“Hey, I’m not the one who doesn’t like poutine. You’re the sacrilegious person at the table.”
“Cheese shouldn’t squeak. That’s why I don’t like halloumi either.”
As we bicker about our food preferences, her fingers tangle with mine under the table.
We’re slammed into this nook of a bustling Basque restaurant. The energy’s alive. People are happy. There’s chaos brewing as tomorrow’s the day the Three Wise Men met up with Jesus—Epiphany—so families are here and kids are crying and giggling and everything in between.
And as I look around the restaurant, eating food that’s way out of my comfort zone, not only is this right where I want to be, but I can see my future.
It’s precarious, of course. Everything could change in a heartbeat.
But I see us sitting with our kids when we vacation here.
I can already tell Madrid’s in her blood, and not just because herabuelahailed from the city.
That it is, though, means it’s in mine too.
Which is probably why I do something dumb.
I see one ring of squid remaining in the dish and I pluck it right as she tries to fork it up. Before her mouth can even open to gasp at me in her outrage, I snag her hand and slide it over her ring finger.
Her eyes soften before she squeaks. “EWWWWW.” It tumbles into laughter though. “Zaaaa-ch, that’s so gross.”
I blow her a fishy-fingered kiss. “That’s what you get for bringing me to a romantic fish restaurant.”
Meal over, with Denny still giggling, I pay the bill and our fingers return to their earlier knot—after we’ve both thoroughly sanitized them. Upon leaving the restaurant, Denny finds a clothing store that she wants to peruse while I see a jeweler’s next door.
It’s busy thanks to the season, but right in the window, there’s something that catches my eye.
What can I say? The squid triggered a rash of impulsive thoughts…
By the time I’ve sneaked in and bought it, Denny’s beaming because she managed to get the shirt she wanted in her size.
The box burns a hole in my pocket, much as D’s burned a hole in my heart.
In a good way.
The sense of rightness doesn’t leave me as we scour the streets, braving the cold and the crowds as people do their last-minute shopping. Panicking as gifts aren’t miraculously popping up in front of them.
Honestly, I’m glad the holidays are over for us. Our first Christmas together… I only hope it’ll be the first of dozens.
When we stand in front of this weird little statue of a bear that’s famous for whatever reason, she peeps up at me and cups my cheek. “Thank you for making this special, Zach.”
I shake my head and press a soft peck to her lips. “It’ll always be special when we’re together, D. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
FORTY-EIGHT
FREYA
Freya: Hey, Denver. I’m sorry about what happened at school.
Freya: Sorrier still that it’s taken me so long to reach out.
Freya: It’s really fucking shitty what Derek Dyers did to you and I’m a bitch for not checking in with you sooner.
Freya: Anyway
*Freya sends picture*
