Passport to Happiness. Carrie Stone

      I know his overzealousness is purely to make me feel better for my humiliating misunderstanding and I can’t help but be grateful, even if I am still dying a little inside. ‘I can always check it out another day…’ I offer up lightly, tailing off.

      ‘No, it’s settled. I’ll meet you outside the hotel at ten in the morning. And I don’t usually do this, you know. Mixing with the hotel clients, I mean.’ I notice how uncomfortable his expression suddenly is. ‘But, anyway. you seem a little…’ He pauses and looks at me awkwardly. ‘Well, you seem a little lonely. And I hope you don’t mind me saying that but don’t worry – we will have you smiling in no time. Leave it to me.’

      My cheeks burn, and I feel the tears instantly building behind my eyes. Mortified, I manage a wobbly nod as he squeezes my shoulder. God, what was I thinking inviting myself along to his day out! He clearly pities me. Miss Everly-no-mates.

      ‘OK, back to work for me.’

      With a weak smile I watch him disappear and am left wondering why the idea of being told I look lonely hurts so much. I know it’s mostly likely because I am lonely. He’s hit the nail on the head. But to invite myself along? Isn’t that more desperate than lonely…

      Sighing, I stare at my reflection in the shiny surface of the knife on the table beneath me and it makes wonder where the hell my knight in shining armour has gotten to. I realised shortly after Jay shacked up with Sarah that there must be another man out there meant for me … but shouldn’t he have been here by now? I can only assume he must be lost on his way somewhere. Knowing my luck, he probably broke down before he even started out. Still, I make a promise to myself that they’ll be no more tears on this holiday. Yes, less self-pity and more shopping, thank you very much.

      The food arrives, and I tuck into the scrumptious concoction. Fred, as he tells me to call him, returns to clear my now empty plate and places in front of me a hand-drawn map of nearby points of interest. I thank him again as I sign the bill and reconfirm the arrangement for tomorrow’s outing, silently musing that the men I seem to come across of late in the UK aren’t even half as considerate. Making my way back to my room, I grab my bag and a cardigan before heading back out of the hotel onto the backstreets of Zurich.

      It’s buzzing around me as I weave between throngs of locals and tourists alike, passing designer shop after shop with window displays that make me squeal inwardly with longing and blanch outwardly at the hefty price tags. I come to the very quick conclusion that everyone living here must be extremely wealthy. I dread to think of the living costs. By the time I reach a pedestrian and road bridge crossing the river, I feel as if I’ve been transported into a serene reality. The sunshine reflects off the shimmering, gently rippling water that flows beneath me, as buildings both colourful and stone-walled, medieval and modern, line the riverbank as far as my eye can see. I stand with my elbows resting on the bridge ledge, gazing out across the water as the heat of the sun prickles against my skin.

      ‘So beautiful.’ I muse at how such a short flight can bring me to a place so very different to that which I’d imagined. It’s so refined and steeped in history, yet magnificently chic at the same time. I’m already in awe of the vibe of the city – from the tram that runs through the main roads, to the cleanliness, to the lack of high-rise buildings, to the swarms of well-heeled people that flit around me. It feels much less rushed than the fast pace of London that I’m used to and more efficient.

      ‘It is.’

      Startled, I turn with a confused expression to come face to face with a man standing beside me. His tailored navy pinstripe suit and pink tie immediately make me think ‘banking.’ He has an air about him very similar to Jay and I shiver involuntarily.

      ‘I’m sorry, are you talking to me?’ Bewildered, I quickly scan behind me wondering if I’m mistaken but he grins and holds my confused stare. His dark, almost black eyes twinkle at me.

      ‘Yes, you said it’s so beautiful and I’m agreeing.’ He gestures to the view and turns, facing the water, his tall, muscular frame leaning itself against the bridge. ‘I come here sometimes after meetings.’

      I take in his cropped black hair and dark olive skin. He doesn’t scream typical ‘Swiss’ to me. ‘Are you from here then?’ I ask before I can stop myself, suddenly self-conscious of my appearance. It hits me that he’s rather handsome with his square stubbled jawline and long dark eyelashes. He has large, masculine hands that I can’t help but admire and as he turns to me with a puzzled expression, oozing a charm and rawness I know he isn’t aware of, I feel my face flush. Damn. This is the type of man I usually avoid like the plague. The dangerous type that’ll have my knickers off in a flash, never to be seen again.

      ‘No, I grew up in Morocco. My mother is Spanish, my father’s from Tangier. But I live in a nearby canton, Zug and work for an investment company.’

      Interesting. His ancestry explains his dark features. And I was almost on point with the job role.

      ‘And you? You’re here on vacation?’ His grin is subtle but the twinkle in his eye tells me all I need to know. He’s got me sussed out.

      ‘Yes, I’ve just arrived. Just a week’s holiday.’ I point across the water to where the river cruises are visible in the distance. ‘That’s where I’m headed now.’

      ‘Good choice. You’ll enjoy it. I’m Emir by the way.’ He holds out his hand to me and I notice the way his pink shirt strains across his taut chest with the gesture.

      ‘Everly,’ I reply, shaking it. ‘Any other tips on places I should check out?’ I’m feeling brazen and the fact he’s reached into his trouser pocket for a cigarette, assures me that he isn’t desperate to get away from me. Always a good sign. I watch as he lights up and inhales deeply, his face pensive.

      ‘How about dinner with me one night? I can show you around Zug. It’s pretty and there’s a great Italian that serves truffle pasta?’

      Just the thought of pasta has my mouth watering and it’s not like I’m going to turn down a suave, handsome man offering to take me out. I shrug flippantly. ‘Yes, why not? Sounds nice.’

      ‘Where are you staying? I’ll come and collect you after I finish work tomorrow.’

      ‘I’m at the Hotel Montana.’ I point in an easterly direction. ‘But I’m not free tomorrow – I already have a day trip planned.’ It doesn’t escape me that this startling situation of offers from two men in barely one afternoon is frankly, unheard of. Even if the Fred situation was mainly of my doing. Still, I usually go months without a whiff of interest but here I am; it’s nothing short of a miracle and my stomach does an excited flip.

      ‘No problem. Let’s do the following night. I think I know where your hotel is but if not, I’ll find it. So, I’ll collect you from there at six?’

      I grin, unable to hide my happiness as I realise that my first few hours on this trip have already gained me more impromptu adventure than I’ve had in the last month. ‘Perfect.’

      He dots out his cigarette. ‘I need to get back to work. Enjoy your river cruise, Everly. Pretty name by the way.’

      ‘Thanks. See you on Thursday.’ I brush a stand of hair away from my mouth and watch as he re-adjusts his blazer.

      ‘Adieu.’ And with a cheeky smile, he walks away with a swagger.

      I turn back towards the river and sigh contently. Fine, he’s not marriage material – his charming, suave demeanour has told me everything it needed to – and I know I’d sworn off men – especially after Florian – but this is a holiday and soon my reality will be creeping back upon me. So why not make the most of it?

      I re-adjust my bag and put on my sunglasses. I’m determined to make this trip the start of something new – a new me that is open to saying yes to adventure and finding ways to shift the doldrums. And it seems that the universe is already giving me a helping hand.