Especially given how strange and lonely it must be for her there every day in Adem’s place, without him beside her.

She shook off the mood, her hair swinging from side to side as she did so, and smiled up at him. ‘What about you? Where’s home for you these days? Neal says you’re operating mostly out of Sydney?’ Changing the subject. Smart woman.

‘Mostly, yeah. My mum left Britain and moved back home to Australia when she remarried again, and my sister is out there too now, so it makes sense.’ And this time, finally, he had faith that they might both stay there now they’d each found some happiness in their lives. He felt lighter, just knowing they were settled.

‘Do you see them often?’ Sadie asked.

Dylan shrugged. ‘It’s a big country. We catch up now and then.’

‘Between business trips.’ Was that accusation in her tone? Because he wasn’t going to feel bad for running a successful business, even if it meant always being ready to jump at a new opportunity and run with it—often in the opposite direction from his family.

‘Pretty much. Between the office in Sydney and the one in London, I probably spend more time in the air than in my apartments in either city.’

He’d meant it as a joke, but even as the words came out he realised he’d never thought of it like that before. All those years trying to get his family settled, and he’d never stopped to notice that he didn’t have the same grounding at all. He’d just assumed his business—solid, profitable and reliable—was enough to give that security. But in truth he was no more settled than Sadie was, in this country she’d never chosen for herself.

Maybe they were both drifting.

‘We’re both very lucky to live in such beautiful places, though,’ Sadie said.

He tried to return her smile. ‘Yes, I suppose we are. So, why don’t you show me some more of the beauty of this place?’

‘Okay.’ She stepped away, back towards the promenade to the mainland. ‘Let’s go and take in the town.’

* * *

Home.

Sadie considered Dylan’s question again as she led him into the town of Kuşadasi proper. She took him by the longer back route to give him a true feel for the place. In comfortable silence they walked through narrow cobbled streets filled with shops. Half their wares were hung outside—brightly coloured belly-dancing costumes and leather slippers butting up against shops selling highly patterned rugs, or with rails of scarves and baskets of soaps on tables in the street. The smell of cooking meat and other dishes filled the air as the local restaurants prepared for lunch, the scent familiar and warming to Sadie.

As they walked she could see Dylan taking everything in—reaching out to run his fingers over the walls, his eyes darting from one shop display to the next. Had she been so fascinated when she’d first visited? It seemed so long ago she could barely remember.

Would this place ever truly be home? Could it? Or would it always just be the place where she’d lost the love of her life?

When she thought of home she thought of her family—and so, by default, of the pretty English village where she’d grown up, just outside Oxford. She remembered playing in the woods with her sister Rachel, or taking walks on the weekend with their parents and stopping for lunch in a country pub. And she thought of later meeting Adem and his friends in Oxford, when she’d travelled in every day for her first proper job after training in a small, independent spa and beauty salon there. She thought of the first flat she and Adem had rented together in London, after they’d been married.

She didn’t think of the Azure. Not because she didn’t love it but because it seemed so alien to all those other things. Like a permanent working holiday.

She loved Turkey, Kuşadasi, the Azure. And maybe Dylan was right in an odd, roundabout way. If she wanted to stay there, she needed to find a way to make it feel like home.

They emerged from a side passage out onto the bigger main street, with larger stores and the occasional street vendor stall. Here, after the charm of the old town streets, Kuşadasi looked more modern, ready to compete in the world tourist market. It was important to show Dylan that they had both here.

Suddenly, Dylan stopped walking. ‘Hang on a minute.’ Turning, he walked back a few paces to a stall they’d just passed. Curious, Sadie followed—not close enough to hear his conversation with the stallholder but near enough to see what had caught his attention.

She rolled her eyes. A sign advertising ‘Genuine Fake Watches’. Of course. In some ways Dylan really was just like Adem—they had the same absurd sense of humour and the same reluctance to let a joke lie untold.

Still, she smiled to see that Dylan wasn’t pointing out the error to the stallholder, and instead seemed to be striking up a friendly conversation with him as he took a photo on his phone and examined the watches. Another way he was like her husband, she supposed—that same easy nature that made him friends everywhere he went. She’d never had that, really, and couldn’t help but envy it.

‘Enjoying yourself?’ she asked, as he returned.

Dylan grinned. ‘Immensely. What’s next?’

She’d planned to take him to the caravanserai—she just knew his magpie mind would love all the tiny shops and stalls there, too, and it was a huge tourist attraction with plenty of history. But it was getting late and her stomach rumbled, nudging her towards the perfect way to remember why she was so lucky to live in Kuşadasi—her favourite restaurant.

‘I think lunch,’ she said, watching as Dylan slipped his own no doubt authentic and ridiculously expensive watch into his pocket and replaced it with the genuine fake he had just bought.

‘Fantastic. I can show off my new toy.’ He shook his wrist and, despite herself, Sadie laughed, feeling perfectly at home for the first time in years.

* * *

From the way Sadie was greeted at the door of the restaurant with a hug from an enthusiastic waitress, Dylan assumed she was something of a regular. Despite the queue of people ahead of them, they were led directly to a table right in the centre of the glass-roofed portion of the restaurant, with vines growing overhead to dull the power of the sun as it shone down.