You Again? » l.t. au

Incoming Call

#4: Incoming Call

i am two years older and not a bit wiser but here you go

"You're going to fall off that balcony, you know," I heard his voice, but I didn't really care about it; I continued to lean on the small fence, trying to take in as much of the small street as I could before the sun set down.

"I'm not," I shouted back, "And even if I do, I'll die a happy woman."

And really, choosing Monte Carlo as our honeymoon destination was probably one of the best decisions we'd ever made.

I can't even believe everything that's happened in the past year; first we accidentally got married - and we had to spend actual weeks to change our last names. Louis and I had half a mind to just get divorced and then get properly married again, but the mere thought of getting divorced for whatever reason turned out to be too painful for us. So we decided to just do it the harder way.

Then we went back to work, and were actually able to afford a gift for Zach and Monica's wedding a few months ago, then our own wedding party less than a month ago, and now a honeymoon. We were even more broke than we were last year when we went to Las Vegas, and I for one couldn't wait to go back to work.

But for now I was willing to not give a shit and just enjoy these two weeks we'd gotten in this beautiful, beautiful place.

"Come on," Louis repeated, and now I could hear him much clearer as he walked out on the balcony too. "I know you love it here but- shit."

I looked over my shoulder, and grinned when I noticed him looking in the same direction as I was just a minute ago. "That's actually so pretty," He mumbled, and leaned over the fence to look down at the street. Now I understood why people called it one of the most beautiful towns in the world.

"See?" I said with a satisfied smile, "Told you south France is beautiful."

"Well, technically, this isn't-"

"If you say that this isn't south France, I will cut you." Of course I knew it wasn't south France, but if I wanted to, I could literally walk to the border. I could walk from one border on one side of Monaco to the other on on the opposite side. And everyone spoke French, anyway.

"But it isn't," Louis pointed out, wrapping his arms around me so I wouldn't be able to punch him. I knew that was his reason; and I hated how he knew me so well. "Now, since you said you'd spend all days staring at south France and this isn't south France, just come inside."

"Ugh, you're evil," I said as he practically dragged me in inside our little apartment. "This is better than south France."

"You should have thought about that earlier," He mumbled against my temple and placed a kiss there, before pushing me down on the couch. "But wait, I've something to show you."

I bet he does. "What?" I asked slowly, deciding to ignore my thoughts as I looked over my shoulder, and saw him walk out of the kitchen a minute later, carrying two plates of something toward me.

"What the- oh." I raised my eyebrows when I saw spaghetti in the plates. But this wasn't like other times when either of us would make spaghetti; this was neat, perfectly twirled, with pieces of fresh vegetables on the top. Just like in the restaurants that we could hardly afford going to.

"Did you buy it?" I asked in a blunt tone; he just had a pleased grin on his face.

"No, made by your one and only."

"This is... this looks better than our wedding cake." I frowned as I looked down at our food, purposely trying to hide just how much I loved him for putting effort into making this. Because it sure looked like he put a lot of time into it.