‘How are you fitting all this in your suitcase?’ he asks sceptically. ‘It barely zips as it is with you sitting on it and you’re already using the extended setting.’
‘I’ll pack more strategically.’ I wave him off. ‘Or I’ll borrow space from you, I don’t know. I can’t go to the opera in my Converse. They’re already drastically overworn.’
I thought I planned my shoes for the trip so well – one pair of sandals, one pair of trainers and one ‘formal shoe’. I guess, in theory, I should have picked a more versatile formal shoe than the thigh-high boots I’ve only broken out twice. Between the amount of packing space that they take up and the fact that I only have two skirts that they make sense with, they’ve been more of a burden than a blessing every step of the way.
I scurry back into the cubicle and reluctantly peel the dress off, before returning the duds and taking my final choice to the counter. By lunchtime we’ve got the dress, some brand-new, closed-toe black heels and a cute deep-red clutch I found on sale. I relish in my purchases over a beefy mozzarella, tomato and olive sandwich in the most decadent café I’ve ever seen in my life.
Noah made us walk thirty minutes to a very specific café before we could sit down for lunch. I tried to pull him into a variety of places on the way, but he stood firm and never budged. From the moment we entered I understood why, but I didn’t dare tell him that out loud. Café Central, one of Vienna’s oldest cafés, is a vast, sweeping room of stone pillars, gold accents and plush furnishings.
‘Oh, by the way, I may not be in tonight when you get back from the opera,’ Noah says.
He cuts into his schnitzel, spearing another piece on his fork and chewing in delight when it reaches his mouth. I raise an eyebrow at him.
‘Hot date?’ I ask.
He wiggles his eyebrows back. ‘Kind of, actually. I’m going to a singles mixer – a bar crawl. Watching you really go for Johann last night on your own... I thought I’d take a leaf out of your book and be more proactive.’
I nod in approval, ignoring the flurry of emotions that hit me like a truck all at once. I am happy for him, of course. I want himto be happy and fulfilled, and not just sitting around waiting for me to come home from my date. But I feel that green monster creeping. My mouth grows sour at the thought of him out there, mixing with singles without me.
‘When did you sign up to this?’ I ask, feigning enthusiasm.
‘Last night, actually. Did some scrolling in bed when we got home and was served an ad for it. They know their target audience well.’ He smirks, before stabbing a potato with his fork.
I am going on a date.I have no business feeling any type of way when I’m doing the same thing.
‘Oh, wow.’ The faux happiness feels like venom on my tongue. ‘And you’re sure it’s a legit event? A random ad doesn’t seem like the most credible source.’
He pauses his meal to look me over in confusion. I hold my breath to keep my face from revealing something it shouldn’t.
‘Is there a reason you don’t want me to go?’ he asks slowly.
I emit a shaky exhale, shaking my head in the process. ‘Of course not!’ I say, lying, and scrape for some sort of reason. ‘I just don’t want you to get scammed.’
His gaze softens to something that, if I’m not mistaken, vaguely resembles disappointment. But it only flits across his features for a second at most, before he shakes it off.
‘It’s cute that you’re worried about my safety,’ he says. ‘But don’t worry, it took me through to a totally legitimate ticket app. One I already had downloaded, actually, so there’s very little potential for things to go sideways.’
I muddle through the rest of lunch throwing topics and stories at him, but I can’t get his evening plans off my mind. I had to get away asap so the second we got to our apartment, I mumbled something about deadlines, grabbed my laptop and fled for the rest of the day. I couldn’t finish anything. Every time I tried, my mind kept generating images of Noah at the bar surrounded by women.
In the end I had to give up. I silently crept back to our place, treated myself to a long, hot shower and took my sweet time getting ready. It paid off. Johann’s jaw dropped the second his chauffeur let me out of the car he sent to collect me.
‘Du bist wunderschön,’he says, kissing my hand. ‘You’re beautiful. Magnificent.’
He looks so dashing in his perfectly tailored three-piece suit. It’s almost enough to make me forget about Noah and forget about my awkward confession on the train.Almost.I cross my fingers that time makes it easier.
‘You don’t look too bad yourself,’ I reply.
He takes my arm and escorts us past the queue of ticket holders, most of whom look enraged as he brings us straight to the door and is welcomed warmly by the ushers with no hesitation. I look to him for an explanation and he beams back at me proudly.
‘My family pumps a lot of money into this place. They’re very respectful of that here.’
‘Wow, I feel like I’m with Vienna State Opera house royalty,’ I say teasingly.
He throws his head back and laughs. ‘You’re socolourful.’
My mouth falls open as we walk inside. The grandeur of the building is almost too much to take in on this singular evening. My eyes dart from the grand staircases to the engraving on the walls, the metallic finishings and the marbled flooring. Even the light fixtures scream opulence; I’m sure that I’d cry if I even dared to look up the prices.
He whisks me up the central staircase, down the hallway, past the bar and into a side door away from the bustling crowd. The pre-show chatter muffles instantly as the door closes behind us and I take in the new red velvet flooring and walls.
