“It’s everything I remember, only better because I’m here with you. I’m definitely going to start making time for this.” And for you. He didn’t want to think about leaving on Sunday, or the weeks they’d be apart until the grand opening. Carrie had sent him all of the documents and reports he needed for his Q2 meetings. Normally, he’d have reviewed them right away, but when he’d gone to the hotel to swap clothing earlier in the week, he’d attempted to start studying the reports, but they were a reminder of how few days he and Abby had left together, and it had bummed him out. He knew how hellish it would be to leave Abby, and this time he had no choice. Real life awaited.
“I haven’t been out on the water or to Chaffee in years,” Abby said. “I wonder if anything has changed. I know you’re still not allowed to drive in the shopping district. That’ll never change because it’s written into Chaffee’s bylaws.” She pressed her shoulder against his arm and said, “I’m glad we’re doing this, Aiden.”
“Me too.” He put a hand on her back and kissed her, inhaling the scent of the summery lotion Remi had sent her, which she’d bought from Ben’s mother, Roxie. Roxie Dalton was known in Upstate New York for her homemade lotions, shampoos, soaps, and fragrances, which she claimed to have infused with love potions. He was sure Remi thought he wouldn’t remember that little myth, which Remi and all of the Dalton siblings swore by. But the truth was, not only did he remember it; he welcomed it.
They sailed for most of the day, basking in the sun, eating the lunch they’d brought, and enjoying every minute they had with each other. When they docked at Chaffee and walked along the cobblestone streets, Aiden was immediately taken with the charming area. In the middle of town was an enormous square cobblestone courtyard surrounded by vibrant three-story shops with wrought-iron balconies. A small stage anchored one side of the courtyard, and in the center of the courtyard was a fountain surrounding a statue of a man and a dog. A few children were kneeling on the edge, peering into the water, while others were playing tag, running around tables and darting between large planters overflowing with leafy green plants and colorful blooms.
Aiden pointed to the kids playing and said, “Did you do that when you were young?”
“Of course. Every kid who grew up on the island probably did. What else are you going to do when your parents are canoodling at a table?”
He pressed his lips to hers and said, “I’d like to canoodle with you.”
They meandered in and out of shops, picking up a few gifts for Patrice and Olive. Abby flitted from one display to the next, commenting on how much she liked this or that. It didn’t seem to matter if they were in a candle shop, a boutique, or an art gallery. She found something to love in every one of the shops. She continued to amaze him. She’d spent days stressing over recipes, testing and tweaking, and planned to serve far too many dishes for the tasting with their friends this weekend. The judging of the competition, the biggest day of her life, was less than a week away, and here she was, fully present, carefree, and enjoying every moment. He could watch her all day, survive on her enthusiasm rather than oxygen. But what he really needed to do was learn from her. Learn her secrets to striking a balance before he went back to work full-time.
“Look, a musician.” Abby tugged Aiden out of an art gallery toward the courtyard, where a crowd had gathered around a young guy playing guitar by the fountain. He had shaggy dark hair and wore wire-framed glasses, hemp pants, and leather sandals. A dalmatian lay by his open guitar case. Inside the case was a sign that read DONATIONS FOR AUTISM ARTS APPRECIATED.
As a practice, Aiden donated twenty-five percent of his income to charity. He tossed a few twenties into the guitar case, making a mental note to look up the cause to see if he should add it to his annual donations list.
“That was nice of you,” Abby said as he drew her into his arms, swaying to the beat. “Nobody else is dancing.”
“That’s their loss.” He kissed her and said, “This place, this courtyard, reminds me of Salvador de Bahia in Brazil.”
Surprise sparked in her eyes. “You’ve been to Brazil?”
“Mm-hm.” He kissed her again. “I do a fair amount of international travel for work, so I bought a little villa there. Maybe sometime in the off-season, when the Bistro is closed, we can sneak away, and I’ll show you around. It’s gorgeous in February.” She was looking at him like she saw puppies again. “What is that adorable look for?”
“You just put us together months from now like we’re a given.”
“Is that too presumptuous?” They were great together, and while he would come back for the grand opening as he’d promised, he wanted more.
“No,” she said happily. “I want that, too. But you talk about Brazil like it’s Boston, right around the corner. I’ve never been anywhere besides New York.”
“Then maybe I can show you the world one week at a time, during your off-season, of course.”
“Aiden . . . ?” She laughed. “You’re crazy.”
“You should have a chat with my friend Runner Girl. She told me I was too romantic for my own good.”
“You are romantic. But you’re also crazy.”
“Crazy about you, that’s for sure.” He gave her a chaste kiss and motioned in the direction of a row of shops they hadn’t yet explored. “Let’s go check out the rest of the stores, see what we can find.”
“This store has Abby written all over it,” Aiden said as they approached a funky little shop with WHIMSICAL THINGS painted on the glass above the purple door and a mannequin out front wearing aviator sunglasses, a floppy woven hat with a pink flower on the front, a white shirt with WHIMSICAL THINGS printed across the chest, and bright yellow pants. Several elegant necklaces and a rainbow boa hung around the mannequin’s neck, and its arm was bent at the elbow, hand palm up, as if it were presenting the shopper with a gift. Three expensive-looking bracelets decorated its wrist, and a gold hanging light with pink fringe hung from its fingers.
“Aiden, look!” Abby went to the mannequin and touched the hanging light. “This is just like the kind of light my dad would have put up in the Bistro!” She looked at the price tag and exclaimed, “No way! It’s only fifteen dollars.” She snagged the light, clutching it against her chest, and said, “I’m getting this. I wasn’t sure where to buy lights, but this is perfect! Let’s see what else they have.”
She threw open the door, thrilled at the mix of chic and eclectic items before her. Colorful rugs were spread over hardwood floors, creating alcoves of funky chairs and interesting wall hangings. There were candles and pottery bowls, pillows and planters. Several funky lights of varying sizes, shapes, and colors hung from the ceiling, as if her father had sprinkled his magic all over the store.
She moved from one display to the next, checking out fancy wineglasses and rustic decorations. “Look at the prices. I can actually afford these things.” She found another great light and snatched it off the table. “Aiden, I think I’m in love.”
“You and me both.”
The depth of emotion in his voice drew her attention. He was standing a few feet away, holding the bag of gifts he’d bought for the girls in one hand and reaching for her with the other as he closed the distance between them. The emotions in his voice were nothing compared to the ones looking back at her. She clutched the lights against her chest to keep from dropping them as he slid his hand beneath her hair, drawing her closer, and said, “Only I don’t think, Abs. I know. And I’m not falling, baby. I fell. I’m there.”