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If you don’t stop it right now…
“Okay, let’s see here…” Flynn brings his arms around my neck, positioning the pendant of the necklace at my clavicle. The chill of gold makes me shiver. “I’ve always been terrible with these things,” he mutters, fumbling with the clasp.
I giggle. “It’s alright. You’re doing great.”
“There.” He draws his hands away and looks back into the mirror. A smile crosses his lips as he looks at the fan-shaped necklace against my skin.
“It is very beautiful,” the woman helping us calls out from the counter.
“Of course, she’d say that,” I say softly so only Flynn can hear.
He laughs, giving her a smile. “Yes, I think so too.”
Does he really mean it?
He turns back to me, pursing his lips. “Stella, let me just buy it, and then we can get out of here.”
I touch the pendant and rip my hand away as if it’s scorched me. “No, Flynn, I’m not letting you do that.”
“Please, it’s nothing.”
“I’d never wear it.”
His brow tightens. Have I hurt him? “Then pick out something you would wear. I’d like to buy it for you.”
“We’ve already been over this.”
“Stella, how else are you going to remember me?”
The word remember stabs me in the gut. We’re already planning our demise when we’ve just started. That’s how it has to be. It’s romantic of him, I’ll give him that. But a Bulgari pendant made of gold and diamonds will look out of place. “Fine. You can buy me a piece of jewelry.”
Flynn’s face lights up, eyes crinkling at the sides.
“But not from here.”
His face falls again; before he has time to protest, I turn around to the saleswoman. “Can you direct us to the closest flea market around here?”
The Kotor Bazar is built into a section of the Old City wall, nestled in between two beautiful, aged churches. It took a short car ride to get here, but it’s so worth it. Though it’s mostly tchotchkes and souvenirs, it’s much more my speed than stuffy Bulgari.
We look high and low, past lanterns and ornaments, t-shirts and bucket hats, decorative plates and spoons… until finally, we find a red-roofed booth manned by an elderly man working on whittling away a piece of wood.
At his station are rows and rows of carved wooden necklaces. Each one is unique due to its handmade nature.
The man looks at us with a cold look in his eye.
“These are beautiful,” I say.
His face softens and he nods. “Thank you,” he says, deep voice rumbling.
“So intricate.”
“You like these?” Flynn asks, not with judgment but curiosity.
“I think it matches me better than what we saw back there, don’t you think?”
Flynn nods, smiling.
“Okay!” I step back and pat him on the arm. “Go ahead!”
