Page 64 of Thiago
“Don’t worry. Thousands of people take this trip every day. It is perfectly safe,” Thiago said, amusement lacing his voice.
When the cable car stopped, and they stepped out, India decided the view at the top was worth her accelerated heartbeat. As the wind whipped around them, she inhaled a deep breath and sighed. “Wow.”
Thiago slipped an arm around her waist. “Esto es Rio.”
India lost track of how much time they spent up there. As they admired the view, Thiago pointed out Copacabana Beach, Christ the Redeemer, the blue water of the Atlantic, and the jagged mountains rising in the distance. They took plenty of photos and then had drinks at one of the restaurants before heading back down the mountain.
As Bernardo drove them back to the hotel, India nestled against Thiago in the back seat, scrolling through the pictures on her phone. Each image held a piece of the day—her smiling beneath Christ the Redeemer, sitting on the tiled steps, and finally holding tight to the hat on her head as the wind whipped around them on Sugarloaf Mountain.
This short trip had been exactly what she needed, and she wished they had more time.
At the hotel, they showered and changed clothes, then went downstairs to the poolside bar and enjoyed pre-dinner drinks while people-watching. Later, when they caught a taxi to a restaurant down the beach, the sun had dipped low, painting the city in amber and fiery red.
Like a typical churrascaria, the establishment was bustling with servers in crisp uniforms moving between the tables with skewers of sizzling meat. This particular location, however, featured a buffet with an incredible array of seafood, such asmoqueca, a Brazilian fish stew, grilled fish, huge shrimp, mussels, and more. They ate until full, with Thiago teasing India after she surrendered her plate while he went back for thirds.
Night had fallen by the time they left, the strip along Copacabana Beach lit up by street lamps and the glow of lights from cars and buildings running parallel to the water.
“Let’s walk back,” India suggested.
Thiago frowned. “Our hotel is more than a mile away,” he said, concern in his eyes.
“So? It’s our last night in Rio, and I want to walk along the beach.” Instead of waiting, she took off without him.
“A mile is too much after such a long day,” Thiago called after her, following at a slower pace.
India glanced over her shoulder. “I can handle it.”
After a few feet, she looked back again. Thiago was strolling along, his hands tucked into his pants pockets.
“Can’t keep up?” she teased.
“I’m enjoying the view,” he replied, his eyes sparkling.
India pouted. “I don’t want to walk alone.”
He quickened his pace to walk beside her. “If you get tired, I’ll carry you.”
“Deal.”
They removed their shoes and let them dangle from their fingers. Side by side, they strolled the length of the beach, thecool grains sliding between India’s painted toes. The breeze rustled Thiago’s hair and whipped the hem of her dress around her calves.
Along the way, they encountered other pedestrians—a couple walking their dog on a leash, friends laughing and talking animatedly, kids running toward them ahead of their parents.
Nearing the Copacabana Palace, India remarked, “See, we’re almost back at the hotel. You were worried for no reason.”
“I am still worried,” Thiago said without hesitation. “If you so much as stumble, I will throw you over my shoulder.”
She laughed. “Like a caveman?”
He gave her a half-smile, his eyes glinting with humor. “You would complain the whole time, but I would ignore you because I know you’d secretly love it.”
She sighed dramatically. “Your arrogance knows no bounds.”
“Am I wrong?” he asked, his voice carrying easily over the roar of the surf.
“I’m not answering.”
“Then the answer is yes,” he said with confidence, taking her hand.
