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“No, I was here on business or grabbed something quick in between classes. Why?” He’s trying to remain impassive, but a trace of a smile crosses his lips.
“Just asking.”
“Are you jealous?”
“No.”
“Yes, you are. You’re jealous!” he exclaims, laughing.
“Maybe a little,” I admit. Chase takes one look at me and immediately stops laughing.
“Baby,” he takes my hand, “there’s nothing to be jealous of. I love you.”
“I know, it’s just . . .” I trail off, not wanting to finish.
“Just what?” he asks, pushing the conversation.
“I wonder what I ever did to deserve you.”
“Oh, no, baby,” he says, shaking his head, “it’s me who wonders every day how I’m lucky enough to have you in my life.” Bringing my hand to his lips, he kisses it tenderly. “Is there any way I can convince you to come to Italy with me?”
“No. We’ve been over this, I’ll miss too much work.”
The waitress brings over our wine and Chase orders. “We’re each having the Oyster House clam chowder. The lady will have broiled sea scallops and I’ll have grilled swordfish.” She writes down our order and scurries away.
“I’ll try to make the trip as short as possible. I don’t know how long I can be without you.”
“I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“No, you don’t understand. I’ll be lost without you. I don’t know how I’ve survived this long. Being away from you will be pure torture.” The look in his eyes tells me he’s serious. His sentiments are sweet, yet I still feel like he’s not really mine. I know I love him, but I haven’t had the balls to tell him. Deep down, I feel if I tell him, he’ll leave. I want to say the words, but something is holding me back.
“I’ll be here when you get back.” Now I’m reassuring him . . . I think.
After an amazing dinner, we finish our wine, take care of the bill, and walk toward the exit.
“Do we need to take the car back?” I ask, wanting to see more of this area. “The hotel’s not that far. I really would like to work dinner off.”
“I thought we’d do that back at the hotel.”
“We can, but I’d still like to walk.”
“I don’t see why not.” Chase informs the driver and he pulls away.
“Which way?”
“We’ll walk along the Harbor. This way.”
We stroll through Boston, hand in hand. Cutting through Faneuil Hall Marketplace, we walk down State Street toward the water. Even though it’s late, the streets are very well lit. We wind up on North Wharf and continue our way back to the hotel via Harbor Walk.
“How do you like Boston so far?” Chase asks as we walk along the harbor.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Wait till you see what I have in store for tomorrow,” he teases.
“When will you get it through your thick skull that I don’t like surprises?” I ask.
“My skull isn’t thick. Is it?” He checks his head, touching all around to make his point.
