The Romantic Pact (Kings of Football)(16)

“Hello,” I say, not quite confident enough to throw down a Guten morgen as well.

“M?chten Sie einchecken?” the attendant asks.

“Um. I’m checking in. Name is Crew Smith.”

The attendant’s eyes light up. “Ah, yes, the front desk has been expecting you. Let me help you with your luggage.”

Someone else helps Hazel out of the car, and our luggage is put on a luggage cart. “Oh, we can handle that.”

“No. We are here to take care of you. My name is Elias. Allow me to show you to check in.”

Hazel joins me at my side and we both walk into a gray building with windows extending up to the roof, a combination of modern and old-century architecture. In the distance, Christmas music plays, and the chill in the air reminds me that I’m not in California anymore. Thank God I brought a winter coat.

When we cross the threshold of the hotel, we’re greeted by a festive lobby. Pine garland is beautifully draped along the walls with glass baubles hanging precariously throughout the garland. The lobby is sleek with dark gray tones and underlighting that highlights the sharp edges of the front desk. Modern, sophisticated—something I never would have assumed Pops would pick for us.

“Guten morgen,” the hotel attendant says.

“Berdine, this is the Smith party.”

Berdine’s eyes light up as well, and she says, “We have been anticipating your arrival.” From behind her, she grabs a small package and sets it on the counter in front of us. “We were told to hand this over to you when you arrived. We already have a card on file. I will just need a form of identification.”

I fish my wallet out of my pocket and remove my ID.

“Ah, from California. I’ve been once. Quite lovely. Is this Mrs. Smith?” Berdine asks, directing her attention to Hazel, who snorts and shakes her head.

“Oh no, I’m Hazel Allen. Friends. Just friends.”

Sheesh, could she sound more insulted?

“Ah, my apologies.” Berdine types away at her computer and then says, “Elias. Room 410 please.” Elias nods and takes off with our luggage. After a few more seconds, Berdine says, “You will be staying with us for one night, it seems.”

“Honestly, we have no clue.” I laugh. “This whole trip is a surprise.”

“What a wonderful way to spend your holiday. On a whim, as they would say.” Looking between us, she asks, “How many keycards would you like?”

“One should be fine, right?” I ask Hazel.

“Yeah, don’t plan on going anywhere without the big guy.” She thumbs toward me.

“Great.” Berdine makes a keycard for us and then hands me my ID before explaining the amenities of the hotel. “Our kitchen is open for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We’ve quite a list of wines, if you’re interested. Just outside the hotel is the Marienplatz, also known as St. Mary’s Square. It’s full of vendors right now for the Christmas Market. Stalls line the space and are filled with holiday treats and souvenirs. We have a concierge if you have questions about the area.” She hands me a card. “You’re on the fourth floor, room 410. The room overlooks the Marienplatz and Alter Peter. It’s quite breathtaking. Take the elevators up to the fourth floor and then make a right. You’ll find your room quite quickly. Do you have any questions?”

I shake my head and Hazel does the same. “Thank you so much,” I say.

“Of course. We hope you enjoy your stay, and if you need anything, please let us know.”

I smile and then we head to the elevator bank, where we press the up button.

Leaning in, Hazel says, “I honestly wasn’t expecting a hotel like this. I half-expected a shack with plaid wallpaper.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, me too. I wasn’t aware Pops even knew swanky hotels existed, given all the beaten-down cabins I’ve stayed in with him.” The elevator arrives with a ding, and we hop in and press the button for the fourth floor.

“Not going to lie—I’m tired and it’s only ten-thirty in the morning.” Hazel yawns.

“Yeah, I don’t think jetlag is going to be our friend, but I heard we have to power through, not give in to wanting to sleep during awake hours.”

“I read the same thing.”

The elevator dings and the doors open. It takes us a few seconds to find our room, and when we do, Elias is waiting by the door. He smiles as we approach.

“Your luggage is in your room. Please let us know if you need anything else.” I reach for my wallet, but he holds up his hand. “No need to tip, Mr. Smith. Enjoy your stay.” He pushes open the door and Hazel walks in first.

“Oh, wow,” she says on a hushed breath.

Oh, wow is right.

Panoramic views of the beautiful Munich architecture greet us, and it’s what I’m drawn to first. Across the square, there’s an opulent cathedral with gothic-style pinnacles and corbels decorating the front. You don’t find these in America, especially in California. Below is a widespread marketplace, every last inch covered by white tent tops and contrasting green garlands. Christmas lights are strung along the space. It must be a beautiful place to walk through at night.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like this,” Hazel says, one hand pressed against the window. “It’s gorgeous. Do you think Pops has been here?”