Complicated

Chapter Forty Three: Barcelona

Love me tender,
Love me sweet,
Never let me go.
You have made my life complete,
And I love you so.

Norah Jones – Love Me Tender

Barcelona was hotter than Don had imagined. He was used to the heat and humidity back in New York, even though he cursed the summer months when he had to work. The caress of the sun was different here though, he could enjoy the weather as well as the beauty of this predominant city. Walking hand in hand down the cobbled streets with Grace as she pointed out the architecture was blissful. He hadn't felt this relaxed in a long time. He had forgotten what it was like to take a vacation outside the US.

The truth was you didn't see sights like the Barcelona FC Museum back in the states, despite the fact he wasn't an enthusiastic fan of soccer, the tour had been worth seeing. The dedication to the sport was immense and Don was left comparing New York's homage to their own sport against the magnificence of the beauteous stadium.

He had long lost track of the tours they had gone on over the past few days. He found he enjoyed surveying the impressive architecture as Grace led him with eager footsteps, explaining details on each individual site. He liked listening to the sound of her smoky dulcet voice as she talked even though the information fell on deaf ears. He was never bored by her statements, in truth he was happy to see her so animated about something outside of the crime lab.

Barcelona brought out a different side to his wife, one that he felt he didn't get to see often enough. In this city Grace's eyes shone with elation, her posture was confident and he could tell by the way she hummed under her breath as they walked that her spirit was serene and content.

Don had never seen her so carefree before. Back in New York the job weighted heavily upon both of their shoulders, they had a responsibility to protect and serve the city and it's people. Here there was nothing more to worry about than life's simple pleasures.

Don found himself entertained by Grace's change in style and demeanour upon setting foot in this country. At home his wife always wore trousers, she was practical and professional, however seeing her in flimsy summer dresses and barely there bikinis was the natural order of things here in Barcelona. Grace was more feminine in this city, there was a softer edge to her. She didn't have to care or wonder what anybody else thought and apparently that made her more mellow than he had anticipated.

There was nothing for her to fight here or battle against. He hadn't realized until they strode through the streets of this foreign city how much she responded like an urban warrior back home. Her guard was always up, he couldn't help but think that was a side effect of their job. In a way he was glad because it meant that his insane protective side could rest a little knowing that she was prepared for whatever came her way, on the opposite side of the coin toss he resented it. Why shouldn't his wife be able to relax on the streets of their own city?

At the current moment he was straddling a white sun lounger clad in a black wife beater and green cargo shorts that fell just above his knees, a pair of navy blue flip-flops attached to his feet. A straw hat was perched on the top of his head on a jaunty angle, a newspaper spread out in front of him from where he had been studying the news of the world in English. Back home he barely had a second to cast a glance at the Ledger or the Times, relaxing in their borrowed villa in front of their very own pool he had all time time in the world to do whatever he wanted.

Don was distracted by the sound of light splashing from the pool in front of him as Grace slipped into the water. He watched her over the top of his aviators captivated by her motions as she pushed off from the edge of the pool to swim a length. Her body moving with an elegance and fluidity that hypnotised him as she swam with long strong strokes. She did this every morning under the gaze of the sun before the two of them ate breakfast.