WE SHARE A LAZY MORNING. Fuzzy slippers. Coffee. Crosswords. Banter. “Do you ever work?” I tease.

He smiles wide. “I work all the time,” he tells me. “Sixty hours a week sometimes.”

“You took the week off for me?”

He grins. “That’s the great thing about being your own boss. I can rearrange my schedule and take time off when I need to.”

My feet rest on his thighs and he’s toying with the ears of my doggie slippers. “Do you ever go on vacation?” I ask.

“Never.”

“All work and no play makes Eli a dull boy.”

He turns to me and smirks. “Oh, so you’re calling me dull now?”

“Oh, you’re anything but dull.”

I wish he were. Then maybe this wouldn’t be so hard. I know saying goodbye is going to be tough. It hurts just thinking about it.

We take Floyd for another walk. He’s a super friendly dog and commands attention every time we run into someone. It makes for quite a long walk. I can clearly see that Floyd means everything to Eli. He’s his baby. Eli loves him like I love my kids. “You two are adorable together.”

“Dynamic duo,” he says. “That’s us.”

“He’s sweet.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without him,” he admits. “I don’t have many people here. After the break-up, I lost most of my friends. There’s still my buddies, Trevor and Dave, but we don’t see each other often.”

“I’m sorry,” I offer. It seems like such a shame that someone as great as him wouldn’t have more friends.

“It’s fine,” he says. “They were never really my friends in the first place. They were Clara’s friends. I was always an outsider. I suppose that’s what it’s like when you move to a foreign country.”

“I can relate,” I tell him. “I mean, it’s not quite the same thing for me. But I’m originally from Brooklyn, and I moved away from all my friends and my family, to Vermont, to John’s hometown. He really sold it to me… quaint small town, family values, good schools, culture, blah blah blah. He didn’t need to coax me too much. But that’s what happened with me. My friends were his, my family was his, but thankfully I had my job. Yet I didn’t make any friends there because I was a Director, and no one wants to hang out with the boss after hours.”

“They obviously had no clue what they were missing,” he chimes in.

I smile. “Yeah, well anyway, I was lucky because I made friends with a few other moms, and I made these wonderful friends through this little journaling club I’m in.”

“That’s great,” he says. “You deserve friends.”

“And now… there’s you,” I add.

He smiles and pulls his gaze from mine — I don’t think he likes to think of us as ‘friends’. “So tell me about these lady friends.”

We’re walking briskly — we have no choice with Floyd in tow. My stride is fast, and I’m slightly out of breath. I realize that I’m a bit out of shape, and could probably use a dog too, if only it weren’t for John’s objections. “Well, there’s Maeve, who just got engaged. I’m one of her bridesmaids. I’ll be wearing a butter yellow dress.”

He grins. “I’m picturing it right now.” He closes his eyes. Thankfully, Floyd is leading him like a guide dog. “You’re gorgeous, and damn, that dress is low-cut. You’re cleavage is hot.”

I laugh. “Oh my god… you must have seen the dress. That’s exactly what it’s like. I’m positive I’m going to have a nip slip.”

“I need to go to this wedding,” he jokes.

I laugh again. “Maeve is a little ditzy sometimes, but the sweetest girl you’ll ever meet. She loves notebooks with kitty cats and puppies. She wears flowery dresses, cardigans, lots of polka-dots, funky socks, and has the cutest shoe collection I’ve ever seen. It’s like she’s stuck in a permanent child-like state, which is fitting because she’s a manager at a children’s clothing store. I think she actually gets some of her t-shirts and clothes there.”

“She sounds fun,” he says.

“She is,” I tell him. “And then there’s Corrie who’s brash and loud. She always tells you what’s on her mind. She used to be a paralegal but she’s a homemaker now, although I’m not sure how much homemaking she does because she has a cleaning lady, and no kids yet. She and her husband were trying, but they’re separated now. She dresses to the nines, and has the body for it too. She’s a tiny little blonde thing.”

“I prefer brunettes,” he chimes in with a grin.

I smile up at him. “And then there’s Kayla. She’s the mellow one, a mother earth type, a modern-day hippie. God, she would love Christiania. Anyway, she teaches yoga, and is also a massage therapist. She’s not one for relationships… she has a thing with a friend right now.”

He smiles. “A thing with a friend?”

“You know… friends with benefits,” I elaborate. “Kind of like us… except it’s not just a week for them, and he lives not too far, and not across an ocean.” I smile up at him, but he’s not smiling.

“So this journaling club… what do you all do, share diary entries?!” he asks, curious. He seems fascinated by the whole concept.

“Pretty much… journal entries, poetry,” I explain. “I feel like I can share anything with them. We’re pretty close. Once in a while, we’ll get a new member, and I won’t share anything too personal, but the new members always come and go. The four of us, we’re constant.”

“How many times do you meet?”

“Once a week,” I tell him. “It’s something I look forward to every week.” I pull out my phone and quickly scroll through my photos. I pick out my favorite selfie of the four of us. “That’s us.”

He smiles. “You girls look good together,” he says. “You’re lucky to have them.” His words are soft and there’s sadness in them. I know he’s happy for me, but I think he wishes he had that too.

“How ‘bout you. You really don’t have anyone?!”

He grins, but his smile is sorrowful. “Well, I have Floyd,” he says. “And Albert… but Albert’s gone most of the time. My friends Trevor and Dave… we go for a beer once in a blue moon. That’s about it.”

So sad. “How ‘bout back home? Anyone back home?”

“Well, there’s my sister, and a few friends I’ve lost touch with.”

He really has no one. “Well, all you need is a dog,” I say cheerfully, “and your health.”

“And one good friend,” he says, and shoots me a sweet smile.

God, I know I’m going to hurt him. I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to say goodbye. But I’ve made a promise to John. And above all else, John and the kids come first. God, I’m going to break this man’s heart. I want the ground to swallow me up whole.

He takes me on another ride on his gorgeous Vespa. It’s perfect — the wind in my hair, the fresh air, and the beautiful morning sun. Something about the whole thing makes me feel like I’m in one of those old-time romantic comedies, one of those black and white films starring Audrey Hepburn. Actually, I feel a little bit like Audrey Hepburn. I have the capris, stylish flats, and oversized sunglasses. All I need is a scarf.

He even lets me have a go at it. I go slow, afraid to crash his beloved scooter, and make a fool of myself. It’s a lot of fun. Again, for the millionth time, I feel like a kid. Everything feels new and like an adventure.

Everything tastes so good here too — the local foods with names I can’t pronounce, flavors I’ve never experienced. The open sandwiches are delicious, and the sauces on the burgers are definitely worth a try. We have sandwiches for lunch, but just the fact that they’re not typical fare makes them tastier.

I think that’s the fun thing about travel — for a week or so, or however long you go, you get to live so many new experiences, be immersed in a whole new world. Most of us repeat the same day over and over again, eat the same meals every month, see the same people day after day, and do the same old thing. Our life is like Groundhog Day. Maybe that’s the attraction with Eli. He’s something new — a bright unexpected stroke of color in a bland and grey predictable painting. Every day, he surprises me. And maybe that’s because I barely know him. Or maybe it’s because he’s something special.

After lunch, he plays a few tunes on his guitar for me. He doesn’t have the best singing voice, and his guitar skills are pretty basic, but I love it nevertheless. I make a few requests, and he obliges once or twice, but he only seems to know one or two lines of each song, mostly nineties tunes.

Then, we go downtown again. He knows I love sweets, and he says he absolutely needs to take me to this place. It’s a bit of a touristy spot, he says, but apparently, it’s worth the line-up.

Just the shop windows alone are worth the trek. I’ve never seen anything like it; towers of pastel colored macarons, the prettiest cupcakes I’ve ever seen, and the most exquisite cakes; works of art, all of them. I snap pictures with my phone. I’m totally Instagram-ing this. The place is hustling and bustling — a quaint little space with a Victorian flair. Tea cups and tea pots. The walls are pink and the carpet is green with flowers. It’s the place to be.

We have the hot chocolate, and it’s the best I’ve ever tasted. It’s basically pure melted chocolate. In America, hot chocolate is hot water with a dash of chocolate flavoring. In Denmark, it’s actually melted chocolate!

“I want to live here forever,” I tell him.

He laughs. “You should,” he says. It’s a joke. We both know it. I could never. I have a family back home. I’m stuck there forever. In Vermont. And I’m fine with that — I love it there too. I can make my own real hot chocolate at home. I wonder… what would life be like if I didn’t have John and the kids? Would I move out here to be with Eli? I would in a heartbeat. I know I would.

I study the beautiful angles of his face as he peruses the extensive dessert menu. “Are you in the mood for cake?”

The hot chocolate is filling enough. “No, I’m good. I won’t fit into any of my clothes if I keep indulging like this,” I tell him. “I feel like I’ve already gained ten pounds.”

He grins playfully. “You look perfect,” he says. “I love every curve.”

And with those words, he leaves me speechless, yet again.

We stroll and window shop. When I spot one of those fish spas, I go kind of wild. “I’ve always wanted to do this,” I tell him.

He doesn’t seem too enthusiastic. It’s one of those places where you stick your feet in an aquarium, and tiny fish nip at your toes. They bite off the dead skin apparently. It’s one of those weird things people do. I only want to do it because Kayla raved about it. Apparently she had her toes nipped in a cenote in Mexico once, and she couldn’t stop talking about how fun it was.

“Really?!” Eli says.

“Really,” I say. “Let’s do it. My treat,” I offer. So far, we’ve been sharing a lot of the costs of our outings. He sets out to pay, and I often stop him, and tell him I want to cover it. We argue, and end up going Dutch.

He laughs. “I’ll hate it.”

“I thought you were adventurous,” I tease. “I’ve gone along with everything so far.” I inch closer. “Remember… sex in the alley,” I whisper. “That was pretty scary.”

He bites his lip, remembering. “You loved every second of it.”

“That’s not the point.”

I finally convince him to do it. The spa is nice; cherry blossom trees, and floral decals on the walls, candles, and soft music. There are comfortable leather chairs, and in front of each one, there are aquariums on the floor filled with tiny fish.

Our coats and bags are taken, and we’re given flip flops; women’s 8 for me, and men’s 12 for him. We both take a seat on the comfy chairs. He’s sitting right across from me. He hesitates a few seconds, and then he dips his feet in very slowly.  His half-smile-half-wince is priceless. I follow suit. The water is pleasantly warm, and the fish get right to work. “It feels so weird.”

“It does,” he agrees.

“It tickles.”

The little nips take me by surprise, and make me laugh. This might be one of the silliest things I’ve ever done. I look over at Eli who has the biggest grin on his face, and I know he’s thinking the exact same thing.

I’m exhausted by dinner time. My feet feel so soft, and I decide to apply some fresh toe polish. Eli is making dinner again; flanked steak and potato salad. Every time he cooks, I tell myself that I could get used to this. He’s such a good cook, even better than me.

Following a really good dinner, he teaches me a few card games. Then we drink more wine while we listen to some of his records. The wine makes me sleepy, and I instantly regret it. It robs me of my time with him. We make love, sweet and slow. We get tangled up in the sheets, we laugh, and we kiss. It’s perfect. The only thing dragging us down is the knowledge that our time together is about to come to an end.