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“I’m not sure I want to know.”
“We’ll see if we have time,” he says, chewing his lower lip. “We could always stay longer,” he muses.
“No, that won’t be necessary,” I say, tugging him along.
As we continue to walk, Chase says, “So, I thought we could sightsee a little. With all the years I spent in this city, I never really had the time to leisurely walk around.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“We’ll also need to do a bit of shopping. For what I have planned later, you didn’t bring the right attire,” he casually adds.
“Shopping?” I sputter. “What kind of shopping?”
“You’ll know when we get there.”
We continue to follow the red brick path, which twists and turns around other hotels and buildings. Chase suddenly turns away from the water, leading me to a large fountain. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he leans in to take a selfie. I look at him in shock. “Selfie?” He nods as he places his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close.
Pressing my head against his, I look at the phone and smile. When he’s finished, I take his phone to make sure I don’t look ridiculous. Satisfied, I hand it back. “I want to remember this weekend while I’m in Italy, and what better way than to photograph it?” Chase shrugs.
“You know, there is this thing called Skype.”
“I know, but the hours will be off. This is just in case.” Taking my hand once again, he pulls me across the other side of Atlantic Avenue toward Central Street. Walking through McKinley Square, toward Commerce Street and Faneuil Marketplace, he says, “I thought you might want a Starbucks.”
“Ohmigod, yes!” I say, grinning like an idiot. There is no such thing as too much caffeine.
He leads me all the way down to the Starbucks at the end of Quincy Market. Chase orders us both iced caramel macchiatos and we continue our stroll through the marketplace. We stop in different shops, checking out all the tourist trap items. I find a Boston magnet of a lobster that will go perfectly with the magnets I’ve picked up on other trips. I go to pay, but Chase hands the clerk money before I can get my wallet out. “I can pay for my own magnet,” I say, affronted.
“Not when you’re with me, you can’t. C’mon, we have shopping to do.” With that, he takes my hand and leads me out of the store.
“Can you at least give me a hint as to what we are looking for?”
“A little black dress will do just fine,” he replies, impassive.
Chase leads me around to several different boutiques, not satisfied with anything they have to offer. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters as he pulls out his phone. Scrolling through his contacts, he finds who he’s looking for and hits send.
“Gabby? It’s Chase. I need a favor,” he says, reverence in his voice. “I need a good boutique in Boston. Olivia needs a cocktail dress.” He listens for a minute, then nods. “That’s perfect. Can you make it happen? Great, thanks.” Hanging up the phone, he opens up his apps and types an address into his GPS. Taking my hand, he leads me toward State Street. “We can walk, or catch a cab. It’s just under two miles to the boutique. What do you want to do?”
“That’s not too far, we can walk. Besides, I need to work off breakfast.”
“Walk, it is.” Switching his GPS from drive to walk, we follow the directions spoken from his phone.
It’s a beautiful, warm October morning, and our walk is quite enjoyable. Tall, shiny buildings along one-way streets, reminiscent of walking through Manhattan, only quieter. We pass by pubs, restaurants, and old buildings with gorgeous architecture. I’m a sucker for old buildings, so full of history. As our route takes us farther from the main part of the city, the buildings get smaller. There are more trees and wider streets, reminiscent of Queens or Brooklyn.
About forty-five minutes later, we arrive at the boutique in the middle of an industrial park, not in the center of the city like I thought it would be. Chase opens the door for me and we enter the store.
“Good afternoon. Can I help you?” a tall, snobby woman asks Chase.
“We have an appointment with Cecile,” he replies with a smile.
“Oh, you must be Ms. Barrett,” she squeals
, grabbing both my hands. “Cecile is waiting for you in the back. Would you like something to drink?”
“We’ll take two glasses of white wine, Sauvignon Blanc if you have it,” Chase tells her, still smiling.
“Yes, I’ll get it right away.” Chase motions to the plush couch on the side of the room.
“Who’s Cecile?” I ask as I sit down next to him.
