“I mean it, Gabriella,” he says, his words not quite broken but cracked a bit. “I want you to be happy. I want you to go back to your beautiful family, and love your life. I don’t want you to forget me completely, but I do want you to forget me a little. Think of this week as just a fabulous week, the kind of week most people never experience, and think of our friendship as something that was just what you needed when you were going through a hard time. Think of us as an amazing chapter in your life, but now you need to turn the page on us.”
My heart sinks. “I don’t want to turn the page on us.”
“It’s what you promised,” he reminds me. “Do it for your family.”
He’s right. I know he is. I need to get myself together. This is over. The sooner I face that, the better. I pull away, even though every cell in my body wants to cling to him. “You’re right,” I say. “Everything you said… we were perfect together, and I’ll always remember you, but we both need to move on. I want you to be happy too, Eli. If anyone deserves happiness, it’s you. I know you’ll fall in love again.”
He shoots me a sweet smirk. “If I ever get out of the studio.”
I laugh. “Yes, you need to get out of the studio.”
“Promise me you’ll never stop painting,” he says.
“I promise. You too.”
He smiles. “I promise.”
“I’ll probably stalk you,” I admit. “I’ll see all your beautiful paintings. All of them.”
He laughs. “Me too. I’ll probably stalk you too, until the day I die.”
I bite my lip. “Bye, Eli.”
“Bye, Gabriella.”
My gaze clings to his as I walk away. His expression breaks me — he looks so wrecked. I can’t let him go as the distance grows between us.
I bump into a small elderly woman. I apologize profusely, and turn to see Eli laughing at me. This little adventure has come full circle, and it ends just like it started, with me almost knocking over a little old lady.
I wave goodbye, and I don’t look back. I want to remember him just like that. I want to remember his smiling eyes, his beautiful face, and most of all, his laugh.
Part Four
Chapter Thirty-Nine
THE FLIGHT BACK HOME IS LONG. I can’t focus long enough to read a book or watch a movie on my tablet. I don’t eat a thing. I doze off once or twice, and I rearrange the photos on my phone in folders. There’s a young mother and baby boy sitting next to me, but thankfully he’s an angel. Big brown eyes study me curiously, and I shoot him a few smiles. He usually grins in return. He is precious, and reminds me of Emma when she was this age. That seems like an eternity ago now.
My mind is full of Eli. I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that we’ll never see each other again, never speak to each other again. I play my ‘sad love songs’ mix on my phone — Adele’s heartbreaking voice brings me back there, to Copenhagen. I remember our time together, but not the big things, not the boat tour or the walks in town, not Nyhavn… none of that. I only remember the small moments; him painting my toe nails, stealing potato wedges, teaching me how to ride his scooter, cooking together, playing Scrabble, kissing up high in the sky at Tivoli Gardens, watching movies, and cuddling with Floyd on his big comfy bed. I also remember the things that make my heart ache the most; the feel of his mouth on my skin and his arms around me, his soft words in my ear, and those amazing eyes.
When we finally land, I’m completely spent. I follow the crowd to baggage claim. I wait patiently and watch people scramble to get their bags. I’m tired but I’m in no hurry. I still feel numb.
I catch a glimpse of Emma and Theo, and my heart skips — I’ve missed them so much. They run in my direction, huge smiles all around. I bend to take them in my arms. I hold them tightly and never want to let them go. As great as my week was, nothing beats this — nothing beats being with my kids. My eyes fill with tears as I realize how much they’ve missed me. I’ve been so selfish, I now realize. “I’m never leaving you again.”
“Did you have fun?” Emma asks. “Do you have lots of pictures?”
“Did you bring us souvenirs and treats?” Theo is quick to ask.
John laughs. “Theo, that’s a bit rude.”
I pinch Theo’s sweet little cheeks. “Let me look at you.” He looks more and more like his father every day.
John plants a soft kiss on my cheek. “Welcome back.”
He grabs my suitcase and before long, we’re on our way to our car. The kids are curious and want to know everything.
When we get home, we order some Chinese take-out, and I tell them all about my trip — noteverythingabout my trip, obviously. I leave out all the small moments, the special moments. I pretty much leave Eli out of it — it’s like he was never even there. The kids are still young, and not the age to ask,so what about that friend you were with? What’s his deal?Thank god I don’t have teenagers on my hands.
I tell them about the beautiful colors of Nyhavn, Tivoli Gardens, theLittle Mermaid, Christiania, Paper Island, the stunning architecture, and the food. I also go on about all the cool bistros, and the shopping. I show them photos from a special folder I’ve put together — basically I’ve removed all photos of Eli — they don’t need to see him, and neither does John. I know John and I are never going to speak about this trip again. We’ll pretend it never happened. And the kids will vaguely remember the time when Mommy went on a trip all by herself to Denmark to take some pictures she could use as inspiration for her paintings.
