Page 19 of One Weekend in Vienna

“See something you like?” I ask, keeping my tone light.

She startles slightly, as if she’d forgotten I was standing here. “They’re beautiful,” she says softly, smiling at the artist who stands to assist her.

“Then you should get one.” I step closer. “A souvenir. Something to remember this weekend by.”Something to remember me by. I shake off the thought. I don’t just want to be memory for her.

Her lips curve, but it’s not a real smile. “I don’t need a souvenir, Max.” She hesitates, her eyes flitting back to the ornament. “I love these, though. They remind me of the ones we had growing up. My parents used to bring back an ornament from every trip, even if it was just a weekend away.”

Her voice trails off, and there’s a shadow in her eyes now, one I don’t think she even realizes is there. “They don’t collect them anymore?”

She glances at me her expression conflicted and clears her throat. “They died,” she says quietly. “Boating accident. I was fifteen.” She shrugs. “Felix was in his first year with a junior team and training for the Olympics. My grandfather took care of me until Felix was drafted and was able to get a place for us.

Shit. My chest tightens, and the instinct to pull her into my arms is so strong it’s like a physical ache. No wonder Felix is so overprotective. Of course he is, Anna is precious in a way I don’t think even she realizes. To have to deal with taking care of a younger sibling on top of being in a farm team and he lost his parents too. I do a quick calculation. He must have only been seventeen when the accident happened.

“Anna…” I start, but I don’t know what else to say. “I’m so very sorry.”

She blinks, her eyes falling back to the ornament. “It was a long time ago, and in many ways, we were lucky, we at least had each other.”

But the painis still there, and I’d do anything to erase it. I can’t obviously, and nothing can ever replace what she lost, but I can do this. “Wait here,” I tell her, ducking into the stall before she can argue.

I point out the beautiful ornament and wait while the artist wraps the ornament carefully, placing it in a bag adorned with a little sprig of holly. When I hand it to Anna, she frowns, but I see the way her fingers stroke the velvet ribbon securing the holly. “You didn’t have to do that.” She holds the bag out to me. “This should be for you.”

“It is for me,” I say, my voice low. “I’ll be happy knowing it’s hanging on your tree. A little piece of Vienna… and of us.”

Her breath catches, and for a moment, I think I’ve gotten through to her. But then she presses her lips together and looks away, slipping the bag into her tote.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice polite but distant.

Damn it.

We continue walking, the hum of holiday music and the buzz of laughter and conversation all around us. The café comes into view, its glowing windows and rustic wooden sign promising warmth. I hold the door for her, and the smell of chocolate and cinnamon hits us like a hug.

We settle at the counter, and I lean over, scanning the glass display case. “What is that famous Viennese dessert?” I ask Anna. “You had something about it in the file.”

“Sachertorte?” At my nod, she shakes her head. “Sorry, you won’t find that in the market here. Back at the hotel, for sure, though if you want some.”

I don’t want to leave here just yet. There’s something special about this little wooden café and being here with Anna makes it even more special. If she’s determined to make me a memory, I’m going to ensure that every single time she sees twinkling lights, or smells the intoxicating scent of pine, ice and sugary treats, it’s me that comes to her mind.

I take another look at the display case. A server stands waiting, his eyes cheerful behind his small round glasses. “Guten abend,” I try, noting Anna’s look of surprise. The server grins and responds in kind. The pastries look amazing, but there’s a slice of something, almost golden and homemade looking the pastry case. I’m hungry because my mouth waters just looking at it. I point it out to the server.

“Ah,Apfelstrudelkuchen,” the man says enthusiastically, waving his hands. “Best in Vienna!”

“Then I’ll take it,” I say, “after all, I’m known for wanting the best.” Next to me, Anna gives a little snort.

“Gut, gut!GlühweinandApfelstrudelkuchen.”

“What was that?”

“Glühweinis a traditional mulled wine served at the Christmas markets. It’s delicious and you should try it before you leave.”

Is it just me, or did Anna emphasize the words ‘before you leave’? I wish I could get a read on what she’s thinking. If I had a choice, I’d stay longer, make her realize that this thing between us is special.

“What do you want?” I ask.

She steps up to the counter and orders the same cake. The server’s face falls as he explains I’ve ordered the last piece. She bites her lip and there’s more than just disappointment in her expression.

“She can have mine,” I say, leaning in to point out something else. The server nods and rings up our order, waving us over to a small table.

“Max, it’s fine, you should have the cake,” Anna says as I pull out her chair.

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