But then I make myself remember Fernando is my Dad’s old best friend, and to him, I’m probably just a little kid.
“Why don’t we go explore a little?” Fernando asks, putting his paper napkin on the table and holding up a hand to the waiter to bring over the check. “Have you been anywhere yet?”
“Only to where you found me,” I say, happy to be back on the topic of the city itself. I’ve been looking forward to this trip for a long time, and I’m so excited to get to know Barcelona. “I got in late last night, and after the exhaustion of the flight, I ended up not waking up until late. I headed out to explore and I got lost in all those stalls – that’s it.”
“Perfect,” Fernando says. He places a card on top of the bill without even asking me. “Then let’s go to La Rambla. No, don’t even think about getting your money out – this is my treat.”
I stop halfway through rifling through my purse, caught guilty as charged. “Thank you,” I say, then correct myself. “I mean, gracias.”
“You’re welcome,” Fernando smiles. “Now, let’s go!”
He leads me out of the café and back into the summer sun, so much warmer than I had expected in comparison to home. Before long, with his expert guidance, we find ourselves walking down a wide tree-lined boulevard, with benches available all along the street and restaurants, bars, and stores all beckoning from the sides. Between us and the benches are a number of stalls set up selling all manner of wares, from fresh fruit and vegetables to handcrafted items.
“Oh!” I exclaim, seeing a seller with a stall full of traditional-style dolls. “Aren’t they lovely? These mini ones would make great gifts.”
Fernando takes my arm subtly and steers me away. “Not that one,” he says. “They’re made in a factory. They just paint a little glitter on the face and mark up the price as handmade. Try this one over here – it’s authentic.”
The stall he shows me to is shabby and small, and I definitely wouldn’t have noticed it compared to the other one if he hadn’t pointed it out. But I can see what he means. The dolls are much more unique each time, painted with their own little faces and full of character. Much better souvenirs, and I’ll be able to support a local artisan this way instead of a big company.
We continue our stroll, stopping at various sellers along the way. I love the character here, the personality that seems to flood the very streets. It’s like nowhere I’ve ever been before, and yet of course there is that same thread of humanity through it all that still allows me to recognize familiar things. It’s cozy and comfortable, and I don’t want our tour to end.
I feel like I’m falling in love with Barcelona. And, just maybe, something else, too.
Which is why it’s such a shame that the evening begins to draw on, and I realize with a heavy heart that it won’t be long before Fernando has to go.
We come to the end of the street and I turn to him, reluctant to say it but knowing it’s the right thing. “Thank you for the tour,” I say. “I guess this is the end.”
And I desperately want him to say it isn’t – because the best part of the whole day has been bumping into him.
Chapter Five
Fernando
I look down at Ashley, and I know I don’t want this to be the end. Can I dare to hope that from the sound of her tone, she feels the same way? It must be lonely, being in a strange city, even if she doesn’t want to be with me just for my sake.
It would be the right thing to do, even if I was just her father’s old friend and didn’t think anything of her at all. It would be the right course of action. To look after her, make sure that she finds her way in a new city.
That’s what I tell myself to justify the fact that I can’t bear letting her go just yet.
“You don’t have a reservation for dinner, I take it?” I ask.
“No,” Ashley says, looking up in surprise. “I was just going to find somewhere near the hotel that looked nice and try it out.”
“Well, we can’t have that,” I tell her. “You need to try the real delights of Barcelona. I know all the best places. Why don’t you have dinner with me tonight? My treat, again. A welcome to our city.”
“You already bought me lunch,” Ashley says, wrinkling her nose and twisting on her feet, so adorably bashful. “I can’t let you do that again.”
“Trust me, you can,” I tell her with a grin. “One taste of this chef’s food and you won’t want to argue. He’s a good friend of mine, I can get us the best if I pay. Come on, it’s the least I can do to make your stay more enjoyable.”