Before she can answer, there comes a loud, extremely lifelike “Moooooo” from somewhere in the room. We jump apart, as if we’ve been caught getting handsy at a junior high dance—that inexplicably takes place in the middle of a farm.

“Is that your ringtone?” I ask her.

She looks at me in mock disgust. “First you think I’m from Florida, and now you think my phone moos? Have you no shame?”

Mooooooooo.

We stagger around the room trying to discern the source.

Finally, I locate a plastic udder (because of course) hanging off the bottom of the bed frame. I pick it up and, disturbed, put it to my ear with a tentative “Hello?”

A rude voice drawls, “You’re late for your dual massage appointment.”

“We’re going to need to reschedule the massage for another day. When’s checkout? At noon? Thanks.”

Zoey grabs the udder from me and tosses it behind her, then crawls into my lap. “We have three more hours to run amok on Mary’s dime.”

She kisses me and I roll us so she’s on her back and I can lavish her neck and collarbone with attention.

“We know we’re good at going fast,” I murmur between love bites. “So let’s try it slow this time.”

* * *

“How do you think they’re going to check us out? Beam us up?” she asks.

“I was thinking they’d make us play chess with the lobby chairs. Only the winner gets out,” I retort, swinging our clasped hands.

“My chess skills are a little rusty, but my will is strong,” she replies. “I feel confident.”

But there is no one manning the lobby when we get there, except a sign in almost illegible calligraphy saying that our phones will automatically be deactivated when we leave so there’s no need to check out.

“That’s anticlimactic,” Zoey says.

“Seriously. I’m docking a star from my Yelp review.”

We leave the hotel through the cellar door and emerge on the sidewalk to a beautiful day: slightly overcast, and a little breezy, which is a welcome change from the unseasonal heat of the past week. I look around and realize for the first time that I haven’t set foot in Brooklyn since I got our stuff out of my old apartment with Jordan. Until now.

“Hey,” I say, struck with an idea. “Do you have anything planned for the next couple of hours? There’s someplace I’d like to show you if you’re free.”

“Sure. I’m free.”

“Would you be okay taking the subway? We can also take a Lyft.”

She smiles. “I think I’m feeling relaxed enough. Let’s do it.”