Page 3 of One Weekend in Iceland

It’s been a while since I had the free time to enjoy some female company, considering nearly every waking moment has been spent working, even on the weekends. This break with the boys will be the first chance I’ve had to kick back and enjoy myself in months. And I plan on making the most of it.

I lay the bag flat on the floor and twist the numbers into the code she gave me. It feels wrong opening someone else’s luggage, even with their permission. But it’s best to be sure. The lock clicks open with a loud snick, and I unzip it before lifting up the top half. A big mistake, because out pops an array of brightly colored scraps of lace and tiny triangles of black silk.

Wow, the girl likes her lingerie. Actually, I like her lingerie, and I can’t stop my mind from picturing the underwear before me with the sexy voice from the phone call.

Carefully, I move the top layer of underwear to the side and find a crumpled pile of plain T-shirts in white, black, gray, and pink, along with some jeans and sweaters. In a scrunched-up ball in one corner is some gold sparkly fabric. I don’t bother touching it as it’s too small to hold anything. Scattered among the clothing is a selection of shoes, boots, and joggers, none of them together in pairs. I reach my hand between everything to check there’s nothing dubious in the bottom, and my hand snags on a thick plastic stick.

No, it’s not a stick. Oh, for fuck’s sake! Please don’t let that be what I think it is. I run my hand along the length, and—

Yep, it's a vibrator, and I pull back as if burned.

I stare down at the messy contents; it looks exactly the same way I found it. Nothing is neatly folded like she would find if she looked in my bag. I guess she did say she was in a hurry. For me, even rushing, I would still need to fold every item individually, packing them neatly, and bag every pair of shoes separately. I hate chaos in any form, and it’s been that way since I was a kid. I was the one who would always pack my toys away in their boxes without being asked, even doing the same for my siblings. At the time, it felt like it was the only thing I was able to control. And it had the added benefit of not giving my father a reason to take out his rage on one of his children.

I close the lid of the bag and zip it up. There’s no contraband, and that’s all I need to be thinking about after looking through a stranger’s luggage. Now I just have to hope border control doesn’t want to go through the bag too.

For the first time today, I feel like my luck is turning. Security waved me through without a second glance, and I was able to get a taxi straight away without having to stand in a queue.

When the taxi pulls up to the bed and breakfast a little later, it’s not my accommodation that holds my attention. It’s impossible not to be wowed by the sight of the distinctive white Hallgrimskirkja church across the street from it. I could have booked us into a five-star hotel for the weekend, and we certainly would have all been able to afford it, but luxury doesn’t buy you this iconic view.

The hotel sits at the bottom of the hill, closer to the center of the city and overlooking the harbor. All very nice, but as the organizer of the accommodation and an architect influenced by the Nordic style, I chose this place instead. And I couldn’t be happier standing here on the hilltop, staring at the tall tower of the church, a readily recognized Reykjavik landmark and a stunning example of Icelandic architecture.

I’m quickly checked in by Ingrid, the owner, and directed toward a steep, narrow set of stairs. I climb three flights, awkwardly dragging Freya’s luggage behind me. Pausing near the top, I realize I should have left the bag downstairs. My headache is turning into a migraine, impeding my usual good judgment and making my brain as effective as a ball of cotton wool rather than fully functioning neurons.

The time flashes on my watch, and I figure I’ve got about an hour before I can expect a text from Freya. Desperately seeking relief, I scrabble about in my backpack, snag the box of Ibuprofen and pop a couple in my mouth, glad I kept them in my backpack. I swallow them whole with a few gulps of water, hoping they will take effect instantly but knowing it's more likely to take about ten minutes.

Entering my room, the cold hardwood floorboards creak with each labored step I take toward the bed, literally falling into it. And instead of a firm mattress supporting my weight, I bob about on the surface. It’s a fucking waterbed, and I jiggle around like I’m sitting in a bowl of jello. Who puts a waterbed in a bed and breakfast? But as I remember the narrow, steep stairs I climbed up to my room, it starts to make more sense.

Not wanting to spring a leak with any sharp objects, I kick off my shoes and remove my belt. I haven’t had much experience with waterbeds, so who knows if that’s even a possibility. I cautiously ease back into the center of the queen-sized bed with a slosh of water and try to stay as still as possible until the swaying slows and eventually stops. And when it no longer feels like I’m in a rowboat on a stormy sea, I do manage to sleep.

What seems like only minutes later, the buzz of my phone vibrating its way across the side table near my head wakes me. I snatch it up, relieved my head feels human again.

It’s Drew, probably calling to check the arrangements one more time.

“Halo, bro,” I greet.

“Hey, bro. I’ve got some bad news.” He pauses with a heavy sigh before continuing. “Anna is sick with a high temperature. The doctor said it’s probably a virus, but she’s so small, and no matter what Katie and I do, she won’t settle.” In the background, their three-month-old baby is crying. Poor little Anna. She’s a wee bonnie lass, and I hate hearing she’s sick.

“Fuck, that’s not good.”

“Aye, right. Anyway, I’m really sorry, but I can’t travel this weekend.”

I know my brother, and I can tell in the tone of his voice how worried he is. Responsibility and loyalty run deep with Drew. My brother went to war, facing life-and-death situations on a daily basis as a member of the SAS, and he held his nerve. But when it comes to his baby girl, he goes to pieces.

“Of course, you need to stay with Katie and Anna. We can reschedule to another time,” I reassure him.

“I know how hard it was for you to get time away.” He’s right. It was tricky finding a weekend everyone could do. But that’s not important.

“Mate, you know I always wanted to visit Iceland, so it’s fine. But what about the boys? Are they still coming?”

“No, they’re going to cancel their flights since they weren’t flying till tomorrow morning.”

“Makes sense. Works out well for me, too, because it means I can do my own thing.”

“You mean salivate over buildings. I swear your love of bricks and mortar borders on a weird kink.”

I laugh. “Not everyone is lucky enough to find the woman of their dreams. So stop bugging me and get back to your lasses. I’ve got somewhere to be.”

Before I disconnect the call, I ask him to keep me updated on Anna. I’ve only met my niece once, and already, she’s stolen a piece of my heart.

---