“Of course,” I reply, and guide her across the street, my hand on the small of her back. Once inside, we’re greeted by a woman named Alana.
“It’s so good to see you, Ms. Watson,” she says with a smile.
“Hi, Alana. It’s good to be here! What have I missed lately?”
“Just wait until you see this black leather Deauville tote.” Alana walks into the back and returns with a large black handbag, Chanel written in silver grommets on the side. “Isn’t it just divine?”
“Oh, I do love this. And you know me, I enjoy a tote.” She props it on her shoulder and stares at herself in the mirror. “But this one is a little big. It makes me look tiny.”
“You are tiny,” I remind her, but then hold my hands up in surrender when she just narrows her eyes at me. “I like it.”
“We have it in a smaller size,” Alana says helpfully, and pulls it out of a black protective bag. “Is this better?”
“Oh, it is. I like it a lot.” London sets it down and bites her lip as she stares at it. “I’ve also been looking for something in pink.”
Alana shows her several options in different shades of pink, and London sets them all, including the smaller black tote, out before her and purses her lips, as if she’s giving this great deliberation.
“I’ll buy them all for you,” I offer. There’s no need for her to have to choose.
“Right.” She laughs, but I shake my head.
“Seriously. You don’t have to choose, just take them all.”
“That’s not how this works,” she says with a frown. “What’s the fun in shopping if you’re just going to buy everything? I have to consider each one, weigh the pros and cons, and then narrow it down.”
I look over at Alana. “When she narrows it down, I’ll purchase whatever she wants.”
“No, he won’t.” That frown is still on London’s gorgeous face. “Can I speak with you privately, please?”
“Of course.” We walk away and she turns to me, clearly unhappy.
“I don’t need you to buy me all of the bags. Or shoes. Or anything.”
“I know you don’t need me to. I want to.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t get it. I didn’t ask you to come shopping with me so you could buy everything I want. I just wanted you to join me because it’s fun.”
“And it’s fun for me to buy you things.”
“Listen to me.” She steps closer to me and takes my hand in hers, her blue eyes almost pleading with me. “Please don’t do this.”
“Okay.” I hold my hands up in surrender. “I won’t buy you anything.”
I don’t understand her at all. Don’t most women want you to buy them beautiful things?
“I’m not going to take anything today,” London tells Alana, whose face falls in disappointment. “But I’ll be back soon when I make a decision.”
We walk out of the store and across the street to Tiffany.
“I’m ready for some lunch,” she says. “And I’d like to try this new café.”
“Sounds fine to me.”
We’re seated, and I have to admit the space is beautiful. The furniture and walls are done in the signature Tiffany blue, with accents of the same color throughout the room.
“This is gorgeous,” London says. “They did a beautiful job.”
We’re served quickly and efficiently, and the food is delicious.
“Have you made any decisions?” I ask her as we walk out of Tiffany, our stomachs full.
“There are several things that I’ll go back for,” she says, and I notice right away that she’s slightly limping.
“You’ve been on your feet too long.”
“What?” She glances up at me, and then shakes her head. “No, I’m fine.”
“London, you’re limping. You’re not fine.”
“I am,” she insists. “I’m perfectly capable of finishing the day.”
“Why?” I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and take her shoulders in my hands, making her look up at me. “Why would you do that? We live in this city, London. We can go shopping anytime we want.”
“I don’t want to go another day, I want to go today.” She thrusts her chin in the air and glares at me.
Rather than reply, I pull my cell phone out and call my driver, telling him to pick us up on the corner of Fifth and Fifty-Sixth.
“Didn’t you hear me?” she demands. I see our car turn the corner, coming toward us, and I lean in to press my lips against London’s ear.
“I heard you, but you’re acting like a spoiled brat, and I need to get you in the back of that limo so no one can see me when I spank your ass.”
She gasps and looks up at me in shock when the car comes to a stop at the curb. I hold the door open for her, and once we’re settled inside, I close the partition between us and the driver, and confident that the tinted windows conceal us from anyone outside of the car, I do exactly what I threatened on the sidewalk.