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“You had this binder in school that was covered in old-timey sepia pics,” I replied.
Her eyes widened as she looked at me. “How did you know that?”
“I pay attention, Ade.”
Her lips twitched, as if she was struggling not to smile. “And what else did you pay attention to?” she asked, her voice soft but filled with curiosity.
I looked at her, the morning sunlight catching her dark hair and casting soft shadows on her pretty face. “Everything.”
She blushed, glancing away from me as we entered the boutique. The small bell hanging over the door chimed softly as we stepped inside. The store was filled with old trinkets and vintage clothing, each piece arranged with meticulous care.
“This place is amazing,” she whispered, her eyes wide as she took in the array of items.
I watched her excitement, her fears temporarily forgotten as she examined an old gramophone player. Her fingers traced over the carved wooden exterior, her touch reverent.
“You’re really into this stuff, huh?” I asked, standing behind her and draping my hands over her shoulders. It was a small gesture, but it felt important to me. A silent reassurance that I was still there, that I was still with her.
Adriana nodded, turning to look at me with a soft smile. “Yeah, I am. I’ve always loved things from the past. There’s something about them that feels…real. That’s why it looks like someone’s grandma lives in my apartment.”
I laughed. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been there.”
Her smile faded as my words sank in. “Right,” she said, shifting away from me. “Well, maybe someday.” There was a longing in her voice that tugged at my heartstrings.
A longing for normalcy, a longing for us. I hoped, anyway. It could be a longing to get the hell away from me. I wouldn’t blame her for that at all.
“Maybe,” I agreed, allowing her to drift through the store on her own while I watched her. Her gaze lingered on an old typewriter, her fingers grazing over the keys with awe.
I watched her from across the room, my heart heavy with emotions I couldn’t quite name. I wanted to bridge the gap between us, but each time I had tried, it felt like she was just out of reach.
I moved closer to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’re thinking about getting it?”
She nodded. “I’ve always wanted one. But they’re so expensive.”
I looked at the price tag and winced. She was right; it was steep, not for me but on principle. It didn’t do anything. It wasn’t even a tax write-off. “Get it.”
She turned to look at me, her eyes wide in surprise. “What? Are you sure?”
I shrugged nonchalantly, attempting to hide the warmth spreading through me at the prospect of putting a smile on her face. “Yeah. We’re playing pretend, remember?” I said, gesturing to our surroundings, “Consider it your…um…honeymoon gift.”
A soft blush dusted her cheeks as she looked down at the typewriter again. “You don’t have to do this Tristan,” she said, but there was a hopeful lilt to her voice that suggested she wanted me to insist.
“I want to,” I replied earnestly, hoping my sincerity would quell her uneasiness. “I can give you diamonds, too, if you want them.”
“This will be enough,” she replied.
I smiled. “For now.”
“Yeah. For now.”
I nodded at her agreement, a small warmth blooming somewhere in the deep recesses of my chest. She was warming up to me again, gradually pulling down the walls she had put up after witnessing my violent outburst.
We walked over to the counter, the typewriter in her hands. I watched as she set it down, her fingers lingering on the polished keys before letting go. I made the purchase without a second thought, ignoring the astronomical price. It wasn’t like I couldn’t afford it. The shopkeeper, an elderly woman with silver hair and piercing gray eyes, smiled at us as she handed me the receipt. “You two make a lovely couple,” she commented. I glanced at Adriana as a blush crept into her cheeks.
“Thank you,” I replied with a polite smile. The compliment rolled off too naturally, too easily for something that wasn’t real…yet?
Leaving the vintage store, we walked down the cobblestone streets of downtown. Not that there was much, this little picturesque town was rather small. We wandered aimlessly, pausing occasionally to admire the local shops and boutiques offering everything from homemade pastries to handcrafted jewelry. Adriana’s hand remained snug in mine; our fingers comfortably entwined. We were silent, lost in our own thoughts as we walked, the quiet providing a strange sort of comfort.
After an hour or so, we found ourselves in a small park, where the scent of freshly cut grass filled the air. A few children ran around, their innocent laughter echoing through the calm surroundings.
