Chapter Eighteen

Bianca

milan, italy

“Oh, doll, we’re going to the Galleria,” Allie joked, pretending to wave a cigarette between her fingers like she was a certain Italian Hollywood sensation.

I leaned back in the car that was driving us to the center of town. “I can hardly believe it.”

Laughing, she sat back and kicked her feet up in front of her, her ankle boots doing a little jig. “Well, believe it, because there was no way I was coming to Milan and not going shopping with you.”

I turned my head to eye her, brushing my hands over the front of my high-waisted, pleated, wide leg black pants. “It is like a tradition, isn’t it?”

“Definitely.” I knew the streets well and we were almost there, but I let my mind wander back to the last time we’d been out here and had gone shopping. Maria and Perla had been with us; Mom, too.

It had been six years ago.

A lot had changed.

Maria had Isabella. Mom was no longer with us.

The memory was bittersweet, but this was exactly what we needed today.

Still looking out the window as we pulled up to our destination, I asked curiously, “Hey, when do you think Maria will bring Isabella to Italy?”

Allie shrugged. “No idea, but it would be cool if it was soon. She’s getting older—”

“And more precocious.” I chuckled as I thought about my precious niece. Sometimes the things that came out of her mouth had me doing a double take.

Laughing with me, Allie went on, “Yes, and that. And I think it’d be fun. We should talk to Maria, see if we can plan something for some girls’ time, maybe before the end of the year.”

As the driver came to a stop, I looked out the window and smiled. The landmark was as beautiful and grand as I remembered. My favorite part was its crowning glory, the glass dome covering the center of the space that spanned between two piazzas, dozens of stores, a hotel, cafés, bars and so much more inside. It was this girl’s playground, to put it mildly.

I tried to convince Dad to let me book my stay at the hotel in the Galleria while I was in town, but there was no convincing him. At the time, Maria had teased me that if anyone could get him to agree to that, it was me. But, alas, she was wrong. I wondered what he’d say if I asked him now.

Probably to bite off. But in Italian. And with a few curse words thrown in for good measure.

The thing was, we still weren’t speaking. I knew that’d have to come to an end eventually, but I was annoyed, and I had every right to be. As the days went on, I was getting over it, but that didn’t mean I was going to break first. When I had to see him, I’d make sure to bring it up, just because it was easier that way, but until then, let him think I was still angry. It served him right.

Nudging me as we walked from the car, Allie cut into my thoughts. “So where to first?” Hooking her arm through mine, she giggled. “I’m thinking I’d like to try wearing a hat, see if it’s my thing.”

“Oh, how very Elizabeth James of you,” I joked as we continued walking. “I know just the store actually.” I pointed to it as we turned the corner. “That’s the one.”

Unlinking our arms, Allie audibly gasped as she spotted a high fashion hat in the window that was perfect for a certain horse race back in the States. “Look at this one,” she said, walking inside.

Finding another excellent option on a mannequin, she plucked it up and placed it on her head. “How do I look?”

I pursed my lips and waved my finger around so she could model it at every angle. I gave her the okay symbol with my fingers and clicked my tongue on the roof of my mouth. “Nonna would approve.”

She took it off, laughing the whole time. “She would wear something like this, wouldn’t she?” Putting it back down, she beamed as she scanned the others on display. “I love all of these.”

“My turn,” I said, placing a gray wool felt cloche on my head. “I feel like I’m ready to go to church on Easter.”

“Very chic,” she said as I posed for her. “Oh, yeah, that’s a good look on you.”

“You think?” I took it off and eyed it, then her. “I feel like I’m totally not a hat girl.”

“I don’t think I am, either,” she confessed, chuckling. “I wish I was. I mean, I love them, but I don’t know.” She picked up another one and spun it around, this one had feathers adorning it. After a minute, she put it back and hooked her arm with mine. “Come on. Where to next? It doesn’t feel right coming to a mall and not walking out with anything.”

“I agree, and I never say no to a new perfume, so let’s shop that.”

“You and your perfumes.” She rolled her eyes. “You and Mom used to love testing new ones. You’d stay in the mall for hours, spraying different ones on those papers.”

I smiled, remembering the memories fondly. “She used to put her favorite one in her purse, said it made it smell good.”

“She was right.”

“Plus,” I started, wagging my brows. “Maybe I’ll find something that will drive Knox wild, so every time he gets a whiff of it, he thinks of me.”

She laughed. “You’re bad, Bibi.”

Shaking her head, she pointed to a store, and I nodded. “Oh, look!” I said louder than I expected, tapping Allie’s hand that was in the crook of my arm again. In the store window was a light pink mini flap bag with the iconic Cs in gold-tone metal.

“It’s a little small,” Allie noted, looking from me to the bag. “Besides a phone and lip gloss, what could you fit in there?”

“It’s not for me,” I explained. “I think it would be a great gift for Isabella. She would love it, don’t you think?”

Allie’s eyes went wide like saucers. “For Isabella? She’s going to be the only kid her age with a designer handbag.” She shook her head. “I think Maria might blow a gasket.”

I brushed her comment off. “Please. Last time Dom was here, he bought her that pink long sleeve with the designer emblem on the chest.” I paused. “She’s definitely spoiled. What’s one more thing?”

Still shaking her head, she looked at me. “Dom is a whole different ball of wax.”

“Yeah, because Maria can never say no to him.” Without hesitating, I declared, “Well, I’m getting it,” deciding on the handbag as we walked in the store.

“Was there ever any doubt you wouldn’t? Once you make up your mind on something, no one’s changing it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Eh, I’m decisive. What can I say?”

Allie coughed, “Insistent,” muttering the word under her breath.

As we split up and began looking around separately, but in close proximity to one another, I asked, “Is Dom modeling in one of the Men’s Spring/Summer fashion shows?” The shows weren’t for a while, but as far as I knew he walked in at least one every season.

She shrugged, grabbing a perfume off the counter and spraying some on the inside of her wrist. “I think Milan, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Then she sniffed her wrist and drew her brows inward, giving me a disgusted look. “Here, smell this.” She extended her arm out and stuck her wrist in my face.

I carefully backed it up and took a whiff. “It’s not bad. I actually like it.”

“What?” she nearly screeched. “It stinks and not in a good way.” She smelled it again before passing it back to me. “What is that anyway?”

I inhaled and then swayed my head back and forth, trying to figure it out. “It smells like grapefruit, to be honest.”

“It burns my nose,” Allie said, “so I guess that would explain it. Do you remember that grapefruit shampoo Perla insisted I try because it smelled ‘so good’?”

I nodded.

“Well, that was when I learned two things. One”—she popped a finger up—“never listen to Perla when it comes to products and two”—she popped another finger up—“I hate the smell of anything citrusy.”

I chuckled and grabbed another one, spraying it in the air and walking in it. “What about this one?” I took a deep breath and inhaled before staring at the green bottle. “It’s zesty.”

Agreeing, she said, “Definitely notes of citrus in that thing.”

“I’m more of a vanilla girl.” Then I chuckled, realizing the dirty irony in what I just said. “Well, I like the smell of vanilla. But I am not vanilla.”

Allie laughed. “Sweetie, no one thought you were vanilla.”

I feigned surprise, but only for a second. Let’s all be honest, no one ever said I was vanilla. “Whatever. Let’s just find me a perfume.”

“What about that one?”

I shrugged, thinking. I did like it. “You know, vanilla has a way of seducing men.”

Laughing, she retorted, “Only you would know that.” Meanwhile, I was busy with the different bottles.