Chapter Nine
Fernando and I are seated at opposite ends of the cabin. There isn’t much chance for us to talk or interact during the flight. Not that it matters. Every time I walk past him to use the restroom, he’s sound asleep. He really is like a cat. I’ve never met a person who can sleep as long as him. I try to catch a little sleep and watch some movies, but the excitement of traveling to a new country keeps me wide awake.
We land in Lisbon a little ahead of schedule, around eight a.m. local time. Nervous energy floods my system as I step off the plane and wait for Fernando. It may be early, but the airport is plenty busy. I smell coffee, and the aroma of something sweet. I ate breakfast on the plane, but now I’m starting to get hungry again. Food is my love language.
There are people speaking in English, Portuguese, Spanish, French, and several other languages I don’t recognize. A grin tugs at my lips—I’m really here. In Portugal. Pulling out my phone, I snap a photo of myself with a Portuguese sign in the background to send to Daphne later.
“Thanks for waiting, Ava.” Fernando swings his duffle bag over his shoulder.
“No problem. It gave me a second to take everything in.” I sniff the air. “Do you know what smells so good?”
Fernando’s eyes light up. “Sí. Follow me” He leads me to a nearby café. “Pastel de nata,” he says, gesturing toward a tray of small custard-filled tarts with caramelized tops. “These are a must-try. Let’s grab a couple and a coffee. I slept through breakfast. These should hold me ’til we get through passport control.”
We join the queue. “How long did you sleep? The entire flight?”
“No. I woke up once to eat dinner.”
“That was like two hours into the flight,” I tease.
“What can I say, I need my beauty rest.” I shake my head. “How did you pass the time on the flight?” he asks.
“Other than watching movies, I read up on Lisbon.” We move up a few places in the queue. “There’s a lot more to see and do here than I thought. It’s too bad we don’t have more time, or even a car. There’re a couple places outside the city I’d love to visit.”
“I have the time if you want to explore. And renting a car is no big deal. Driving is the best way to get around if you want to maximize what you can see and do. Are you up for it?”
I inhale sharply and bite the inside of my cheek. The thought of spending time in the car with him sends a hum of delight through my body.
“Ava, don’t feel guilty if it’s something you want to do. When I say I’m flexible, I mean it. I leave the planning to my mamá and my tías,” he teases.
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.” He nods.
“Will you let me pay for the car and gas?”
“Nope. We’ll have to split it fifty-fifty.”
I blow out air. From the tone of his voice, I doubt he’ll budge on it. At last count, he was ahead in the “doing me favors” category threeto one. Now four to one. I owe him big time. “Fine, but I reserve the right to buy you breakfast.”
“Deal.” At least he agreed to that.
We reach the front of the line, and Fernando places our order in Portuguese. Heat rushes to my cheeks as I stare at him, then quickly look away. Here’s another skill I didn’t know he had.
Once we have our bag in hand, we find an empty table, and each take one of the crispy desserts from inside. It’s warm and creamy, a perfect mix of sweet and just a hint of spice, and I’m instantly hooked. I groan in delight. “Okay, if all Portuguese food is this good, I’m in trouble.”
“Spoiler alert, itisall delicious. But Spanish food is even better.” Fernando grins.
“Biased much?” I elbow him lightly.
He chuckles, taking a swig of his coffee. “So here’s what I’m thinking: I say we rent a car, throw our bags in the back, and spend the first part of the day exploring Lisbon on foot. When we’re done, we pick up the car and hit the road. We’ll spend as much or as little time as you want here.”
I agree, and we toast our coffee cups together to seal the deal.
As we make our way out of the airport and into the city, the citizens of Lisbon are bustling around us. The morning sun glints off the intricate tiles beneath our feet, and the air is filled with the smell of freshly baked pastries and a hint of salt from the nearby river.
We begin a stroll through the streets of Alfama, a labyrinth of narrow alleys and colorful buildings with tiled facades. It’s just like the pictures in the tour book, except they’re real.
Fernando gives me a smile that feels both mischievous and inviting. “Are you ready to get going?”
