OliviaAfter a decadent breakfast delivered by room service, we headed out into the light London drizzle. Alexander insisted on stopping at the concierge desk, where he obtained a large black umbrella emblazoned with the hotel's logo. "Can't have my wife getting wet," he said, opening it as we stepped outside. "Your wife could have packed an umbrella if someone had mentioned London weather," I replied. "But then I wouldn't get to play the gallant husband," he countered, offering his arm. Covent Garden was charming, a cobblestoned plaza filled with boutiques, cafés, and street performers. We wandered through the Apple Market, admiring handcrafted jewelry and artwork. Alexander kept steering me toward luxury boutiques, but I was more interested in the quirky independent shops. "You don't need to buy me anything," I protested when he suggested we look at a jewelry store. "I know I don't need to," he replied. "But I want to. A memento of your first trip to London." "Fine, but nothi
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