Page 89 of Tito

“Listen,” I said. “Guys dream of golf clubs, Porsche go-fast cars, and new Harley-Davidsons. Girls dream of diamonds, shoes like these, and nice handbags. Do you know the name of your dream Harley?”

“CVO Street Glide Special,” he said.

I wagged my eyebrows. “Point proven.”

The lady returned with the shoes in no time, opened the box, and unwrapped one of the shoes. I took it from her, using caution not to smudge the shiny black leather with my fingertips.

After fitting both the shoes to my feet, I stepped in front of the mirror. As I imagined, they looked marvelous. I quickly turned away, lifting my foot in the process. A quick glance over my shoulder allowed me to catch a flash of the red bottom as I walked away.

“The Copte flats would look adorable with those jeans,” she said.

“I’m not familiar with them.”

“Let me grab a pair,” she said.

With reluctance, I put the pumps in the box and pushed it to the end of the bench. They were classic Louboutin and exquisite in all respects, but they we’re impractical.

She returned in a flash with the cutest pair of sandals I’d ever seen. A quick stroll through the store, and I was in love, but the seven-hundred-dollar price tag was, once again, impractical.

When I returned where she and Tito were talking, she greeted me with a smile. “What did you think?”

“They’re really comfortable, I just don’t need a pair of sandals right—”

“We’ll take them both—” Tito said.

She shifted her eyes from me to Tito. “The Pigalle, and the—”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Very well then.” She glanced at each of us “Would either of you like a chilled bottle of Perrier?”

“Sure,” I said.

“Yes. Thank you,” Tito replied.

She disappeared into the back of the store. I couldn’t believe my dream of one day owning a pair of red-bottoms was actually going to come true.

I looked at Tito. “Are you sure you can afford this?”

“Like I said a minute ago,” he replied. “Anything you want on this trip, you’ll get. Nothing’s more important to me than seeing you happy.”

I kissed him and then pulled away. “Burn this image into your brain,” I said. “because what you’re seeing right now defines happiness.”

We left the store and went into Gucci, which was right across the hallway. After perusing the handbags, we wandered to Prada. Then, Valentino.

Going from shop to shop, I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. At first, I reluctantly looked at a few things. Then, after Tito bought everything I looked at, I realized I had to be vocal about what it was that I was actually interested in.

Four hours later, we wandered toward our hotel with our arms weighted down with bags. As we passed Harry Winton’s jewelry shop, Tito gestured toward a lighted display of diamond rings with his eyes.

“One of these days we’ll have to go in there.”

My heart raced at the thought. “Not now, but I’d love to peek in there one day.”

He paused. “Let’s go.”

I lifted my right arm. Three bags dangled from the ditch of my elbow. “Not now. Let’s put this stuff in the room.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said. “Let me know. It doesn’t hurt to look.”