I’m at the corner of Ocean Avenue and Mission Street, in front of a shop that faces Red Eagle Lane and across from Tiffany’s. This town is as eclectic as they come. There are maybe eight or nine people on bikes and moving between us, a man dressed in a bright red T-shirt waves his arms above his head. “Everyone ready?”

An elderly couple cheers as they hold hands even on bikes. It’s lovely to see. Will it be bizarre if I take out my notebook from my backpack and write something on it? I have to do it.

“Hands on the handlebar,” I hear right behind me as the redshirt man spots my notebook.

I smile innocently and stuff it in the backpack. “Writers write,” I mumble, amused.

Before entering Pebble Beach, we take Scenic Road to cycle along what the guide tells us is the most beautiful stretch of coastal roadway in the US: 17 Mile Drive. It’s breathtaking. We pass the golf course, the Lone Cypress Tree where we stop, and I take a few photos with my phone. I text one to Max, who sends back smileys and asks me if I’m having a good time.

A blast!

Did you know this is the most photographed tree in the world?

I didn’t. Had no idea. Just like I had no idea that a day that started so disastrously would take me here. Despite the pain and the uncertainty of my future and the regret for the last four years—both at work and with David—I find myself smiling from ear to ear as Max and I text back and forth. I do not feel alone at all, as hard as that is to explain, even to myself.

The group is now at the Ghost Tree and Cypress Point Lookout, where we stop again. There are seals and otters on the large rocks in the ocean and the view and this moment take my breath away. This is by far the most amazing adventure I’ve ever been on.

We head on to Fanshell Cove, Seal Point, Point Joe and eventually to Spanish Bay. The group stops at the beach where there are lots of stacking stones and I take tons of photos. I’m sorry I didn’t bring my camera with me and even sadder it’s in David’s apartment, because I can’t even call it my own anymore. Whatever happens after today, I need to get my things out of there. Where to though, that’s the question. I guess back to my mom’s house? Moving back to Hartford isn’t something I ever thought I’d do, but then again, I should stop planning for anything, as it’s fairly obvious by now it’s completely pointless and it only leads to disappointment.

Knowing Max is a text away, giving me directions and helping me navigate this day is comforting. I feel safe and not lonely at all, although I’m practically alone here. And one of the best parts about this day and the greatest surprise for sure is how much I’m enjoying getting to know him. I find myself wondering when the tour will end—although I’m having a great time—so I can sit somewhere and talk to him again. And I don’t remember the last time I felt like this.