I relax into him, which is starting to feel normal. I'm still in awe, and so happy, I wonder if I've ever felt this way. When we get to Hafnarfjörður, we walk around the marketplace. We visit lots of different shops, buying Christmas gifts for Melanie's family and Sebastian's.

For his sisters, mom, and Melanie, we decide to get skincare products and wool blankets. For the kids, we buy Icelandic candy, including licorice shoelaces, praline-peppermint chocolate, chocolate raisins, and chocolate Draumur, which in English means dream.

I hold the praline-peppermint chocolate in front of Sebastian, admitting, "You smell like praline."

He cocks his eyebrows. "I do?"

I inhale the scent of the candy. "You sure do."

"And this is a good thing?" he questions.

I admit. "It's a sexy, good thing."

His grin grows. "Well, I guess I won't change my cologne, then."

I warn, "Don't you dare!"

"Noted," he states with a chuckle.

We continue finding gifts, buying the little boys Viking books and toys. For the girls, we buy jewelry made from lava rock and some Icelandic dolls.

"Here we go," he booms, picking up a bottle of Icelandic alcohol.

"Are you into schnapps?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Not really, but when in Iceland..."

A sales clerk states, "Brennivín, or sometimes called Svarti dauði, is a distilled brand of schnapps. It's considered Iceland's signature liquor. It means black death."

"This will be perfect for my dad, brothers, and Greg," Sebastian claims.

I interject, "It sounds like a really bad hangover."

The sales clerk answers, "Sometimes."

Sebastian's face fills with mischief. He adds, "We'll have to see, won't we?"

"You're evil," I state, laughing. I turn to the cashier. "How do they make this?"

He replies, "It's from fermented potato mash, and we use caraway seeds to flavor it."

"Interesting," I say.

Sebastian leans close to my ear, questioning, "Are you also an alcohol connoisseur?"

I shake my head. "No, but ingredients interest me."

"Ah. I should have known."

I hold my hands in the air. "I'm an ingredient whore. What can I say?"

"Did you just call yourself a whore?"

"An ingredient one."

"Sunshine, you kill me." He chuckles. He turns to the clerk and points to several bottles. "We'll take four of each." Then he spins back toward me, announcing, "I'm getting hungry again. It's way past lunch. Want to go eat?"

The cashier points across the street. "They do craft beer tasting there, and the food is top notch."

"Great. Sounds perfect," I reply.

We check out, and Sebastian texts Helgi to pull up to the store. The clerk helps Helgi load the alcohol into the car, and Sebastian leads me across the street. We're seated in a booth and Sebastian slides next to me.

The server sets down a loaf of homemade bread and recommends a fish sampler. It includes cod, salmon, and haddock paired with dipping sauces.