It was our second day in Barcelona. The weather had been ideal since we arrived.

Not too hot but the sun was out and we were comfortable in short sleeve shirts.

The day we'd arrived, we'd settled into our apartment in Catalunya. A nice place with a modern cultural vibe. White decor with light timber fixtures.

A lot of natural light and space.

We'd explored the city centre. There was a lot of walking while we admired the exquisite culture.

The buildings. The enriching sights.

Catalunya square was incredible. Enormous with red and blue brick. Geometrical designs and fountains.

I'd never seen Amalia so enthralled. She skipped beside me. She pointed and laughed and tugged on my hand so we could go faster and then she would pull me to a stop so she could reminisce.

My favourite part was when she recognised a place. Somewhere that she'd been in the past.

She'd gasp. "I used to eat here whenever we came to Catalunya. It's been painted. And that's new. But Max, the nostalgia. It's such an intense emotion."

She was so enthusiastic. The most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed.

Today we'd decided to go further.

A vineyard and wine tasting tour in Alella. The car collected us from the apartment at nine in the morning and we'd arrived just after ten.

We weren't part of a group. It was just the two of us. The first thing we did was have breakfast in a garden. Lush with green trimmed hedges and rustic chairs and tables.

The food was traditional. The wine was made on site. There was toast and marmalade's that could have been made from the fruits of Eden.

It was a flavour burst. Croissants. Coffee. Fruits and omelettes.

Amalia sat across the small two seater table in her floor length black sundress. The straps were thin and she had a large sunhat on top of her long wavy hair.

She was a vision under the luminous of the sun with a glass of red wine in her hand.

She belonged here. It suited her.

After breakfast we were able to do a more in depth wine tasting. There were several and I wasn't a huge fan of wine but it was good. Our tour guide was a short woman in her fifties with a thick accent and a plump figure. She was so sweet.

Before we went out into the vineyard, we were able to purchase bottles of wine to have them sent home. I had one sent to Mom and Dad. Amalia sent one to her father.

"The grapes are hand picked and collected," our tour guide explained, walking ahead of Amalia and I who held hands. The sun was unfiltered and warmed our shoulders. "Gentle pressing is carried out. Only the free run juice is used. In both vats and barrels, fermentation is temperature controlled to ensure that the vinification is well managed."

We listened to her information while we admired the vast landscape. Views of the coastline could be seen and offered a different shade of nature to the picture.

It was all surreal. This country didn't just come with extravagant history and culture. But it came with a feeling. It seeped into the veins and settled in the soul.

Everything felt brighter. More magnified. Whenever I looked at Amalia, I felt as if I was going to take a knee and ask her to be my wife.

Which was insane and it was way too soon. But it was the environment. It instilled romance into the simplest places and moments.

After we left the vineyard, we decided to head to Barcelona's beachfront boardwalk.

It stretched for miles. Sant Sebastià was crowded with tourists and backed up by small stores, shops and boutiques.

Bars with terraces were bustling and the aroma of traditional food floated through the air as Amalia and I walked through the sand with our fingers laced.

We wanted to make the most of the sunshine incase the weather dulled while we were here.

There were enough beaches to dedicate an entire day to sand and surf.

"This is unreal," Amalia squeezed my hand as we wandered past popped umbrellas and lounge chairs. Lifeguards sat on tall chairs and in the harbour was the enormous Sant Sebastià tower. "Dad used to bring me to this beach all the time."

"Oh yeah," I smiled and felt the soft breeze that carried the scent of salt. "Did you live close?"

She nodded. "In El Born. It's about five minutes from here. Twenty minute walk."

I watched her expression. It fell for a moment but then she peered up and offered me a soft smile.

Her upbringing wasn't all fond memories, though those were the ones she spoke about, she still had parts of her past that were immensely painful.

"Do you want to visit El Born?"

She stared at the ground as she answered. "Yeah it could be interesting to see where I grew up again."

I came to a standstill and Amalia was pulled back by the hand as I spun her into my chest. "Whatever you want to do is what we'll do."

She tiptoed and pressed a soft kiss against my lips. "I genuinely want to go there. Like, sure, a lot of the more horrific memories happened here. But my entire childhood was here. I have to take the good with the bad. You know? And there was a lot of good."

"I wish the world shared that sort of optimism," I said and we kept walking. "The world would be a bit brighter."

She laughed.

"There's a lot of older people here, huh?"

I noticed as we kept walking that the beach sort of morphed into designated areas the further we went. We'd been among a lot of families earlier. It seemed the elderly dominated this specific space. Amalia laughed.

"That's why dad brought me here all the time. It was a little more. . . tame than other areas of the coast."

She had a little mischief in her tone but I shrugged and noted that while there were a decent number of older men and women, there were just as many people our age as well.

Up further towards the road were clubs, bars and rental stores. The legal age to purchase alcohol here was eighteen so I considered running up to the beach side bar to order a drink for Amalia and I.

I glanced around at the views and saw boobs.

I startled for a minute until I saw more. They were everywhere.

The more I looked around, the more I noticed there were men and women in the full nude.

Some people were still wearing the bottom half of their bikinis. Some were still in their bathing suits.

But I stared at the sand because it was clear that we were on a nudist beach and Amalia didn't warn me at all. She started giggling.

"Sant Sebastiá has a designated nudist beach," she couldn't stop laughing as I watched my feet. "You're really not going to peep, at all?"

I stopped walking and she stood in front of me, staring up with the brim of her sunhat shading half of her face. "No," I said. "My eyes belong on you and you only."

Her lips pulled into a shy smile and she shook her head as she looked out at the water. "Well," she pulled off her hat and dropped it, meeting my curious stare. "In that case."

Without warning, she slid the straps of her black dress off her shoulders and the material pooled at her feet. She wasn't wearing a bra and her black lace thong was barely there. My mouth felt dry, my throat thick as I stared at her.

"Should we go for a swim?" She started strutting towards the water. She was so confident. Not one concern.

It was so damn beautiful.

I pulled off my T-shirt and shorts. But I left my boxer briefs on. I wasn't quite at the same level of no fucks to give as my gorgeous girlfriend.

I felt exposed as it was. Still, I caught up with her at the shoreline and we walked into the water. It wasn't cold. It wasn't warm. It was the sort of temperature that would require a minute to become pleasant.

Eventually we were far enough out that it reached the top of my chest and Amalia hooked her legs around my waist and rested her arms on my shoulders.

Her hair splayed out on the surface of the water and her wet chest rubbed against mine. If I wasn't careful, I'd end up having to walk back onto the beach with an obvious erection.

"I am so glad I walked into Delgado's all those months ago," I murmured, watching droplets roll from her hair and down her cheeks.

I don't think I could ever get used to how beautiful she is.

"I am too," her hands held the back of my head, fingers grazing through the strands.

The small waves pushed us from side to side. We bopped on the spot. The sound of the water lapping, chatter from the shore, the seagulls in the sky.

"You've brought so much brightness into my life. Shown me courage. You remind me what it's like to live."

She grinned and leaned in, her kiss gentle and breathtaking.

I swallowed and held her tight, wrapping a hand around her nape. "And that's why I love you."

"Max," her smile became bigger than I'd ever seen it before. The apples of her cheeks were round, her dimples deep. "You love me?"

"Isn't it obvious?" I asked, stroking her jaw with my thumb. "I am so in love with you that it feels like it's consuming me. And I know that can come off a little strong. I'm a little intense. I get it. But I've never felt like this before. Which, I should mention, I feel sort of guilty confessing because of Kyla. But it's true. You're just— you're everything. You're the girl th—"

Her finger pressed against my lips and she leaned in close. "I love you too, Max."

My heart might have stopped for a moment.

"And I am not the sort of woman to use that word unless I mean it. Feel it. And I feel it, Max. Like I've never felt anything before," her words broke as her breath hitched and her legs wound tighter around my waist. "I've always followed my heart. Trusted my instincts. This is real. I know it is."

I kissed her and I knew she was the girl I could picture a future with. We could have the conversations. We could make plans. That was the sort of kiss we shared.

Hand in hand, Amalia and I wandered the streets of El Born.

It was one of the most beautiful places I'd ever seen. It was art. That's how I would describe it.

Old buildings. Little pedestrian streets and boutiques. There were no chain stores just local owned shops, cocktail bars and galleries. It was easy to see why Elias would have chosen to live here.

"So this was your little world, huh?" I smiled as Amalia led me down another street of cocktail bars and eateries.

The atmosphere was alive and rich with culture. Musicians were dotted all over the place, live music and singing.

"This was part of it," she nodded, staring up at the old buildings with rusted wrought rails on the patios and vines travelling up the sides of homes. "I think this is what helped get me through the dark times. I could step out into this community that was bright and full of love."

"Do you remember where the house you grew up in is?"

She nodded and gestured up the road. "I'm pretty sure it's down there and to the left. It can get confusing when all of the homes are arranged in blocks and look similar."

"We'll find it," I slipped a hand inside of my pocket and wondered what the time was. It must have been getting close to dinner. Not that there would be a shortage of places to eat here. "It must have been hard for your Dad to leave a place like this. Seems like he'd fit right in here."

"It was his home," Amalia said as we were careful of the tourists lingering on the sidewalks, taking photographs or listening to the musicians. "He grew up here. He had family here. His Mom died a few years ago but I mean, his whole world was here. And I think that's what the problem was. Mom was his world. You know? He needed to get as far from her as he could."

It was painful to think about the sort of relationship that Elias was in. To love someone so much even though they were toxic. It was unimaginable. Wanting to help them. Wishing you could be enough to change who they were. It wasn't fair.

The walkway which was like an outdoor plaza, opened up into a small square. There was no cars. People only and it was tranquil and relaxing to be walking around what appeared almost as streets but were void of having to worry about being run over.

More stores and restaurants surrounded the square. There were places to sit and eat. Outdoor tables and chairs as well.

We crossed the square and started down a narrow alleyway. The sides of the buildings were covered in little patios with washing hanging on the railing and doors opened with nets billowing in the breeze.

The apartment buildings were tall and old but rich with character.

"There it is," Amalia pointed upward. "Fourth row, seven windows in from the beginning of the alleyway."

She stared upward at the patio which had its own laundry draped over the wrought iron railing.

"You have a good memory."

"I wouldn't have remembered if Dad hadn't painted it."

"Right."

We stood there, quiet for a while. I wasn't going to rush her into opening up about how this all felt for her. Going home after a few months of absence was strange. I couldn't imagine it after years of absence. She sighed after a minute.

"I'm not sure what I was expecting or hoping to get from this," she laughed.

I wasn't either. But I didn't mind waiting until she found out. "I personally think it's incredible to see where you grew up. I can imagine a small girl with dark curls and big brown eyes standing at that patio. Watching her Dad paint. Appreciating the music."

"That was how it was sometimes," she said and we turned around again so we could head back to the square. "I don't even know who lives there now. I think Dad sold it. If not, he'd have left it to his Mom and she died."

"We could go and knock? Find out."

"We could. Maybe later?" She shrugged. "I'm starving right now."

"Yeah of course. Let's go and get something to eat."

We settled on a crepes bar. It was called Creps Al Born. A crepes and cocktail bar.

There were both sweet and savoury crepes on the menu and while I knew what Amalia would order, I was genuinely stuck on which one I wanted.

"I have to get one of each," I threw my hands up and rested my elbows on the small wooden table top.

I told Amalia which ones I wanted. Smoked Salmon and Creamy Cheese. As well as the cream, walnuts and honey crepe.

Amalia ordered for us when the waitress came around.

"Nara, Nuez, Miel. Nutella. Dulce de leche, platano. Salmón ahumado, queso, creamoso. Oh and two Gitana. Sí. Gracias."

"Well, that sounded beautiful," I said, enamoured by her presence and not much else. "What was that last part?"

"Gitana?" She shrugged. "A cocktail each."

I smiled and sat back in the seat so I could get a good look at her. For no particular reason other than wanting to look at her.

The bar was nice. Modern with a huge stack of alcohol behind the bar. The menus written on blackboard in perfect handwriting.

It reminded me of a student hot spot where a lot of young people would gather. And judging by the crowd. That was what was going on.

But then an older woman appeared beside our table. She had dark white hair. Thin and wiry. Her skin was wrinkled bronze and she stared with her lips parted and her brows risen.

"Amalia?"

Amalia looked at me and gave a little shrug of confusion before she turned back to the woman. "Yes?"

"Amalia Delgado?"