Madrid is everything I always thought it would be and more. It’s gorgeous, vibrant and fun. Except that Cameron isn’t here. And try as I might— which I’ve been doing, very, very hard— I can’t get him out of my mind.

I came here to try to forget him. Since he no longer wanted me at his firm— or as his “office whore”— and since I sold my app and have money to travel, I figured there was no better time than to come to the place I’ve always wanted to come.

But now all I can think about is how much I want him. I just want him to touch me one more time. To look at me. To talk to me. To kiss me. To fuck me.

It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen him. And I’ve been here for a week. Right now, I’m at an Internet café but I’m supposed to go to a discoteca with some friends I met at an international coding meetup when I first got here. I don’t really feel like going, though.

Nor do I want to go back to the hostel where I’m staying. Although I have enough money to stay at a nice hotel, I had always envisioned “roughing it” when I imagined this trip to Madrid and so now I feel compelled to make reality match up to the fantasy I had pictured in my head.

Except, reality is never as good as fantasy. Except for when I was with Cameron, of course, and that’s no longer the case. Now, the hostel I’m staying at is crowded, rather stinky and doesn’t even have basic amenities such as WiFi— hence my need for the Internet café.

I’m a programmer, I think. Why the hell didn’t I think ahead to make sure the place I was staying at had Internet access?

I trudge through the streets, trying to decide whether to just go to another movie. The Conde Duque cinema has been showing marathon old school Pedro Almodovar movies and I’d love to catch another one. That would probably make more sense than hanging out at a discoteca until it closes at six a.m. and my new friends finally want to go home, which is what I already did the other night.

Great, now it’s starting to rain.

I decide to duck into La Cocina de mi Vecina café, for a few different reasons. I want to escape the rain, I need a WiFi connection again so I can check the movie showing times, and of course I absolutely must have some churros and hot chocolate. This café is everything I’d hoped it would be and more, and I can’t get enough of their food.

But as soon as I step inside, the owner of the shop starts going crazy.

“Ruby! Ruby!” he cries, waving his hands at me as if he’s much further away than he is.

I trudge up to the counter, perplexed about why he would he be so excited to me. Sure, I’ve come here every day since I arrived about a week ago and we’ve chatted— he’s friendly— but nothing more. My Spanish isn’t even good enough to converse in full sentences, although it’s better already, just from being around Spanish-speaking friends more often.

“Hi Carlos,” I say in my bad Spanish, meeting him at the cash register. “What’s up?”

“Someone is looking for you,” he says, his hands gesturing widely. “A gentleman caller.”

As he says this he raises his eyelashes and bats his eyes, teasingly.

“Very funny,” I tell him, doing my best to ignore him.

“No. Really. Wait. He told me to give you this phone number if I see you.”

Who could possibly want to see me in Madrid? Barely anyone knows me here. And no one back home even knows I’m here.

He disappears to the back and then he re-appears with a ripped-off piece of paper. He smiles proudly. “Here you go.”

I look down at the handwriting and what is written on it and nearly faint.

Dear Ruby,

I’m sorry. I came all the way here to find you. Please wait right where you are and ask Carlos to call me.

Love,

Cameron

PS Even if you don’t ask Carlos to call me, he will.

“What the…?”

I look up at Carlos’ proud, still smiling face.

Apparently he was lying about having a number to give me. He had a different trick up his sleeve.

“I called Mr. Sanchez while I was in the back,” he reports. “He says to stay right here. He is so happy. And I am so happy for you. You seem like you make a very happy couple.”

Just wait until you see how old he is, I think. I don’t know if May/ December romances are very big in Madrid.

I’m stunned that Cameron would come all the way here to find me. I can’t believe he still wants to be with me.

“Can I get some churros while I wait?” I ask Carlos, and we both burst out laughing.

“Of course. It’s on the house.”

I’m in Madrid. I’m going to see Cameron. I sold my app for a lot of money.

As Carlos brings me the churros, I can’t believe my good fortune.

It’s like the best of everything I’d ever dreamed of, all wrapped up into one. The old me never had good things happen to her. But the new me seems to get everything I want. Correction, Ruby Mansfield seems to get everything she wants.

I still can’t believe any of this is happening to me. And the reason for that is probably because it’s not happening to me—it’s happening to Ruby. The person I invented, to make my dreams come true, and to whom all of that and more has actually happened.

Still, even though I orchestrated it, I can’t believe it.

And I can’t believe how good this churros is.

But most of all, I can’t wait to see Cameron. And to find out what he has in mind to do with me. Especially after he learns the truth about who I really am.