There aren’t many people out as we drive. At this time of morning, I would have expected the streets to be buzzing with people going to work, but there’s just a small handful of locals milling about. It’s nice to drive in a city that doesn’t feel overcrowded. Within a few minutes, I find a parking spot near one of the small cafés. It takes me a bit to figure out how to pay for the parking.
“Are you sure that’s right?” Harper says, looking over my shoulder.
We download an app to pay for the parking, which is easy enough to figure out, but according to the app, it’s free between the hours of six p.m. and nine a.m. Harper and I have both frequented cities enough to feel like we’re suddenly gettingaway with robbery. I suppose it’s hard to compare this city to anything in the US.
“I put in all the information correctly.” I shrug. “I guess parking in the city is going to be cheaper than we thought.”
Confident that parking is indeed free, we start walking until we find a place for breakfast. I let Harper lead the way. With the cold Icelandic air hitting her face now, she seems to have a little more pep in her step, especially since as we walk, we can see the massive glacier-coated mountains surrounding us on the outskirts of the city.
She’s tired, but the views around us light her up, keeping her feet moving forward until she steps into a small café. The name—like most Icelandic names—is so long that I don’t even bother trying to pronounce it in my head. I feel like that might be a pattern on this trip.
The hostess greets us, leads us to a small table in the corner, and hands us menus.
Harper looks hers over, trying to stifle a yawn. I’ve seen Harper tired over the years, but never quite like this. On the car ride, she re-braided her hair to make it look neat again, but there are dark circles under her eyes. Somehow, she’s still bright, but I can tell she’s fading.
“What’s the name of our hotel?” I ask. Harper is, of course, in charge of everything and said before that we can’t check into the hotel until later this afternoon, but I’m hoping if I call the place, they might make an exception.
“Hotel Vera,” she says a bit absentmindedly, turning over the menu again. “I’m going to go to the bathroom,” she says, and slips away.
I pull up the hotel’s website on my phone as she disappears around the corner, happy to see that we could walk to the hotel from here if we wanted to. I call the number listed.
“Hotel Vera, how may I help you?” A female voice on the other line answers on the first ring.
“Hi, we just landed from our flight, and I was wondering if it was possible to check in to our room early? I know check-in isn’t until later, but we desperately need to recover from that red-eye flight,” I laugh nervously. It feels like I’m giving too much information, but I’m hoping that even if it’s against hotel policy, she’ll take mercy on us if she hears our situation.
“I’m sorry, sir. Check-in isn’t until one p.m.”
I feel myself deflate a little. I’m not surprised, really. It was a long shot, but I had to try. I’m about to hang up, but then an idea pops into my head.
“Oh,” I say, giving a long, exasperated sigh. “Okay, I understand. We’re here on our honeymoon, and I was just really hoping I’d be able to let my wife get a nap in after the flight.”
I’m shocked by how easily the lie comes out. It’s mostly a lie, but it’s also a dream. Iwishwe were here on our honeymoon, but that dream feels bold and distant. And if Harper knew what I was saying? I fear she’d punch-buggy me silly and never let me live to hear the end of it.
The woman on the other end of the line pauses, considering my words.
Come on. Everyone gets extra perks on their honeymoon.
“What’s the name on the reservation?”
I smile. “Harper Evans.”
I hear typing on the other end of the phone and then a brief pause. I brace myself for rejection.
“Give us about an hour and the room will be ready for you.”
I give a sigh of relief. It’s barely nine a.m. and somehow, they’re letting us check into the hotel hours before we’re supposed to.
Honeymoon perks.
“Perfect, thank you so much.”
“Of course. Congratulations on the wedding. We’ll see you soon.”
The line goes quiet, and I put my phone down as Harper rounds the corner, coming back to the table. I decide to wait to tell her as a fun surprise that we can check in early. She’ll be pleased that she can have better sleep than whatever she managed when she was stuck between me and the Viking. I think she’ll be even more surprised to learn that we’re here on our honeymoon. That’s a secret I’d like to take to the grave.
Chapter 9
Harper
