TRAFFIC CIRCLES AROUND AVENUES WITH statues and plazas and crowds. The city, loud and bustling, settles her mind. She barely notices when the cabdriver leaves at The Majestic, and stands in awe in front of the hotel across from Casa Batlló, one of Gaudís architectures lining the avenue.

She changes clothes and goes for a walk, returning by ten to meet Turner for dinner — perfect Spanish timing.

He looks at her lightly, preferring the décor in the lobby. “Are we eating here?”

“I found a tapas bar while I roamed, not too far. I’d rather go there if you don’t mind.” Sara looks into his blue eyes, for a moment taken back to a rickshaw ride in India.