"I cannot believe you made me run that far in these shoes," I whine in the van, sliding them off and setting them on the seat between us. "It's been three hours and my feet still hurt."

"It could be argued that the walking and picture taking we did at the previous stops had something to do with your feet hurting."

"Don't change the subject!"

"Did I or did I not get you back to the van on time?"

"You did. But—"

"Ah." Heholds up his finger to stop me. "I know you're going to say, 'but we lost teh van and thought they'd left us there for a minute'. And you're right, but that's not the point. The point is, I did get you back to the van."

"You wouldn't have if it weren't for Lorena screaming at us."

He nods, accepting defeat as Lorena calls out a, "You're welcome," from behind us.

"And," I add, "it was a hike! I don't do hikes."

"You're married to me and you don't hike? The horror!"

"I'll wait around the fireplace and you can regale me of all your bear sedating stories when you return. Maybe, if you're lucky, I'll even make some dinner for you."

"Oh, you cook?"

"You know," Raj interrupts from behind us, popping his head over the seat until he's right between us. "I hear the way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"Is that how Divya snagged you?" Enrique asks, turning to face him. "I feel bad with you two sitting in the back. It's your wedding, after all."

"And we agreed to switch at every stop so no one gets too car sick." Divya waves off his concerns.

"But not exactly," Raj answers Enrique's question. "Her mother tried to convince her to cook for me when we first met. We were supposed to be an arranged match, but Divya was not having it. So I broke it off. My mother gave her mother the excuse that Divya could not cook."

He laughs as he reminisces.

Divya pulls him back to sit beside her. "Well, naturally, I was insulted at the implication—"

"Which is ironic, since the implication is correct," I butt in.

"Enough out of you, Miss 'can't roast a marshmallow to save my life'."

"Anyway, a few months later she comes to my door and nearly bangs it off its hinges. I was so shocked I nearly called the police but then she started screaming my name, and I knew it was Divya."

"He'd been harbouring a somewhat less-than-secret love for me since the whole arranged thing fell through."

"I had, yes. So I opened the door and she stormed inside and slammed a tray of samosas down in front of me and said 'I'll have you know I am not a bad cook' and left."

"He chased me down, though. Good thing that building didn't have any elevators."

"It is the best thing, because I got to ask my Divya out on a date where no one would make her prepare me food."

"And he hadn't even tried the samosas yet," I jump in. "So you know it's true love."

"That was maybe a good thing, too, because I don't think they were very good." Divya buries her head in her hands and laughs.

"Sometimes the way to a man's heart isn't through his stomach, then," Enrique reasons.

"Maybe not, but in the end we did tell our parents we had started dating and his mother was overjoyed but mine have taken a bit of time to warm up to the whole idea."

"Which I think is ridiculous because they picked the guy, you know?" I interject, looking to Enrique for confirmation.

To my surprise, it is Divya who answers. "I think they were saddened to learn that their pick was not the reason I didn't wish to go through with the arranged marriage. They were hoping I would see the beauty in it the same way they did."

"And you do see the beauty in it, now that it has led us here."

"And led my parents to many happy years. Yes. Sometimes things don't work out the way we planned."

"Sometimes they work out how they were meant to." Enrique drops that stunner like a hot potato, plunging the car into complete silence for several minutes until our guide interrupts us to tell us we are now stopping at a museum with some sign that records the temperature.

Because I need another reminder of how hot everything is here.

But it's Divya's day, so I put a smile on my face and hop out of the van and onto the scorching earth before I remember I'm not wearing any shoes. The yelp I let out is reminiscent of a feral animal and causes an almost comical reaction in the family near us. The mother actually wraps her arm around the small boy and tells him not to look.

"It's hot," I say. "Out here in the desert and all."

Again.

Divya better know how much we love her after this.

"Welcome to the Furnace Creek Visitor Center," our guide says, completely ignoring the fact that we're still stumbling out of the van. "This little oasis in the middle of the desert is our ticket to bathrooms, snacks, and a delightful gift shop. You can also see the sign for the highest recorded temperature just to your right and there is also a lovely reading of our current weather."

"Look," Enrique chuckles to himself, pointing at the more than one hundred degree temperature recording. "It's boiling."

"As you can see it does include the Centigrade measurement, dear," our guide answers before any of us can say anything. "We'll go this way for some pictures."

"Oh, you got told!" I laugh, allowing Enrique to hold my hand as we cross the parking lot.

"You can't win them all. Sometimes the jokes fall flat."

"Unlike the Grand Canyon which isn't at all flat," I joke, waiting for him to groan.

Instead he just lets out a little chuckle and says, "I wish I'd thought of that one."

No you don't! No one wishes they had thought of that one. It was supposed to be funny because it was bad.

We allow the river of people guide us without much thought to where we're headed. As we approach the building, I ask, "So, besides snacks, what are we doing here? Taking in a history brochure? Sitting on the cold floor?"

"Using the toilets?"

"I thought that went without saying."

"It probably does. I was just bugging you."

"So, you ever going to tell me your favourite movie or are you just going to keep me guessing until I get it right?"

Enrique opens the door and sweeps his hand in front of me, inviting me inside. He doesn't need to tell me twice, the cool air beckoning me into the darkened entry.

"I will tell you, if you want to know."

"If it's a documentary I'm not sure I want to know. Or horror. Oh, no. You aren't a horror fan, are you?"

"It is not either of those things and I am not a horror fan. Though I do dabble occasionally. What do you have against horror?"

"It's scary?" I ask it like a question, though I'm sure it's the answer.

"That's fair. You don't like being scared?"

"I don't like being scared or surprised. And horror tends to lack the kind of emotional character stuff I like. Some of it is okay, but I'd still rather watch it when it's light out. And even then some days I'd rather not."

"I can work with that," he muses, stepping into the gift shop in search of snacks.

"So?" I ask him. "What is your favourite movie?"

"I haven't forgotten the question, I'm just mulling over the answer."

So he doesn't know either. Aren't we a pair?

"I think I'm going to say Hidden Figures right now. I don't ever really have a favourite movie, but if I had to pick, I think that's what I'd go with."

"I should have guessed."

"Guessed what?"

"Guessed that you'd love a movie about math," I laugh. "But I liked it, too. Even the parts about math."

"You seek to wound, Bianca. 'Even the parts about math' indeed."

"Just get your snacks, Enrique. And don't forget something for me, too. I hear the way to someone's heart is through their stomach."

"Then I shall get you something excellent."

I'd accept nothing less. Nothing less than excellent.