AN: Thank you for your reviews! I finished the rest of the story. Just a few more tweaks, so I'll probably be updating another chapter today. I wanted the actual days to coincide with the story, but I'm a few days behind. Nevertheless, this road trip is wrapping up!
I also want to say that our start of 2025 here in the US has been... rough, to say the least. My heart goes out to those affected by the fires in California, and I also want to say the same for New Orleans. I had their itinerary mapped out before the events that happened in LA. While not mentioned in the story, despite them being in the French Quarter, I just want to take the time out to say that it was such a horrible, senseless tragedy.
January 7th, 5:30 AM
El Vado Motel, Albuquerque, NM
The alarm blared far too early for my liking, dragging me out of the best sleep I'd had all trip. The previous day's chaos had left me exhausted, but there was something exciting about the idea of packing up and hitting the road again. Edward was already up, shuffling around the room with bedhead that I would've teased him about if I weren't so busy trying to drag myself upright.
"Breakfast first, then the road," he declared, handing me a steaming cup of motel coffee.
I took a sip, grimacing at the bitterness. "This is fucking awful."
He laughed, slipping on his shoes. "Good thing we're grabbing something better before we leave."
By the time we left Albuquerque, the sun was just starting to rise. We grabbed muffins and coffee from a local café, and with the Subaru humming along perfectly, the road stretched out before us. The day felt promising.
The adobe buildings of Santa Fe glowed warm and welcoming in the morning light. It was a stark contrast to the desert we'd been driving through, and I couldn't help but smile as we parked near the historic plaza. The streets were lined with market stalls, each one showcasing handcrafted goods that called out to me.
I was immediately drawn to a jewelry stand overflowing with turquoise pieces. The vendor, a woman named Sofia, was a vision of warmth and style, with silver hair that fell in a long braid down her back and layers of turquoise jewelry that jingled softly whenever she moved.
"Looking for something special?" she asked, her smile as radiant as the jewelry.
"I'm not sure," I said, running my fingers over a delicate necklace. "These are stunning."
"They are," Sofia said, leaning in conspiratorially. "Turquoise is a stone of protection. It balances energy and promotes healing. Very powerful."
Edward raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Balances energy?"
"Absolutely," Sofia said, her gaze sparkling with amusement. "It seems like your girlfriend already has great instincts. This one," she added, lifting a necklace with a small silver fish detail, "is perfect for her."
I blushed, glancing at Edward. "What do you think?"
"I think you're getting it," he said, pulling out his wallet before I could argue. "And I'll take one, too. We're matching now."
"A matching set!" Sofia said, beaming as she wrapped the necklaces. "That's true romance."
As we walked back to the car, I looked over at Edward, the turquoise pendant swinging gently from his neck. "Balanced energy, huh? Think it'll stop you from making bad jokes?"
He smirked, fastening the chain. "If anything, it might make me funnier."
"God help us all," I muttered, but I couldn't stop smiling.
January 7th, 12:27 PM
Texas Plains, Cadillac Ranch, Amarillo, TX
The Texas plains stretched endlessly ahead, a flat canvas of golden grass and vivid blue sky. When the rows of half-buried Cadillacs came into view, I sat up straighter in my seat, pointing.
"There it is," I said, excitement bubbling in my chest. "Cadillac Ranch. I've always wanted to see this."
Edward glanced out the window, a small grin tugging at his lips. "That's art?" he asked, his tone skeptical but amused.
"That's chaos," I corrected, already unbuckling my seatbelt as we pulled into the dirt parking area.
"Same thing," he said with a smirk, throwing the car into park.
We stepped out, the dry Texas heat wrapping around us like a blanket. A faint wind stirred the dust around our feet as we approached the installation. Up close, the Cadillacs were even more bizarrely beautiful than I'd imagined—covered in thick layers of paint, their vibrant colors clashing and overlapping in a riot of graffiti. The chipped, weathered surface told a story of countless visitors who had left their mark.
Edward squinted at the nearest car. "Looks like a unicorn threw up on it."
"Maybe it did," I said, bumping my hip against his. "Don't question art."
He chuckled, his arm brushing against mine as we wandered closer. A nearby vendor caught my eye, selling spray paint out of a cart. We each grabbed a can—mine red, his blue—and headed toward the line of cars.
As we debated where to start, a group of women decked out in matching bright pink "Girls Trip 2025" shirts approached us, chatting and laughing. Their leader, a bubbly woman with short blonde hair and a megawatt smile, waved us over.
"You two look like you know how to have fun!" she said, her Southern drawl warm and inviting. "I'm Tina. This is the rest of the chaos crew. What's your names?"
"I'm Bella," I said, smiling back. "This is Edward."
"Edward, Bella," she repeated, studying us with a discerning eye. "Y'all married?"
"Not yet," Edward replied smoothly, a hint of mischief in his voice.
"Well, damn, you better lock that down, girl," Tina said, pointing her spray can at me. "He's got that 'I'll build you a bookshelf and then carry you over the threshold' energy."
I snorted, while Edward let out a low chuckle. "Good to know I'm giving off wholesome vibes," he said.
"You two have to join us," Tina declared, ignoring his comment. "We're making art here—bold, beautiful, messy art."
"What should we paint?" I asked, shaking my can of red spray paint. The rhythmic clinking of the ball inside was oddly satisfying.
"Something bold!" Tina called over her shoulder, already heading back to her group. "And something that says something!"
I stepped up to one of the Cadillacs, the chipped and weathered surface alive with layers of color from past visitors. Tilting my head, I considered for a moment before carefully writing in sweeping, elegant letters:
"Every mile, every moment, ours."
Edward, standing behind me, tilted his head as he read it. A slow smile spread across his face. "That's... perfect."
I turned to him, my cheeks warming under his gaze. "Really?"
"Really," he said softly. "It's us."
"Damn!" Tina called from a few feet away, hands on her hips. "That's romantic as hell! I hope y'all are keeping a scrapbook or something. This deserves a page."
Edward stepped up to the next car, shaking his can of bright blue paint. "Hold on, I've got something to add," he said. With a focused expression, he doodled an elaborate pair of intertwined fish, swimming through swirling waves. Beneath it, in bold block letters, he wrote:
"Swim together, always."
I bit my lip, feeling an overwhelming warmth as I watched him step back to admire his work like he'd just painted the Sistine Chapel. "Behold," he said, gesturing with an exaggerated flourish.
Tina clapped, laughing. "You're a real Michelangelo of Cadillacs."
I was just about to hand my spray can back to the vendor when Edward smirked, shaking his head. "You missed a spot."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
"Hold still," he said, stepping closer. Before I could stop him, he aimed the can of bright blue paint at my arm and sprayed a small, uneven heart just above my elbow.
"Edward!" I shrieked, laughing as I jumped back, waving my red can in retaliation.
He held his hands up, feigning innocence. "It's art, Bella. You wouldn't understand."
"Oh, I understand perfectly," I said, grinning wickedly as I aimed my can. "Stay still. Payback's a bitch."
Before he could escape, I sprayed a tiny red fish on the front of his white T-shirt, laughing at his expression as he stared down at it.
"A fish?" he asked flatly, clearly unimpressed.
"Swimming together, always," I said sweetly, batting my lashes.
His exasperated groan turned into a laugh as he shook his head. "You're lucky I love you."
"I know," I said, my grin widening.
Tina and her group watched us with amused smiles. "Alright, you two lovebirds," she said, waving her phone. "Picture time! Let's capture this."
Edward grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the line of Cadillacs where everyone was gathering. At Tina's insistence, I climbed onto his shoulders for one of the pictures. He hoisted me up easily, his hands steadying my legs as I threw my arms into the air, laughing.
"Y'all are adorable. Smile!" Tina called out, snapping a picture of us. Edward tilted his head back slightly, his grin wide as I laughed above him, completely carefree.
"Okay, okay, one more," Tina said, waving us into a group shot. This time, Edward pulled me down, his arm looping around my waist as we stood among Tina and her friends. Everyone posed with their spray cans, flashing peace signs or goofy smiles.
We spent the next half hour chatting with Tina and her group, swapping road trip tips and taking pictures of our handiwork. Tina gave me a big hug as we said goodbye, promising to find us on Instagram to share the photos.
As Edward took my hand again, leading me back to the car, the sun dipped lower on the horizon, painting the Texas sky in fiery reds and oranges. I glanced at my paint-covered hands and arms, then at Edward, who still had the little red fish on his shirt, and felt a warmth spread through me.
Sliding into the passenger seat, I leaned back, playing with the turquoise pendant around my neck. "I love this," I said softly, almost to myself.
"The necklace?" Edward asked, glancing over.
"Everything," I said, gesturing vaguely. "The road trip. The weird stops. Even the random people we meet."
He smirked. "Even Wally and his vending machine wisdom?"
I laughed. "Okay, maybe not Wally. But everyone else? Yeah."
He reached over, lacing his fingers through mine. "I get it. It feels... special."
I nodded, squeezing his hand. "It really does."
The Texas sun dipped lower as we drove on, and I couldn't help but feel grateful—for the road, the stops, and most of all, for him.
January 7th, 5:07 PM
Canvas Hotel, Dallas, TX
By the time we rolled into Dallas, the city lights were starting to twinkle against the fading daylight. The Canvas Hotel was a sleek, modern gem tucked in the Cedars District, its industrial-chic vibe standing out against the surrounding skyline. The building had a distinct edge to it—exposed brick, big windows, and rooftop views that promised a stunning backdrop.
"This place is… fancy," I said as we pulled into the lot, taking in the trendy exterior.
"Only the best for the queen of Cadillac graffiti," Edward teased, flashing me a grin.
"I have a new skill, and you will respect it," I shot back, grabbing my bag as we headed inside.
The lobby was just as stylish as the outside—dim lighting, polished concrete floors, and curated art pieces that looked like they belonged in a museum. The front desk attendant welcomed us with a warm smile and handed over our keys.
"Your room has a great view of the skyline," she said, sliding the key cards across the counter. "And don't miss the rooftop bar—it's got the best sunset views in the city."
I looked at Edward, raising an eyebrow. "I feel underdressed for this level of cool."
He smirked. "You make it look effortless."
After dropping off our bags and freshening up, we headed out to Pecan Lodge, a barbecue joint Edward had read about. The smell of smoked meat hit us as soon as we walked in, making my stomach growl loudly enough to earn a chuckle from him.
"Did you even eat today?"
"Not enough to handle this level of amazing," I replied, eyeing the menu like it held the secrets to the universe.
We ended up with a tray piled high with brisket, ribs, sausage, mac and cheese, and jalapeño cornbread. The first bite was enough to make me groan in delight.
"Okay, this is fucking life-changing," I said, wiping sauce from the corner of my mouth.
Edward nodded, his mouth too full to respond. When he finally swallowed, he said, "We need to buy a smoker. Immediately."
"Or," I countered, "we just keep coming back here."
As we ate, we joked about our day. Edward couldn't stop teasing me about the spray-painted "Road Trips Rule!" on the Cadillac, claiming I'd officially become a graffiti artist.
"I'm just saying," he began, grinning as he tore into a rib, "if this road trip thing doesn't work out, you've got a future tagging underpasses."
I threw a crumpled napkin at him. "That's not graffiti. It was art."
"Sure it was, Banksy."
We both dissolved into laughter, the kind that makes your cheeks hurt, before finishing every last bite of barbecue on the tray.
Back at the hotel, our room was exactly what I'd hoped for—industrial yet cozy, with a massive window overlooking the Dallas skyline. The bed was piled high with crisp white linens, and the bathroom looked like it had been plucked from a luxury spa.
As we collapsed onto the bed, Edward sighed dramatically. "I think I need a brisket detox. And so do you, you gremlin."
"You're just mad because I ate the last piece," I said, kicking off my shoes and sprawling out beside him.
He rolled onto his side, propping his head on his hand. "No, I'm mad because you refused to admit my fish graffiti was better than your slogan."
"That wasn't graffiti. That was an elaborate doodle."
"Art," he corrected, poking me in the ribs until I squirmed away, laughing.
After a quick rest, we decided to check out the rooftop bar the front desk attendant had mentioned. The view was everything she promised and more. The Dallas skyline stretched endlessly, a symphony of glittering lights against the darkening sky. The rooftop had a cozy, intimate vibe, with fire pits casting a warm glow and string lights draped overhead, swaying gently in the evening breeze.
Edward headed to the bar and returned with two cocktails, handing me one with a small, playful smile. "Figured you'd want the one with a ridiculous garnish," he said, nodding at the bright orange twist and sprig of mint in my glass.
"You know me so well," I teased, taking a sip. The drink was sweet, tart, and just strong enough to feel indulgent.
We found a quiet corner with a view of the city, sinking into the plush chairs as the hum of distant conversations and soft laughter created a relaxing backdrop. For a while, neither of us spoke. We just sat there, sipping our drinks and taking in the sight of the city coming alive. The air felt electric yet soothing, a blend of the bustling energy below and the serene atmosphere of the rooftop.
"This feels unreal," I finally said, breaking the comfortable silence.
Edward turned to me, his green eyes soft. "This trip, or this view?"
I smiled. "Mmm… both. You."
His expression shifted and he leaned closer, brushing a feather-light kiss against my temple, his lips lingering. "I love you," he murmured
I felt the words settle over me, warm and unwavering, like they'd been etched into the air between us. "I love you," I replied softly.
January 8th, 6:03 AM
Canvas Hotel, Dallas, TX
The morning came way too early, as it always seemed to on this trip. But the promise of New Orleans had me practically bouncing as we packed up the car. Edward, on the other hand, shuffled around like a grumpy zombie until his first sip of coffee.
"I'll drive first," he mumbled, stifling a yawn as he tossed the last bag into the trunk. "You navigate."
"You just want to subject me to your weird driving playlist," I teased, grabbing his phone to check what horrors awaited. "I swear, if there's anything with bagpipes—"
"Touch the playlist, and I'll leave you on the side of the road," he warned, shooting me a sleepy smirk as he slid into the driver's seat. "You're just mad because deep down, youlovethe bagpipes."
"Deep down, I'd rather be eaten by alligators," I muttered, but I couldn't keep the grin off my face as he cranked up the music. To my surprise, it started with Is This Love by Bob Marley. "Okay, this I'll allow."
He raised an eyebrow. "Told you my taste was impeccable."
The first two hours passed in a blur of highway signs, coffee refills, and debates over whether armadillos were cute or terrifying roadkill (I said cute; Edward said they were "creepy possums in armor"). By mid-morning, we rolled into Shreveport, starving and ready for something good.
"Okay, according to this article," Edward said, squinting at his phone, "we have to eat at Mama Lou's Diner. It's apparently legendary."
"Legendary how?" I asked. "Do they serve food, or just let you bask in the aura of its greatness?"
"Let's find out," he said with a grin, pulling into the parking lot of a tiny, weathered building with a flickering neon sign that buzzed faintly overhead. The smell of spices and something fried hit us the second we opened the car doors, and I nearly floated inside on the scent alone.
The interior was like stepping into the set of a Southern sitcom—checkered tablecloths, old-school booths, and faded photos of smiling diners pinned haphazardly to the walls. A jukebox in the corner hummed quietly, playing some twangy country ballad. Behind the counter, a woman in a floral apron with silver curls piled high on her head was ladling gumbo into bowls like she was orchestrating a masterpiece.
"You must be Mama Lou," I said, flashing a smile as we approached.
She turned, sizing us up with a sharp, knowing look. "Depends. You here to eat, flirt, or cause trouble?"
"Mostly eat," Edward said, leaning against the counter with an easy grin. "But I'll flirt if it gets us extra biscuits."
Mama Lou let out a bark of laughter, her eyes twinkling. "Sit your skinny asses down, and I'll see what I can do."
We slid into a booth, the cracked vinyl seats creaking under us. Minutes later, she appeared with two steaming bowls of gumbo and a side of cornbread so golden it could've been in an ad for butter commercials.
"One bite, and if you don't like it, you're officially banned from Louisiana," she said, setting the bowls down.
"High stakes," I said, picking up my spoon.
"Life's too short for low stakes, sugar," she shot back.
The gumbo was a revelation—rich, spicy, and layered with so many flavors I briefly considered asking Mama Lou to adopt me. Edward's groan of satisfaction as he took his first bite was borderline indecent.
"This is—holy shit," he said, staring at his bowl like it held the secrets of the universe. "I might cry."
Mama Lou smirked, hands on her hips. "That's the reaction I like to see. Now, what's your story? Where y'all headed?"
"New Orleans," I said between bites. "Road-tripping our way through the South."
Mama Lou nodded approvingly. "Good. But let me tell you, girl, you're too skinny to say you're touring Louisiana. You need more cornbread." She plunked an extra plate of it on our table without asking.
"I think I've gained five pounds since this trip started," I said, laughing.
"Good!" she declared, pulling me into a surprise bear hug that nearly knocked the gumbo out of my hands. "You'll leave happy, that's all that matters."
Edward, meanwhile, took the opportunity to sneak an extra piece of cornbread while she wasn't looking. I caught him mid-bite and kicked him under the table.
"Stealing from Mama Lou?" I hissed. "You have no soul."
"Hey, she said I was too skinny," he said around a mouthful of bread. "I'm just following orders."
By the time we left, we were stuffed to the brim, carrying a to-go box of beignets Mama Lou had insisted we try.
"Don't forget to tell New Orleans Mama Lou says hi!" she called as we walked out the door.
Edward turned back, tipping an imaginary hat. "We'll spread the word."
As we climbed into the car, I sighed contentedly. "If this is what every meal in Louisiana is like, I might never leave."
"Same," Edward said, popping a piece of leftover cornbread into his mouth. "But just so you know, I'm blaming you when we both end up in food comas before we even get to New Orleans."
"Worth it," I said, leaning back in my seat with a grin. And honestly, I meant it.
January 8th, 4:16 PM
New Orleans, LA, French Quarter
The energy of New Orleans hit us the moment we crossed into the city. The French Quarter was a kaleidoscope of color and sound, the air alive with music, laughter, and the tantalizing scent of beignets and spices wafting from every direction. As we parked the car and wandered hand-in-hand down the cobblestone streets, I couldn't stop marveling at the ornate wrought-iron balconies dripping with greenery and the brightly painted shutters that seemed to whisper stories of decades past.
"This is it," I said, squeezing Edward's hand. "This is officially the coolest place I've ever been."
He grinned, his eyes taking in the chaos around us. "I mean, it's okay if you're into charm and personality and, you know, fun."
"Oh, so not your thing at all," I teased, nudging him. "You're more into boring suburbia."
"I am a man of mystery and intrigue, Swan," he replied, deadpan. "Don't box me in."
Before I could respond, the sound of a saxophone cut through the air, smooth and rich, stopping me in my tracks. Just ahead, a crowd had gathered around a man in a crisp white shirt and suspenders, his saxophone gleaming in the sunlight as he played a soulful rendition of La Vie en Rose.
"We have to stay and listen," I said, tugging Edward closer.
"Obviously," he replied, letting me pull him. "That guy's wearing suspenders. This is about to be incredible."
We found a spot near the front, and the musician—Andre, according to the chalkboard sign propped up beside his tip jar—caught my eye, offering a sly smile before transitioning seamlessly into a jazzy love song. I felt Edward's arm slip around my waist, his thumb rubbing small circles against my hip as we listened. The music was so smooth, so heartbreakingly beautiful.
"Okay, I'm crying," I whispered, not even trying to hide the lump in my throat.
When Andre finished, the crowd erupted into applause. I slipped a twenty-dollar bill into his tip jar, and he gave me a warm, toothy grin.
"For your wedding?" he asked with a wink, his accent rich and melodic.
I burst out laughing, nudging Edward with my elbow. "What do you think? Live jazz for the big day?"
Edward tilted his head, pretending to ponder. "Only if Andre's free—and willing to wear the suspenders."
Andre laughed, clearly enjoying the banter. "Suspenders are non-negotiable. But I'll throw in a second-line band if you promise me cake."
"Done," I said. "But only if you play Careless Whisper at some point."
Andre raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "You have questionable taste, ma'am, but for you, I'll make an exception."
"Careless Whisper?" Edward echoed, his tone dripping with faux disgust. "Bella, you can't ask a jazz legend to play Careless Whisper. That's a crime."
"It's a classic," I shot back, crossing my arms. "I don't make the rules."
Andre chuckled, switching gears and launching into a sax-heavy riff on Careless Whisper that sent the crowd into a fit of laughter. Edward groaned, but I could tell he was trying not to smile.
"Fine," Edward said, pulling me closer and spinning me into a mock slow dance right there on the street. "If you're going to subject me to this, we might as well embrace it."
The crowd clapped and cheered as we swayed dramatically, Edward twirling me like we were auditioning for Dancing with the Stars. When the song ended, I curtsied exaggeratedly, and Edward bowed like a court jester, both of us laughing so hard we could barely stand.
Andre shook his head, his eyes twinkling. "Y'all are somethin' else."
"Yeah, well, you bring it out of us," Edward said, slipping a few more bills into the jar. "Thanks for the show, Andre."
Andre tipped his hat, a king of cool in every sense. "You two come back anytime. And don't forget—you owe me cake."
As we walked away, Edward laced his fingers through mine, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "So, suspenders and jazz for the wedding, huh?"
"Obviously," I said, leaning into him. "But only if you wear suspenders too."
He groaned dramatically. "Fine. But only if you promise me no Careless Whisper during the first dance."
I laughed, pulling him closer. "No promises, Cullen. No promises."
The idea hit me as we strolled through the French Quarter, the air alive with jazz and laughter, and the streets lined with wrought-iron balconies and bursts of colorful flowers. I stopped mid-step, gripping Edward's hand. "Oh my God, we have to do the Gracie Abrams TikTok trend here."
He gave me a wary look, one eyebrow raising in question. "Is this one of those things where I embarrass myself in public for your entertainment?"
I grinned. "Exactly. And you're going to love it."
"Doubtful," he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was already resigning himself to whatever ridiculousness I had planned.
"It's easy!" I said, pulling up the trend on my phone. "We just lip-sync a few lines while walking through these gorgeous streets. The vibe will be amazing."
He sighed dramatically, but I could see the amusement in his eyes. "Fine. But if I'm doing this, I'm going all in."
"Oh, don't worry. I wouldn't expect anything less," I teased.
It took a couple of minutes to choreograph our parts and a few false starts (mostly because I couldn't stop laughing at how over-the-top Edward was during his verse), but by the time we wrapped, and after nearly falling on my ass trying to walk backwards, we had nailed it. The video captured the playful chaos of us—full of exaggerated facial expressions and dance moves, that somehow we managed to get through with mostly straight faces.
Edward was cackling by the time I handed him the phone. "Your dancing was almost impressive," he said. "But I'm pretty sure I outshined you."
"Let's watch the playback, shall we?" I replied, grinning as we huddled over the phone.
The video started, and we both fell silent, watching our antics unfold. The sunlight hit perfectly on the cobblestone streets, the wind cooperated for maximum hair drama, and our lip-syncing was absurdly spot-on.
"The wind was a paid actor," I declared as my hair flipped perfectly in the opening verse. "What do you think?"
He didn't say anything at first, just watched the video, a soft smile spreading across his face. When he finally looked up, his eyes were so full of warmth it made my heart skip. "You're amazing, you know that?"
I felt my cheeks heat. "Stop looking at me like that and tell me if the video's good."
"It's perfect," he said simply, pulling me in for a kiss.
Still buzzing from our TikTok victory, Edward and I wandered deeper into the French Quarter, the streets alive with vibrant energy. The jazz bands and street performers provided an effortless soundtrack to our adventure, while the balconies dripping with flowers and brightly colored doors created the perfect backdrop for photos.
"Stand there," Edward said, pointing to a teal-painted door with intricate ironwork framing it. "It's very… you."
"Me?" I teased, raising an eyebrow as I stepped into position. "What does that even mean?"
"It's striking, unique, and you can't walk past it without noticing it," he said with a smirk, his phone already up and ready to snap a picture.
I laughed, rolling my eyes. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Cullen."
"Good," he quipped. "Now give me something dramatic. Like you're pondering life, or about to break into song."
I struck an exaggerated pose, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe and staring off into the distance with a wistful expression. "Is this dramatic enough for you, or do I need a fainting couch?" I asked, stifling a grin.
Edward snapped the photo, then lowered his phone, his lips twitching into a smile. "Perfect. You look like you're auditioning for a soap opera."
"My dream," I deadpanned. "Now your turn. Go over there by that saxophonist."
He groaned, shaking his head. "Why do I feel like this is a trap?"
"Because it is," I said sweetly. "Go."
Edward ambled over to where a street musician was playing a soulful tune. The saxophonist gave him a curious glance as Edward struck a ridiculous pose, pretending to play an invisible saxophone. I snapped the picture just as the musician raised an eyebrow, his expression equal parts amusement and judgment.
"Got it," I said, grinning as Edward returned. "You're a natural. Really captured the tortured jazz artist vibe."
"Clearly," he replied dryly, slipping his arm around my waist. "Now, let's get one together."
We returned to the teal door, and Edward balanced my phone on a nearby ledge, fiddling with the angle until it was just right. "The timer's on. Come here," he said, pulling me close.
I leaned into him, smiling as the timer counted down. "Say something to make me laugh."
Without hesitation, he whispered in my ear, "Your TikTok lip-syncing is hotter than your morning bedhead."
I burst into laughter just as the camera clicked, the sound spilling out of me so naturally that Edward grinned even wider. When we checked the photo, it was perfect—me mid-laugh, my eyes alight with joy, and Edward looking at me like I was the most incredible thing he'd ever seen.
"We're keeping this one," I said, smiling softly.
"One more," he said, adjusting the timer again. This time, he turned to me as the camera clicked, his hand cupping my jaw as he kissed me deeply. The world around us faded—just us, the gentle press of his lips, and the warmth of his touch.
When the photo snapped, we didn't pull away immediately. Instead, Edward leaned his forehead against mine, his green eyes catching mine in a way that made my heart stutter. "I don't care where we are," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "As long as it's with you."
I swallowed the lump in my throat, a soft smile tugging at my lips. "You're such a sap."
"But you like it," he teased, brushing his thumb over my cheek.
I laughed softly, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Yeah, I do."
We checked the final picture together, our foreheads touching in the shot, with the vibrant colors of the French Quarter softly blurred behind us. It was perfect—authentic, full of warmth and love. I saved it immediately.
"Okay, last one," I said, holding up my phone to take a selfie. I leaned close, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek as I snapped it. "For my personal stash."
Edward smirked, wrapping his arm tighter around me. "Let's take ten more for your 'stash.' I want proof I can be Instagram boyfriend material."
"Relax, Cullen," I said, laughing as I snapped another photo of his ridiculous smirk. "You're already verified in my book."
We stayed there for what felt like hours, taking silly selfies, sharing quiet moments, and simply reveling in each other's presence. The magic of New Orleans was undeniable, but in those moments, the real magic was just being with Edward—silly, charming, and endlessly mine.
January 8th, 7:23 PM
Café du Monde, New Orleans, LA
After wandering through the French Quarter for a few hours, we ended the evening exactly how I'd dreamed—seated at a small, wrought-iron table at Café du Monde, powdered sugar blanketing our beignets like fresh snow. The warm café au lait steamed in its white mug, the sweet smell mingling with the vibrant buzz of the city around us.
"To our last night on the road," Edward said, raising his mug in a mock toast. The warm light from the streetlamps glinted off his green eyes, making them look impossibly softer.
I clinked my mug against his, powdered sugar smudging my hand as I laughed. "And to not killing each other after a week in the car."
"Speak for yourself," Edward quipped, taking a sip of his coffee. "I'm a delight."
I rolled my eyes, tearing off a piece of a beignet and tossing it in his direction. He caught it mid-air with an exaggerated chomp, grinning at me with powdered sugar dusting the corner of his mouth.
"You have something…" I gestured to his face, laughing as he wiped at the wrong side.
"Here?" he asked, grinning wider when he saw my expression.
"No, here," I said, leaning across the table to swipe the sugar off his lip with my thumb. His smile softened as I pulled back, the playful glint in his eye replaced with something warmer, more lingering.
"Ready to head to the hotel?" he asked softly, his voice low.
I nodded, my heart already skipping ahead to the privacy of our hotel room.
The walk to Hotel Monteleone was leisurely, both of us soaking in the city's charm one last time. The iconic building stood tall against the night sky, its golden sign glowing warmly above the entrance. Inside, the lobby was a world of elegance—gilded fixtures, plush carpets, and chandeliers casting soft light over marble floors.
Our room, perched high above the city, was equally breathtaking. The large windows offered a stunning view of the French Quarter, the lively streets below twinkling with light. The room itself was timelessly elegant, with a king-sized bed dressed in crisp white linens and a faint scent of lavender in the air.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind us, the city's noise faded, leaving only the gentle hum of the room. Edward dropped our bag onto the bench at the foot of the bed, stretching his arms over his head. "Not bad for a last stop," he said, his voice casual, but his eyes already locked on me with that familiar heat.
I kicked off my shoes, padding across the room to the window. "The view is incredible," I murmured, staring out at the glittering lights below.
Edward's footsteps were soft as he approached me, his arms sliding around my waist from behind. He rested his chin on my shoulder, his voice low in my ear. "Not as incredible as you."
I tilted my head, laughing softly. "Are you seriously breaking out the lines right now?"
"Maybe," he said, his lips brushing lightly against my neck. "But only because they're true."
The warmth of his breath sent a shiver down my spine. I turned in his arms, my hands sliding up to his chest. "You're so fucking corny, you know that?"
"And yet you can't resist me," he teased, his smirk softening as his fingers trailed gently along my jawline.
He leaned in, his kiss slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. My hands moved to his shoulders, then up into his hair, pulling him closer as his arms tightened around my waist. The kiss deepened, the energy shifting from playful to something more urgent, more consuming.
Edward pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against mine. "I love you," he murmured, his voice low and unsteady.
My chest tightened at the raw sincerity in his voice. "I love you," I whispered back, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw.
He kissed me again, this time guiding me backward toward the bed. The edge hit the backs of my knees, and I sank onto the soft mattress, pulling him with me. His weight settled over me, his kisses growing hungrier as his hands explored, leaving a trail of warmth everywhere they touched.
We moved together slowly, unhurried but intense, savoring every moment like it was our first and last all at once.
Moments later, we lay tangled in the sheets, the moonlight casting a silvery glow over the room. Edward's hand traced lazy patterns on my bare shoulder as I rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
"I don't want this road trip to end," I murmured, my voice heavy with sleep.
Edward pressed a kiss to my hair, his arms tightening around me. "Neither do I. But at least we have one more day."
"And then real life," I said with a sigh.
"Yeah," he agreed softly. "But real life with you? I think I can handle that."
I smiled against his chest, my eyes slipping shut as his words lulled me to sleep. In that moment, with the warmth of him surrounding me and the city's lights twinkling faintly outside, everything felt exactly right.