Rain Check?

After Shot: Honeymoon ~1~

"Think of one place you've always wanted to visit."

I lift my head from its spot on his bare chest, staring back into his sea of blue, still questioning how this is now my life. "But, there's so many. I'll never guess which one you chose."

His little smirk makes my heart race, "Just say one. Any one."

He'd somehow managed to get all of January off from any commitments outside of a couple of video interviews for ASP. My winter semester didn't start until February, and with it all being online, I could do it from wherever my husband was at the time.

And let's face it, I'm not about to leave his side.

While our start to wedded bliss has been spent in the comfort of Chris', sorry, our LA home for the last three days, he now tells me to choose from my ever growing list of places to visit in the world and that's where we'll spend our honeymoon. Oh, and we'll leave in twenty-four hours.

"But, how will we know what to pack?" I ask, starting to freak out a bit. "It's not like I have a closet full of items here yet. If I choose some place cold, I won't have the right coats. If I choose someplace warm, it's not like I packed a bathing suit-"

"Baby," he interrupts me, putting two fingers to my lips. "Pick. A. Place."

I pucker my lips to kiss his calloused fingers, earning me an eye roll as he knows I'm trying to change the subjects entirety. "Not until you choose," he tells me, shaking his head as he removes his hand. I replace it with a pout of my lower lip. "Woman, I swear. I will go stand on the other side of the room, away from you, until you choose."

I bite my lower lip, think that's not a bad idea. "I mean, you're naked so really it's a win-win situation for me." He chuckles back at me, annoyed at my antics. I sit up further, pulling one side of the sheets over my body, causing his side to drop lower on his hips. "It's a lot to consider. There's a lot of places I want to visit, but should probably hold off on until I have better use of my leg."

"Okay, so no where that you'd want to go hiking. And, even though I know you don't want to, we're taking the chair."

"But then that drops beaches because of lack of wheel chair access," my brow furrows deeply as my mind jumbles all of the possibilities together, having difficulty wading through them. My hands slap the mattress in front of me. "This is too difficult!"

"Think of some place that we can just relax and be with one another then. Don't worry about what you won't get to do. I promise you, I will take you back when you've built up the strength in your leg. If all we do is sit out on a deck at a beach, or curled up watching it snow by a fire, it's gonna be the best trip ever." There's such conviction in his voice that I'm close to begging him to be the one to make the final decision, but I know he's stubborn like myself and that'll never happen.

"Well," I start, thinking about what he just mentioned, "is there a way to do both?"

I watch the grin on his face grow as he nods. "Definitely. But, baby, you still have to choose."

I drop my face into the pillow, my whines coming out muffled.

Chris really wasn't kidding. Over the course of the next twenty four hours we packed what we could because in his words, "We can buy what we need when we get there," and then we were off.

The first leg of the trip would be spent in Switzerland. I debated with my choice, upset that I wouldn't be able to ski, only to have that feeling shot down by a husband who suggested dog sledding instead.

Yes, please.

We both take turns taking photos of one another with the dogs. They were truly mesmerizing, incredibly smart and beautiful creatures. Another once in a lifetime experience.

Chris had very sneakily made several different honeymoon reservations with the added confirmation that he'd be able to cancel any that I hadn't chosen. But I'd have never been able to guess the location he'd book in Switzerland.

The shock, and yet elation, of being brought to the Whitepod-Eco Luxury Hotel will be a moment I'll never forget. He'd chosen a suite for the occasion, one that had the most incredible view.

  Somehow, my dear husband, had managed to talk me into a wine tour.  I was never one for alcohol, but thought maybe it's something I could try given the nature of the trip. I listened intently to the instructions, and yet Chris still had to tell me the correct steps for a wine tasting. I had no idea that he'd snapped a photo as I took my first sip, my nose scrunched up at the bitter taste. He laughed as he suggested a sweeter one. 

  His idea of sweet does not match my own.

  What we did discover, only a mere hour later, is that I cannot hold any amount of alcohol  as he holds my hair back while my head hangs over the toilet.  "I'm so sorry, baby," he keeps telling me, over and over while swiping a cold rag across my forehead. 

  "It's alright. Just from now on, if you ever want to do a wine tasting, I'll stick with the cheese and crackers," I grimace, my stomach threatening a revolt again. "Can we compromise on that?"

  He chuckles, not at my discomfort but at his own words, "I promise to not suggest that you drink wine ever again."

  He tenderly lifts me from my spot on the floor, setting me back down softly on the bed. "Gum?" I ask, knowing that if I was to try and brush my teeth I'd vomit once more. He passes me a piece that I chew on for just a couple of minutes, enough to rid the taste of alcohol from my mouth. "Hold me?"

  Chris lays on his right side, an arm stretched out towards me. I settle chest to chest against him before I lift my right leg over his hip. My breathing starts to steady as I feel him place a gentle kiss on top of my head. "I love you, Demi."

  When I wake up the next morning I'm thankful to find that my stomach has settled. An attempt to snuggle in closer to Chris reveals an empty spot on his side of the bed. Sitting up a bit on my elbows I see him standing in front of the windows, his shirt still removed from sleeping, with a cup of coffee in his hand.

  I quietly slip my hand over to the table next to me, open my phone and take a photo.  I slide out of the bed, deciding to join him. I snake my left hand around his back, resting it on his chest. He hums in contentment, my hand rising with his chest. 

  "That ring really shines in the sunlight," he comments, causing me to peek around as well. 

  I'm loving the sight of my rings over his tattooed chest, causing me to snap up a photo. "And what are you going to do with that, Mrs. Evans?"

  "Oh, I've got big plans, Mr. Evans. Big plans."

  "Funny," he smirks, taking my hand in his and pulling me around causing my back to go against the window, "I think I've got some plans myself."

*Unedited

*There will be a second part!