34. Logan
34
LOGAN
The private tour of the hotel is captivating. The guide shares so much information about the history of the property and the unique architectural features, like a well dating back to the sixteenth century and stunning stained-glass windows.
The tour guide ambles ahead and turns the corner. Before Daphne can follow, I pull her against me and press my lips to hers, this hallway the spotlight for our love story, with the dappled winter sunlight coming through the leaded windows.
“We could spend a month here taking tours and never be bored. I love doing things like this with you.” I rub my nose against hers. “Enjoying our nerdy hobbies. Having fun.”
Being lovers is wonderful, but first and foremost, she’s my best friend, and I’ve missed being with her like this. As much as I’d love to spend a month here with her, I’m also eager to go home. I’m ready to start our life together and implement the ideas I have for my career. But she’s so excited, loving every minute of our adventure. I don’t know how to bring up changing our plans and flying home early. This is her first trip. I don’t want to cheat her out of the experience.
“If we buy things at the markets,” Daphne says as we approach the first Christmas Market, “how are we getting them home?”
She swings our clasped hands back and forth while we walk. It’s adorable. Liam would tease me for being a sappy wuss, but I don’t care. There will come a day when he falls in love and will do sappy, wussy things, and I’ll be happy for him. I’ll also rag on him because that’s what we do, but I’ll still be happy for him.
Squeezing her hand, I swing along with her. “I guess it depends how much we buy. The easiest thing to do would be to pack things in our bags. We can move things around to make room. Or we could buy a bag and check it if necessary. You had the carry-on, so another bag isn’t a big deal. We’ll figure it out.”
“Cool. I want to pick up something for Mallory as a souvenir and then something else for her Christmas gift. Maybe we can find Christmas presents for your family?”
She gasps.
We’ve hit our first glimpse of the Place Gutenberg market, and she’s all wide eyes and open mouth.
I smile. Christmas markets here aren’t like the festivals and craft shows at home with the rows of white pop-up tents. Here, vendors build wooden stalls and there are festive lights strung overhead. It’s magical. Fortunately, it’s not bitterly cold and uncomfortable to be outside, but it’s still cold enough that Daphne snuggles against my side for warmth. The day is overcast, so the lights are lit this afternoon.
“It’s like being in a Hallmark movie,” Daphne breathes. I bark out a laugh because that’s such a random thing to say, but it’s true.
“If this was a Hallmark movie, there would be a wise shopkeeper sharing the secret of Christmas with someone who lost sight of the true meaning of the holiday. There would be snowflakes. Oh, and a horse-drawn carriage ride.”
Laughing, Daphne rests her head against my arm before stretching to press a kiss on my cheek.
“And if it was a Howlbark movie, the horses would end up being shifters earning extra money to save their family’s farm.” She takes a deep breath and groans. “Let’s grab a snack. Everything smells so good!”
She leads me to a stall full of baked goods where we decide to get one pretzel topped with chocolate and a second more traditional savory version with salt and share both. We’ll stop for dinner on the way back to the hotel, so the pretzels—they call them bretzels here, but it’s a pretzel as far as we’re concerned—are a nice snack to hold the worst of our hunger at bay.
Daphne moans when she takes a bite of the salted pretzel. “Oh my gosh. This is so good.”
I’ve heard that moan several times this weekend, and my cock doesn’t care that it’s in a different context. He still stirs in interest. How he wasn’t hard every time he was within six feet of Daphne through the years, I don’t know. Not that he had much of an opportunity. It’s part of the reason I traveled so much. It was pure torture to be near Daphne when I thought I couldn’t be with her the way I longed to be. Now that she’s mine, I don’t plan on traveling as much, especially if she can’t come with me.
As we wander the assorted markets, I get great shots of the stalls and the decorations. It’s merely a coincidence that Daphne is often in the frame.
“Why do you keep taking pictures of me? There are all these wonderful things here. You don’t need to be taking pictures of me.”
Oops.
“Well, I was going through my portfolio, I was surprised to see how few pictures of you I had. Of course, most of my photos are from my travels, but I realized that when I’m home, I rarely have my camera in hand. I spend my time with you doing things and not looking at them through a lens.”
We browse through the stalls and select a bunch of items to give as gifts for Christmas. We find earrings for the ladies in my family and Mallory. And while Daphne hovers around another stall considering mugs for the guys, I find a pair of heart-shaped amber earrings and buy them. The shade reminds me of the color of Daphne’s eyes after we’ve made love, and I want her to have them. As a souvenir for Mallory, we select a figurine of a timber-trimmed building like the ones surrounding us. You put a small candle or bulb inside to illuminate it. It’s neat and reminds me of something.
“Are these the right scale for the Christmas village you have?” I ask. “Or are they too small?” I haven’t seen the display in years because I haven’t been home at Christmas since we graduated college. I don’t remember how big the ceramic houses are that Daphne and her gran used to set up in the bay window as a charming holiday decoration.
Tilting her head to consider them, Daphne answers, “I think they’re too small. To be honest, I haven’t seen them in years, so I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you haven’t seen them in years? Where are they?” I’m dreading the answer I think I’m going to get.
“Packed away.” She shrugs. “I haven’t decorated in years. There didn’t seem to be a point when I’m the only one seeing them.” She picks up a building. It’s a church. She examines it for a moment and puts it back on the display. “They decorate the office and the lobby at work, and Mallory has a little tree for our section, so I get to enjoy decorations without having to do any of the work.”
Luc recommended that we take shopping bags to carry our purchases, and I’m grateful. I feel like we’ve bought out the markets between the mugs, ornaments, jewelry, and the house for Mallory. I grab the card from the stall with the houses. I want to see if I can purchase a bunch of them and have them shipped to us as a surprise for Daph.
We decide to take our loot back to the hotel before having dinner. I’m determined to have something other than room service sandwiches tonight.
“That’s cheating!” Daphne cries when I give our bags and a hefty tip to a valet to take them to our room.
“No, it’s being strategic,” I reply. “If we’re going to the pub for dinner, we need to do that before we’re in the room.” I wink. “We can stop by the pharmacy on the way back and pick up anything we need.”
Daphne peers at me with an excited expression. “Like candy bars?” With a sheepish expression, she admits, “Even though this is France and there are all these fancy things, I really want to try some of the weird, mass-produced, buy-it-off-the-shelf candy.” This is my girl—offer her lobsters and filet mignon, and she’s going to crave a cheeseburger. I love her.
Laughing, I admit, “I was planning on buying more condoms, but if candy bars are what make you happy, we’ll get them too.”
We hold hands as we walk through the early evening. This is our first time being out in Strasbourg after dark. Previously, by the time darkness fell, we’d locked ourselves in our room, enjoying each other’s bodies until we fell asleep, sated.
Strolling the historic streets under the cover of night with Daphne is romantic, and I feel fanciful imagining how many other lovers have walked these same streets through the ages. That’s one thing I love most about Europe, the sense of history. Of course, other places throughout the world have places with buildings and towns older than these French streets, but they don’t resonate with me the same way these old European cities do. I love the cobblestones and narrow roadways, timber beams, and thatched roofs. It all tells a story I’m eager to hear.
The pub is busier than it was the first time we dined here, but we manage to get a table. The TVs are on, with one screen showing a soccer match and another showing rugby. The rugby match isn’t featuring teams we follow, so we don’t worry about being able to see the screen, but we do glance at it when the patrons groan or cheer depending on the on-field action.
We debate whether to get the stew we loved before or something else from the menu. There are interesting burgers we’d like to try. It’s ridiculous to travel to these locales with incredible local cuisine and then get a cheeseburger, but you can learn a lot by seeing how a place does a cheeseburger. They don’t always use beef, for example, and they base the rolls on the common bread of the area. The toppings can be extravagant, like foie gras or unusual cheeses, and the portion sizes are often a surprise. In the US, we’re used to big burgers that are getting larger with a mountain of fries on the side. In other places, the burgers are smaller and come with a small hill of fries, but the flavors are so incredible you don’t even care that you’re eating less because it’s so satisfying. We could probably do a global burger tour documenting different burgers worldwide. In the end, we decide to do the stew again because it was so good.
After our glasses of red wine arrive, we chat about the Christmas markets and how beautiful the city is at night.
Daphne is fidgety. I reach across and cover her tapping fingers with my hand. “Daph, what’s up?”
I can see her weighing her words before she speaks. “I love Strasbourg and being here with you.”
I nod, half afraid of what’s going to come next. Has she changed her mind about being together after having a taste of what it could be like? Is she going to say she wants to move here? I’d be okay with that, but I can’t imagine it being something Daphne wants.
“How upset would you be if we tried to switch our tickets and fly home tomorrow night or Wednesday night so we can have Thanksgiving with your parents?” She appears apprehensive, and while I’m surprised she wants to cut the trip short, I’m touched she wants to spend the holiday with my family.
“Why would I be upset?”
“You plan everything out and get upset when your plan changes,” she says.
“Yeah, I’m realizing this unfortunate trait of mine. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be pushy or self-centered. I’m used to only focusing on myself and only being concerned with what I want.” I don’t mean to be controlling. It’s the last thing I want. It makes me feel sick I’ve unintentionally been that way with Daphne, and I’m determined to change.
“You try to hide it, and I’m not sure you’re even aware of it, but you have a plan, and that’s the way it is.”
“I honestly wasn’t aware of it. Everyone always lets me get away with it. Now that I know, I’ll work on changing. I trust you’ll tell me if I fall back on old habits?”
“Oh, I will,” she assures me.
With a sheepish smile, I admit, “I was trying to figure out a way I could ask you about going home for Thanksgiving. I don’t want to cut your trip short now that you’re finally here, especially since you haven’t seen much outside of our room.”
Her blushing giggle causes my heart to stutter.
I continue, “I promise we can come back and explore more. I realized I missed home and want to spend our first holiday together as a couple with our family, and they are our family. You’re one of us. You aren’t alone. You’re never going to be alone.”
I wish I was a painter so I could capture the glowing smile that spreads across her face at my statement on canvas. I’m not, so it will just have to live as a memory tattooed on my heart. Daphne leans across the table and the bustle of the pub fades away as she places a fun kiss on the tip of my nose. As she settles back in her seat, her fingers lace with mine, just like our lives are entwining. “I know.”
And I know that, New Jersey or France, bar grub or fine dining, we will always be together. Forever.