You’re sitting at the dining table, coffee cups before you, the table covered in notes and scraps of paper.

Three weeks married and instead of arguing about toothpaste or socks, you’re arguing about your honeymoon.

In front of you, your laptop plays a video of a white beach in Thailand.

Turquoise water, palm trees, sunshine.

You sigh softly.

“So…” You begin, turning the laptop slightly toward him. “Look at this. Sun, sea, cocktails, massages on the beach…it’s perfect!”

“Perfect? You call thirty degrees and sand everywhere perfect? I’m sweating just thinking about it.” He leans back in his chair, drapes his right arm over the back of yours and shakes his head.

“No, I’m not going there.” His voice is calm, but you know that tone.

The ‘my mind’s made up and you won’t change it’ tone.

You blink in disbelief, then roll your eyes. “Oh, come on, Lando! Why not?!”

“It’s way too hot. I don’t wanna sit around roasting like a chicken.” He mutters stubbornly, shaking his head again.

You point your pen at him dramatically. “You know what? I found a gray hair this morning! I nearly had a heart attack! I have gray hair because of you!”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, then grins.

That typical, mischievous Lando grin you love and dread.

“What? I didn’t had a single gray hair before we got together. Look at this!”

You laugh, even though you don’t mean to. “Oh, please. You had gray hairs before we even met!”

“That's a lie!” He leans forward, runs a hand through his hair, and points at a spot near his temple. “See this? Before you..not one. Zero! That’s a marriage hair! I had none before you.”

You shake your head, but your smile gives you away. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet you married me." He says with a wink, then leans back again, his tone softening a little.

“But seriously…I just can’t do two weeks of lying around. That's bored. I need something to do. Norway would be perfect, snow, a fireplace, maybe the Northern Lights. That would be special. And we could go skiing.”

You sigh and drop the pen you were using to scribble notes.

“I want something special too, Lando. But for me, that means finally slowing down. No stress, no plans, no skiing. Just you and me, somewhere warm, relaxing.”

He looks at you for a long moment and you can see him trying to really understand what you’re saying.

Then he leans forward and places his hand on your thigh.

“I get that, really. What if we find somewhere that gives us both? A place where we can do things, but still can relax.”

You glance at his hand. “So…no Thailand. And no Norway.”

He nods. “Maybe something in between.”

You sight softly, watching him stir the spoon in his cup as if the perfect idea might suddenly appear there.

You lean back in your chair.

Booking a honeymoon isn’t easy. If someone had told you that before, you would’ve laughed in their face.

“You know…in the end, I don’t care where we go. As long as we’re there together. If you’re with me, it’s beautiful anywhere.”

He looks up, and this time his smile isn’t mischievous.

It's warm, genuine.

“That was a bit too cheesy." He murmurs. “But I agree.”

You laugh and slide the laptop back to him. “So, Mr. Gray Hair, where are we going then?”

He leans forward, elbows on the table, chin resting in his hands, eyes sparkling.

“Well…how about the Alps?” He asks, typing ‘Alps’ into the search bar.

Instantly, images fill the screen.

Snow covered mountains in the distance, cows standing in green fields, a wide lake with the sunset glowing over it and more.