“Good.”
Then he pointed toward our open suitcase.
“Now, very important question.”
“What?”
“Do we need three jackets for Greece?”
I laughed.
“Daniel, you’ve packed six pairs of shoes.”
He looked offended.
“That’s different.”
For a moment, we were simply two newlyweds trying to fit twelve days of clothing into two suitcases.
And I loved that moment more than I could explain.
***
We flew to Greece on Monday.
No one appeared at the airport to stop us.
No airline representative told us our reservations had been changed.
No hotel informed us that Khloe had somehow become the rightful guest.
Our tickets were valid.
Our passports were ready.
Our luggage made it onto the plane.
And when the aircraft lifted off, Daniel reached across the armrest and took my hand.
“Still married?” he asked.
I smiled.
“Still married.”
“Excellent.”
He settled back in his seat.
“Then I think we should celebrate by sleeping for several hours.”
I laughed.
The first two days were spent in Athens.
We visited the Acropolis.
Walked through narrow streets.
