Tori
Chapter 5
When I dragged my eyes open the next morning, Stefan was already dressed.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” he told me coolly. “But our private jet is waiting. They’ll serve us breakfast on board. Hope you slept well.”
“Yes. Thank you. I’ll be quick,” I said, stumbling to my feet.
We were leaving for our honeymoon, so I took a lightning-quick rinse in the shower, changed into leggings and a silk blouse, and then repacked the few belongings I’d used.
I hadn’t actually slept much at all. Instead I’d tossed and turned all night, wondering if I had done something wrong, second guessing myself and worrying that I should have tried harder to wake Stefan up when I was wearing the lingerie.
The garment in question was currently shoved at the bottom of my carry-on bag. Surely I’d have another chance to wear it in Vienna. At this point, I was less scared about the experience and more eager to just have it over with.
The private jet was just as luxurious as the hotel had been, with spacious leather seats and fabric curtains in the windows, but Stefan barely seemed to notice as he handed the flight crew our bags and led me to the back of the plane where a meal was laid out for us.
There was actual silverware on the tablecloth and the food rivaled some of my father’s favorite places in Springfield. We ate flaky croissants, honeydew melon and cantaloupe, herbed omelets and smoked salmon. There was even a full wine list.
I tried to make conversation a few times, but if I was hoping to engage him with my repartee, I was sorely disappointed. I could barely get a monosyllabic response to my questions.
I couldn’t understand where I’d gone wrong. Was he angry about last night? He was the one who’d fallen asleep! Even now, as we finished eating and cleaned our hands with hot towels the flight attendant had brought, his gaze remained elsewhere—glued to his phone.
“Stefan?”
“Hmm.”
“I know you’ve got a lot going on with your new job and everything, but I—did I do something wrong? I feel like we’ve barely said a word to each other since yesterday.”
He looked up, but the usual warmth I felt under his gaze was nowhere to be found.
“You’re fine,” he said. “I have work to do.” And then he got up and went back to his seat.
As I sat there by myself, I couldn’t help feeling let down. This was our honeymoon. The first day of the rest of our lives together, and we were heading off on a tour of Europe to some of the most romantic places in the world. I understood that our marriage was more of a business deal than a love match, but why had Stefan even bothered taking this trip if he had zero interest in paying attention to me?
I had to remind myself that this was part of the gig. That all I had to do was be polite and smile at my husband when he took a moment to glance up from his work. I had seen Michelle do this exact thing for most of my life. That was just the price you paid when you married someone important.
And maybe he was just distracted with something big at KZM. Maybe he was even trying to get everything out of the way now, so he could focus on the honeymoon when we arrived.
It was a nine hour flight, non-stop, but since I hadn’t slept the night before I took advantage of the fold-out bed that the crew had set up in the back of the plane. The sheets were nicer than the ones I had back home. I crawled under the covers, immediately exhausted. When a crew member woke me up, we were making our final descent into Vienna. Stefan’s side of the bed had remained untouched.
As we stepped off the plane, we were greeted by a smiling woman in a navy skirt suit and a red and white striped neck scarf, to match the Austrian flag.
“Welcome to Vienna, Mr. and Mrs. Zoric. I have your itinerary all planned out.”
We were going on a guided tour of the city, and I was thrilled. All the traveling I’d ever done had been with my father, accompanying him for work, mostly in the U.S. We’d been to Europe once, but most of the trip had been spent at a conference and I hadn’t been allowed to explore by myself, so I mostly saw the inside of our hotel.
This was my chance to see the world.
“The ferris wheel you see is the Riesenrad, which means ‘giant wheel.’ It stands at just under sixty-five meters tall and was constructed in 1897…”
As I oohed and ahhed over each of the sights described by our host in her heavily-accented English, Stefan hunched over his laptop in the backseat of the private car. No doubt he had been to Vienna dozens of times and would rather be left alone to work, so I was touched that he was taking this tour with me. Luckily, he was even handsome when he scowled.
When we passed the Karlskirche church, a baroque confection of creamy pillars with a central dome the color of a robin’s egg, I said, “The dome is incredible. I’ve never seen that shade of turquoise.”
“It’s verdigris on the copper,” Stefan said, without even looking up.
“Well, I love it,” I said. “It’s so vivid.”
