Over the next week, Dani saw Mark every day for at least an hour or two — and often for a lot longer than that. One day they went to the Statue of Liberty and then to the 9/11 Memorial. On another, they got up really early and managed to be part of the crowd outside the Today show at Rockefeller Center. Dani got to shake Al Roker’s hand. Then they wandered around Rock Center, taking it all in. Mark bought her a Seinfeld poster of Kramer that completely cracked her up.

As the days wore on, she crossed more and more things off her first-and-last list: browsing in Tiffany’s, even though she could never afford anything in there. Being in the studio audience of a Tonight Show taping. Mark took her to a few places she’d never even heard of. In addition to the place he’d already promised in Grand Central — where he’d insisted she try some oyster dish — he brought her to The View, a restaurant at the top of a skyscraper, so high that on the way up in the glass elevator, her ears popped. Inside, the tables were on a carpeted ring that slowly rotated — one full circle every hour. Between trips to the buffet, patrons could look out and spot various landmarks, like the Chrysler building.

Every day, they laughed and talked. Some days, they busked — Dani enjoyed it more now, even after becoming aware of the audience. She’d taken to singing as well as dancing, and sometimes Mark sang along, harmonizing with her. They used the proceeds to pay for dinner, a meal they shared almost every night now that Mark had been fired from yet another job. He swore he’d get another one soon, but he didn’t want to miss out on their little remaining time together.

At times, she considered staying in Manhattan after all; if she could be this happy all the time, why wouldn’t she? Except for the fact that the only reason Mark was being so nice was because their relationship, such as it was, had an expiration date. If she were to stay, her life wouldn’t be a constant stream of experiencing new things with Mark at her side. Eventually, they would both return to reality. He’d return to temp jobs and auditions. He wouldn’t have time to hang out with her. And she’d be right where she’d been the day they met: alone, penniless, rejected, and eventually, heading home to Pekin. What was the point of delaying the inevitable?

As great as the last week and a half had been, and as happy as Dani felt to be crossing items off her list, she couldn’t help but notice with regret how close her departure date was drawing. Every night, she took her wall calendar off its nail and wrote down that day’s activities. Then she counted the boxes left until she headed home. They were vanishing awfully fast.

Worse, Mark seemed determined to bring up the fact that technically, she didn’t have to leave. And he did so every time they said good night.

“It’s only the cost of a flight,” he said more than once.

Other times it was along the lines of, “You haven’t sold your lease. You still have a place to live.”

Or, “Come on. Give your career another shot.”

Dani always brushed off whichever version he’d used. Her mother’s daily emails and calls had beaten her down enough. She’d already started imagining her life back at home, maybe using her degree to teach high-school theater or something.

At her apartment door, she always gave him a long hug — their hugs were growing longer every night. She wanted to give him more than a hug, but that would be asking for trouble. Getting her emotions mixed up in something temporary — more than they already were — would be a mess.

On Monday, her last night in Manhattan, they walked back to her place extra slowly. They’d gotten into the habit of having Mark walk with her up to the apartment door, where they’d chat until he insisted she needed her sleep and then, of course, make another argument for why she should stay. Often as they leaned their backs against the wall, they’d end up sliding to the floor and sitting there talking for far longer than they should have.

As much as Dani loved sharing her first-and-last list with Mark, she’d come to enjoy their talks even more, except for how they always ended. That night, as they walked up the last flight of stairs, she dreaded having a final debate with him on what she wanted to be a magical conclusion to this part of her life. She still held her keys after using them on the front door. She hadn’t put them back into her purse, because she didn’t know if he’d want to talk about art and books when they both knew this was their last evening together.

Just as she’d feared, when they reached her door, he didn’t strike up a conversation about music or movies or anything else they normally talked about. Instead, he grew quiet, as if he’d run out of things to say even about the Broadway show they’d just come from. She gripped her keys in one hand. A metal edge dug into her palm. The pain provided a distraction from the ache in her heart.

He didn’t have to say why neither of them was talking; they both knew. They’d had a final day of adventures, and this was their last goodnight. She’d already packed her two suitcases, and all that remained to pack was her carryon. Last week, she’d shipped home a few boxes filled with things she’d collected in the last six months that hadn’t fit into her bags.

As she stood at her door, she could picture the suitcases her mother had bought her for Christmas, which were bright red so they’d be easy to spot on the luggage carousel. They represented her failure here in the city and a dull, lifeless future.

Mom should have bought gray.

Mark stepped closer, and then closer again. She could feel the heat of his body, and her heart staccato-ed.

The image of those blasted suitcases forced themselves into her mind again. They marked the end of what could have been a wonderful thing with Mark.

No, not what could have been. What had been wonderful.

Eyes burning and insides tightening, she ordered herself to hold back her emotions. Don’t cry. I can still text Mark from four states and one time zone away. I can still email and call.

But what were the chances a long-distance relationship would survive, when their time in person had existed for a matter of days? When both of them had purposely kept a slight, if deliberate, distance between them? It was as if they’d both instinctively known what could have been.

Now, with her head lowered, she watched as he took both of her hands in his. The keys tumbled from her grip back into her purse. He’d moved so close that she could feel his breath on her cheek. She knew without any doubt that if she looked up at him, their lips would meet. A kiss would be inevitable.

And oh, how she wanted that very thing. But two weeks from now, would she regret having kissed him, when she was home, driving past corn fields instead of exploring Times Square?

“You’re trembling,” Mark said, his voice soft, tender. He released one hand and cupped her face as he’d done before, but this time his thumb stroked her cheek. It was almost too much to bear. It felt so good it hurt.

“Why did I have to meet you at the end?” she said quietly, still looking down. Seeing his face would break her. “Why not in January, when things could have been different?”

He didn’t answer, as if he was waiting for her to act or speak. After several seconds of silence, she finally lifted her face to his, if only to wait for him to speak. In spite of her efforts, a tear escaped and trickled down her cheek. “And please don’t say that I could still—”

He stopped her words by pressing his lips to hers, cradling her head between his hands with a sense of urgency.

A rush of heat went through Dani. She couldn’t help but reach up and hold his face in return, kissing him back as much as she’d wanted to every day they’d been together. She poured all of her wishes and dreams into that kiss, and he returned every bit of it.

At last they broke apart, and Dani rested her cheek against his shoulder, catching her breath. Half of her wondered what kind of awful thing she’d done. The other half wanted to explode with happiness because even though she was leaving, at least she’d had that kiss.

She could feel Mark’s heart pounding in his chest and knew that if she didn’t get through her apartment door soon, she’d want to kiss him again and again and —

“I — I have to go,” she murmured, gently pushing away. She didn’t want to release her hands from his chest to let him go, but she forced herself to and somehow got the key into the lock.

She opened the door, went inside, and looked back at Mark. He had his hands in his pockets, and his expression looked as forlorn and lost as she felt.

“Thank you for everything,” she whispered, and closed the door.