Rosa ambushed me with it. “You need company, Robert. Not just hikes and cooking disasters.”
I tried dodging, but she wasn’t having it. Next thing, I’m sitting in a café in Órgiva, waiting for a blind date. Rosa’s doing. I checked my watch, tugged at my sleeve. This was either going to be a laugh or a disaster. Maybe both.
Then, the door swung open.
Carmen walked in like she owned the place. Not in an arrogant way—just like she’d done it a thousand times before. Dark hair, just past her shoulders, confident but not forced. She scanned the room, caught my eye, and smiled. Not hesitant. Not awkward. Just… warm.
“Robert?” she asked, walking over.
“That’s me,” I said, standing. “Carmen?”
She nodded. “Rosa’s told me all about you. I feel like I’m meeting a local celebrity.”
I laughed. “Celebrity? No chance. Just a bloke who asks too many cooking questions.”
“She did mention that.” Carmen smirked, sitting down. “But she also said you’re stubborn. Won’t quit once you start something.”
The waiter slid two glasses of wine onto the table. Deep red, local, rough around the edges—like everything here.
“You drink red?” I asked.
“I drink this red,” she said, tapping the glass. “Good choice.”
I took a sip, let it settle. “So,” she said, leaning in. “What brought you to La Alpujarra?”
“The usual,” I said. “London was loud, life fell apart, I wanted out. Needed space.”
She nodded. “I get it. I left Granada for the same reason. Spent years bouncing around—Madrid, Italy, Lisbon—but this place pulls you back.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I get that now.”
We talked. About village quirks, hiking routes, missing things from the city you never thought you would. It was easy. A little too easy. Then, at some point, she tilted her head.
“You staying?” she asked.
I hesitated. “I don’t know yet. Feels like home in a way London never did, but it’s still new.”
She studied me. “It’s not always easy here. It looks peaceful, but it’s not for everyone.”
“I see that,” I said. “But maybe the hard bits make it worth it.”
A slow smile. “Good answer. Maybe Rosa was right about you.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
The café was emptying. Chairs scraping. Staff stacking glasses. We stepped outside. The air was warm, thick with that village stillness.
“Thanks for this,” I said. “For letting Rosa set you up.”
She grinned. “Thank Rosa. But yeah… this was good.”
“More than good,” I said. “I’d like to do it again.”
She paused, then nodded. “I think I’d like that too.”
She walked one way. I walked the other. But something had changed. Maybe Rosa knew me better than I thought. Maybe La Alpujarra wasn’t finished surprising me yet.