The Future In Bloom
Country: The Netherlands
City: Amsterdam
Alvara
Amsterdam felt different the moment we stepped off the plane, lighter, somehow.
Open skies stretched wide above the canals, which shimmered under the pale afternoon light.
Bicycles zipped everywhere, and tulips...
God, the tulips.
Even in the city, pops of color spilled from window boxes and market stalls like the whole place had decided spring couldn't wait.
On our second morning, we took a train out of the city.
Grayson sat across from me in his dark coat, looking unfairly hot while I rested my head against the window, watching the countryside blur by in soft greens and early blooms.
He caught me smiling to myself.
"You look happy," he said quietly, his voice carrying that gentle warmth it always got when it was just us.
I turned to him. "I am happy."
He reached over and laced his fingers with mine, thumb brushing slow circles over my knuckles.
It was such a small thing, but it grounded me every time.
The tulip fields outside the city were even better than in the pictures.
Endless rows of color under a vast sky: pinks, golds, whites, deep crimsons, swaying gently in the breeze like waves.
I wandered ahead along one of the paths between the flowers, the cool air nipping at my cheeks.
Grayson followed, carrying my coat like I might forget how to dress myself on vacation.
I glanced back, laughing.
"You know I'm fully capable of holding my own coat, right?"
"I know you prioritize looking incredible over staying warm," he said, catching up to me with that easy stride of his. "Fashion over practicality."
"That's because I'm a designer" I stopped and turned fully toward him.
He reached me in two steps, one arm sliding around my waist, pulling me close.
"You look beautiful," he murmured, eyes tracing my face like he was memorizing it all over again.
I smiled before I could stop myself. "You say that every day."
"Because it's true every day." His voice was low.
I stared at him for a beat, then reached up to kiss him before he could say anything else that might undo me completely.
He laughed softly against my mouth, the sound warm and rumbling through his chest, his free hand coming up to cup the back of my neck.
We spent a while out there, walking slowly, stopping whenever something caught our eye.
He'd pull me in for quick kisses between the rows, or drape his arm around my shoulders when the wind picked up.
It felt simple and real.
We were just two people in love, stealing time before the world pulled us back.
That night, rain pattered softly against the hotel windows while the city glowed golden outside.
I stood near the balcony doors in one of Grayson's shirts, the fabric soft and familiar against my skin, watching the lights reflect on the canal below.
The room felt lived-in already, our bags half-unpacked, his watch on the nightstand, my tea cup from earlier still sitting on the table.
Comfortable in that intimate way spaces get when you've spent days wrapped up in each other.
I heard him before I felt him, bare feet on the floor, the faint rustle of his clothes.
Then his arms wrapped around my waist from behind, chin resting on my shoulder.
His hair was still damp from the shower, and he smelled like the hotel soap mixed with that warm cedar scent that was purely him.
"You disappeared on me," he murmured, pressing a kiss just below my ear.
"I was thinking."
"Dangerous habit." His tone was teasing, but his hold tightened a fraction, protective.
I smiled and leaned back into him. "You only say that because you know my thoughts usually turn into projects."
"Empires," he corrected softly, his hands sliding under the hem of the shirt to rest warm against my stomach. "But tonight, I'm claiming all your thoughts."
I turned in his arms to face him.
He looked beautiful in the low light, sleeves pushed up, barefoot, eyes steady on mine.
"I was thinking about how real this feels," I said quietly. "Us. The wedding. Everything we're building."
His brow furrowed slightly, "Tell me."
I rested my hands on his chest.
"I spent so long just surviving. Part of me still waits for the other shoe to drop sometimes. But here... with you... it doesn't feel that way."
His hand moved slowly up my back, soothing.
"Nothing terrible is happening tonight," he whispered. "Or any night, if I can help it."
I looked up at him. "No. It isn't."
He kissed me then, slow and deep, patient, like he was pouring safety into every touch.
His fingers traced gentle patterns along my spine while I curled mine into his shirt, pulling him closer.
We stayed like that for a long time, kissing and swaying slightly by the window, the rain a soft backdrop. When we finally broke apart, he pressed his forehead to mine, breathing me in.
My phone buzzed on the bed later, pulling us out of the quiet.
Isabella.
I answered on speaker while Grayson tugged me back against his chest on the couch, his arms looped loosely around me.
"You two better not be ignoring us completely," Isabella said, laughing in her voice.
"Vivienne's been sending me photos of the table settings all day. The ivory linens with the gold accents? Stunning. But the florist wants final confirmation on the centerpieces, more tulips to match your trip, or stick with the cherry blossoms from Kyoto?"
Grayson chuckled, his breath warm against my neck.
"Tulips," he suggested, kissing my shoulder.
"Invitations are printed and look incredible. The calligrapher nailed the script. And the string quartet is confirmed for the ceremony, intimate, just like you wanted. But the menu tasting... any last changes before we lock it in? Vivienne has the slot ready when you're back."
We tossed ideas back and forth, adding a few Dutch-inspired touches for fun, confirming the orchestra for the reception, while Grayson played with the ends of my hair, dropping occasional kisses along my collarbone that made it hard to focus.
By the end of the call, I was laughing, tucked fully into his side.
"They're turning our wedding into a full production," I said, setting the phone aside.
He smiled, pulling me closer. "I don't care what they do. As long as I get to marry you at the end of it."
The next couple of days melted together in the best way.
Lazy mornings with his legs tangled in mine under the sheets as always, room service breakfasts where he stole bites from my plate even after ordering his own.
Wandering along the canals hand in hand, stopping in cozy cafés, him wrapping his scarf around me when the wind shifted.
Another quick call from Vivienne while we were curled up in bed one afternoon, he answered with one hand resting warm on my thigh as we approved a few final details.
As the rain eased on our last evening in Amsterdam, we packed lightly by the window, the city lights twinkling below.
Grayson folded one of my sweaters with more care than necessary, glancing over at me with that quiet smile.
Morocco was next, and I could already feel the pull of another new place waiting, but for now, we lingered here a little longer, stealing one more soft kiss before closing the suitcase.