It's springtime in Copenhagen. That means that the flowers have burst through the cracks in the sidewalk, the tulips are in full bloom, and the grass is vibrant green. It's the best time of year.

Taking a bike ride through the town, you stop at various farmer's markets and vendors to get a few groceries and things that you need for the week. You prop up your bike on the side of a building and enter into a restaurant you've been dying to try.

There's a delicious buttery smell of pastries and the strong scent of espresso on the air as you enter.

When you are met by the hostess, she sits you down at a table by the window, set with beautiful fresh flowers. After glancing at the menu, you order a sampling of a few different things, and take a second to enjoy the whole experience. Everything is beautiful. It quickly becomes your favorite place to frequent. You stop by their establishment multiple times a week and fall into a routine with the staff there.

One day, when you sit reading, someone interrupts you by clearing their throat. "Excuse me, was this your order?"

A tall, handsome, blond stands before you in Chef blues, his apron tied loosely around his torso, he smiles at you and you think the entire world glows brighter.