Chapter
Fourteen: The River Flows In You
“Delta Flight 62, departing non-stop to Amsterdam, welcomes Premium Economy passengers in Zone Two. Please make your way to Gate C16 for boarding.”
The announcement floats over the hum of the terminal like a starting gun. Mark gathers the passports, Allan scans the boarding passes on his phone, and within minutes the four of them are sliding into their seats — Rows 8 and 9, two-seat pairs facing forward, close enough to talk, far enough to feel like this is their adventure. Kimmy grabs Mark’s arm, fingers curling tight. “This is so exciting,” she whispers, eyes already shining. Behind them, Sally taps Kimmy lightly on the shoulder. “Okay, very important question,” she says. “Where do you plug the headphones in?”
Kimmy laughs. “Here — see?” She leans over the armrest, helping her find the jack. “Trust me, you’re going to want them.” The plane lifts, the city drops away, and eight and a half hours later they’re descending through low clouds into Amsterdam. Allan presses his face closer to the window like a kid.
“Look… oh look at that,” he says, nudging Sally. “Do you see those canals?”
Sally gasps. “This is unreal.” Kimmy watches them, then glances at Mark. A soft smile settles in as a thought crosses her mind: This will be fun. Sharing this. Just two couples, great friends, all of it new together.
The wheels touch down.
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Amsterdam slides past in reflections and ripples — narrow boats, leaning houses, bicycles perched everywhere like punctuation marks. The canal water mirrors the sky as they drift through, guides pointing out windows, bridges, centuries folded into corners. Then the ship pulls away, the city receding gently, the river opening into something wider. Cologne waits ahead.
---------.
Cobblestones echo under their steps as they walk through Cologne’s old town, history pressing close on both sides. The cathedral rises before them suddenly, impossibly tall, dark stone cutting sharply into the sky. Kimmy stops short. “WOW,” she breathes. “Look how high those spires are. How did they even get them up there?” The guide smiles, already mid-explanation, but Kimmy is still staring upward, neck craned, awe unfiltered. Mark watches her, the way she takes it in without trying to contain it. Forty-five minutes pass inside — arches soaring, light pouring through stained glass, time bending. When they step back outside, Kimmy exhales like she’s just surfaced.
Breakfast on Day Three hums softly — clink of plates, low conversation, sunlight spilling across white tablecloths. Kimmy reaches across the table. “What do you guys think so far?” she asks. Then, to Mark, “Hey baby, can you pass me the jelly?” He slides it over with a smile. Allan leans back in his chair. “Well, first of all,” he says seriously, “the coffee is not Wawa coffee.”
Mark laughs out loud. Allan joins him, shoulders shaking. Kimmy and Sally exchange exaggerated eye rolls. “Seeing Amsterdam from canal level was so unique,” Sally says. “It felt like being inside the city instead of just looking at it.” Kimmy nods eagerly. “I can’t get past that cathedral in Cologne. I mean, for real — if we built that today it would be amazing. But in the 1400s? Seriously?”
Allan lifts his fork. “If the rest of the trip is anything like the first few days…” He shakes his head. “I don’t even know what to say other than wow.”
“And the staff,” Sally adds. “Right?” Kimmy says. “They make you feel like you’re home.” Mark watches the conversation bounce around the table, head turning from one to the other, a quiet grin settling in. This is why I love river cruising in Europe, he thinks. And why I’ll keep bringing my girl back here again and again. Kimmy notices his silence. “You’re quiet, baby. Don’t you have an opinion?”
Allan points his fork. “Yeah, buddy. Give it up.” Mark slowly, deliberately sets his fork down — pancake bite still perched on the tip. He takes a long, theatrical sip of coffee. Kimmy snorts. “Oh my God,” she says. “Coach Love has arrived for today’s lesson.”
The table stills.
Mark clears his throat. “Okay. I’ve tried to really let it all unfold in front of you guys,” he says. “But today…” He pauses, raising one finger. “…today…” Sally inhales sharply, hand halfway up. Allan’s eyes widen. Kimmy leans in, smiling to herself. I love how he tells stories, she thinks. She glances around the dining room, then gestures toward him. “Do you all know this man? This man right here?” She beams. “He’s mine.”
Mark waits. Then calmly finishes the pancake bite. The other three exchange glances.
“Dude,” Allan groans. “Come on. Why?” Mark’s grin spreads wide.
Kimmy squeals — full, joyful, uncontained. Heads turn from the next table. She doesn’t care. “I remember looking at those pictures online!” she says, clapping her hands.
“Oh, it’s so much better live and in color,” Mark finishes.
The ship glides through the Rhine River valley, castles rising one after another along the hillsides. The program director’s voice drifts over the speakers, weaving stories of sieges and legends and centuries gone by.
“Ooooh.”
“Look at that one.”
“Did you see that tower?”
For hours, the hills roll past, stone silhouettes watching over the water. As the final bend curves away and the last castle slips from view, Kimmy turns into Mark and wraps her arms around him. “So… soooo…” she starts, words failing her. He pulls her close and leans in, voice low against her ear. “Until I met you,” he whispers, “this was the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen.” She hugs him tighter. The river keeps flowing.
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Wish You Were Here
That night, the river slides past the glass doors like it has all the time in the world. Mark lies back against the pillows, book open, reading lamp casting a soft pool of light across the bed. The steady hush of water moving along the hull makes everything feel suspended, as if the world has agreed to slow down just for them. Behind him, the bathroom door opens. Kimmy steps into the room and extends her arms.
Nothing.
Mark turns a page.
She frowns, clears her throat — exaggerated — and lifts her arms higher, holding the pose.
Still nothing.
“You brought the shorty-short pajamas I bought you!”
She pouts theatrically. “And?” He curls one finger in invitation. She giggles, bounds across the room, and launches herself onto the bed, curling against him immediately, her hand settling over his heart like it belongs there. “I love it when you’re on my arm,” he murmurs, “and all the guys look at you.” Color warms her cheeks.
“But this…” His hand slides gently over her hip. “…this outfit is for my eyes only.” He kisses the top of her head. She tilts her face up. “So you like it.”
Mark presses a finger to his lips, considering. “This, my sweet, feels like a trick question. On the one hand, a ‘yes’ clearly makes you happy. On the other hand…” He squints. “…you might be testing whether I still like my old shirt.”
She mock-slaps his chest. “It is not old. And it is most decidedly not your shirt.”
He chuckles. “Yes, I love it. But not as much as the model wearing it right here.”
Morning breaks gently as the ship docks, mist still clinging to the riverbanks. The four of them stand along the shoreline waiting for the excursion bus. “Seeing all those castles yesterday,” Allan says, shaking his head, “stunning. You were right, dude.”
“Told you,” Mark replies, unable to keep the pride out of his voice.
“But…” Kimmy jumps in, eyes bright, “…getting to walk through Marksburg Castle — actually being in a castle — I swear I could feel all the families who lived there.”
Sally nods. “And how wild was it that the bathroom door had to lock from the outside so invaders couldn’t climb up?”
Mark laughs. “Not sure I’d volunteer for that invasion.” Laughter ripples through them.
“So,” Allan asks, “Heidelberg today. Any hints?”
“Nope,” Mark says easily. “Just that it’s great.”
Stone walls, winding paths, the guide’s voice telling a centuries-old love story tied to the palace. The girls exchange looks, reacting to the romance like it’s unfolding live. Back on board, lunch hums with easy conversation. At the table, Sally says, “I think I want to do the optional two-hour walk through this little village we’re docked at. You in, Allan?”
“All in,” he says quickly. “Don’t want to miss anything.”
Kimmy smiles. “It looks cute. Bet there are shops.” Allan groans. Mark sets his napkin down. “I think I’ll sit this one out. Just enjoy the top deck.”
Kimmy studies him. “You okay, baby?” He dabs lightly at his eye. “All good. Just enjoying the flavor of the river. You guys go have fun.” As they head off, Sally leans closer to Kimmy. “I noticed — does his eye bother him?”
“Sometimes,” Kimmy says. “But it’s never really a problem. I think it’s not the vision — it’s noticing they’re not the same that bothers him.”
“You’d never know,” Allan says.
They turn the corner and, almost immediately, find themselves in front of a row of shops. Inside the first one, Sally browses happily — but notices Kimmy lingering near the door. “Something wrong, honey?” she asks, squeezing her arm.
“No,” Kimmy says quickly. But inside she thinks, I thought I could be an independent woman. But it’s not the same.
Mark stands alone on the top deck, gazing down the river. Another ship drifts past, just slightly out of focus. Damn eye, he thinks. Footsteps approach behind him. A soft kiss lands on his cheek. “Oh — hey, baby,” he says, surprised. “I thought you were shopping with Sally.” She pulls a chair close and settles into him, her head fitting perfectly against his shoulder.
“I found everything I want,” she says quietly. “Right here.” Mark wonders — not for the first time — how his heart keeps finding room to grow. He pats her hand. Together, they watch the river carry them forward.
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Climb Every Mountain
Morning in Basel comes quietly. The river below the hotel glides past with the same unhurried confidence it’s carried for centuries, and Mark stands alone on the veranda, coffee cooling in his hands, taking it in one last time. Church spires, tiled roofs, the soft clatter of a city waking up — beautiful, contained, complete. Behind him, the door slides open. Kimmy steps out and slips her arms around his waist from behind, cheek pressing into his back. “Sorry the cruise is over?” she asks gently.
He nods once. “Yeah. But I’m glad we’re doing the extension.”
She smiles against him, the kind of smile that doesn’t need words.
Down below, Allan and Sally are already at the bus, laughing as they sort luggage, tags flapping in the breeze. The four of them load up, settle in, and soon the city gives way to countryside — rolling green, tidy villages, church bells marking time instead of clocks. By midday they’re on Lake Lucerne, sunlight dancing across the water as lunch is served. Kimmy sits close to Mark, her hand tucked into his, fingers laced like they belong there.
“This is so picturesque,” she murmurs. “And so… romantic.”
Sally shakes her head with a grin. “You two…”
Then she turns, mock-serious. “That Petite France part of Strasbourg yesterday was awfully romantic too, right, Allan?”
Allan answers around a mouthful of sandwich. “Uh… yeah. I guess.” Laughter ripples across the table. Mark gestures toward the horizon, where mountains rise in blue-gray layers.
Kimmy stares, quiet now. “Oh… wow.”
The next morning, twenty-two of them gather in the hotel lobby, jackets zipped, cameras ready. The guide shepherds them to the dock, and soon they’re gliding across Lake Lucerne, the water impossibly clear, mountains mirrored perfectly below their peaks. Allan and Sally move to the deck, pointing, marveling. Kimmy leans into Mark. “It’s been great sharing this with them, hasn’t it, honey?”
He nods. “It really has.” The boat docks at the base of a towering mountain. Mark points upward. “Up there, baby.”
Kimmy looks. Gulps. Then laughs. “That’s… pretty high.”
The cog train begins its climb, gears clicking, the angle steepening as the world falls away below them. Meadows turn to forests, forests to rock, and soon snow appears — first in patches, then in sweeping stretches. “Ohhh…” Kimmy breathes.
All the while, her hand clutches Mark’s arm, knuckles tight. He leans close. “I’ve got you, baby. I always will. Just enjoy the ride.” A soft kiss to her cheek. Across the aisle, Sally watches and smiles. She turns to Allan. “Those two just… complete each other, don’t they?”
Allan shakes his head, amused. “You should hear him in the morning over coffee. Every day — it’s all about her.”
Sally exhales softly. “That’s true love in real life.”
At the summit, the doors open onto an observation deck that steals the breath from every chest present. Even Mark pauses. “Wow,” he whispers.
Kimmy gasps. “Ohhh… my…”
The Alps stretch endlessly, jagged and luminous, valleys falling away so far below they barely seem real. Allan stands frozen, arms slowly spreading wide. “This,” he says, voice hushed, “…is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.” They linger nearly an hour, time losing its edges. Kimmy wraps both arms around Mark.
“Thanks, baby.”
“For what, honey?”
She nods toward the horizon. “This. Alaska was incredible — being in it. But this…” Her voice softens. “Standing on top of the world like this. The wonder of it all.”
Mark squeezes her. “You know what’s really cool?”
She smiles. “Besides your hands? They’re freezing.”
He laughs. “Okay, yes — besides my hands.”
She tilts her head. “Are you about to get all Hallmark-ish and tell me you love me like these amazing mountains?”
“Never crossed my mind,” he says, deadpan. She pouts playfully. He turns her gently, forehead to forehead. “Did you ever see The Sound of Music? It was set in these Swiss Alps.”
“A long time ago,” she says. “Why?”
His voice catches just slightly as he whispers, “That one song… it’s ringing in my head right now.”
“Which one, baby?”
“Climb Every Mountain,” he murmurs. “I’d do it all for you.”
She smiles, eyes shining. “Who would have thought, right?”
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Bleeding Love
Suitcases sit unopened against the far wall of the bedroom, still bearing the faint smell of airplanes and hotel soap. Mark pulls on his sweatpants and his long-sleeve Alaska T-shirt while Kimmy stands at the sink in her new shorty-short pajamas, brushing her teeth. He pauses, watching her in the mirror. She catches him, turns slightly, and with her mouth full of toothpaste says, “What are you looking at, Mister?” Her eyes smile even as the words come out garbled. “Nothing,” he says innocently, lifting his hands in surrender.
They collapse onto the sofa, bodies sinking into the familiar cushions. “Good for one show before bed?” Mark asks. Kimmy nods, already curling into him. “Long flight from Zurich, and that connection in New Jersey I could have done without. But yeah… I can make it through one. How’s your back?”
He rubs the small of it, the motion automatic. “You know, it’s always sore after international flights. I’m good.” They pick up Traitors where they left off weeks earlier.
“Oh remember?” Kimmy says as the opening plays. “She just became a Traitor.”
An hour later, Kimmy yawns, wide and unguarded. Mark kisses the top of her head. “Let’s get you to bed, Missy.”
She obliges, padding toward the bedroom and tugging him by the hand. “Nothing like our own bed,” she murmurs as she settles in, already drifting. “Curled up with my man. I love you, baby. Great trip.”
“I love you so much, honey,” Mark answers — just a beat slower than usual.
Kimmy’s hand tightens on his shirt for half a second, then relaxes as sleep takes her. Mark lies awake, staring at the ceiling. This is more than sore, he thinks. And it’s not just my lower back. He shifts carefully. The ache moves with him, sharp in a way that doesn’t feel right.
Probably gone tomorrow, he tells himself.
But his body doesn’t quite believe him.
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