* * *
No matterwhich way the car turned, we were surrounded by gorgeous historic architecture. There was so much to take in, but I found it all wonderfully overwhelming. With each attraction we passed, I couldn’t help myself from exclaiming excitedly to Stefan.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” I asked him as the tour guide drove us past the Hofberg, Vienna’s most famous palace.
“Mmhmm,” Stefan murmured, his focus directed on an email he’d been typing. “You can take a tour of it later on the trip, if you’d like.”
“Would you like that?” I asked him, hoping to engage him in conversation.
“I’ve already seen it,” he told me.
Of course. “Is there anything here you haven’t seen? Maybe we could go there.”
“I’ve seen everything here,” he said, shrugging.
That thought made me sad. “Are you really so jaded that you can’t see how amazing this place is? There’s so much beauty all around us. What’s your favorite spot in the city?”
“I don’t have one.” He finally looked up at me, but I couldn’t read his expression. “Please, see the sights. Don’t let me stop you.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. No doubt he was purposely deflecting all attempts at conversation in the hope that I’d leave him alone to work. Unfortunately, he had married a Lindsey. We didn’t know how to quit.
Our tour continued, the car continuing along the streets of Vienna while I did my best to take it all in. One particular building, however, took my breath away.
“What is that place?” I asked our tour guide.
It was warm-colored stone, in an opulent Neo-Renaissance style, with statues of men on winged horses at the roof’s corners. A double row of open arches lined the front façade, and although the building was ornately detailed, it had a satisfying symmetry that spoke to me.
“Ah, the Vienna Staatsoper. The Opera House,” she said with a reverence that matched mine. “It iswunderschön, yes?”
Beautiful didn’t even begin to describe it. The Vienna Opera House was the grandest thing I’d seen all day. I could only imagine how it looked on the inside.
“Do they give tours?” I asked.
“Oh yes,” our tour guide said. “Every day from ten until four pm. I can drop you off?”
Stefan stopped her with a hand. “We don’t have time,” he said.
I slumped in my seat.
“Besides, the best way to see the Opera House is to go to an opera,” he said. “It’s one of my favorite things to do in Vienna.”
“So you do have favorites.” He didn’t smile. “Well, I’d love to see a Viennese opera. I’ve never even seen one at home.”
“Maybe on our next trip,” he said, his attention returning to his laptop. “We don’t have room in the schedule this time.”
“Do you have a favorite opera?” I asked.
“No,” he said.
“What about a favorite movie?” I tried again.
He glanced up. “Haven’t you ever heard the expression ‘curiosity killed the cat’?”
I gave him a shrug, feeling passive aggressive. He started back up with the typing.
“Favorite band—come on. Everybody loves music. Is it Meat Loaf?”
He let out a long-suffering sigh, but I didn’t miss the slight curve at the corner of his mouth. I knew I was annoying him, but he was also a little amused. I could get him to crack.
