After the MoMA, Constantino texted me to meet him at Cantu Boutique for high-end designer clothing. Tucked away on a quiet street corner in Manhattan, Cantu Boutique didn’t get much traffic from the wealthy—yet. It was my and Constantino’s gem of a designer clothing shop. We found all my clothes there.
I pulled up to the side of the street, finally weaving out of traffic, and parked. Rain pattered against the windshield. The guards parked the other cars in front and behind us, protecting us on either side.
A moment later, Constantino walked down the sidewalk toward us with a large umbrella in one hand and his other stuffed into his pants pocket. He walked around the car, opened my door first, and helped me out. Then, he did the same for Sage.
Especially because Bethany had already suspe
