31. Cassie
CASSIE
The metallic gold sandals Tor put on hold for me aren’t the most comfortable shoes I’ve ever tried on, but I think they’ll be fine for the amount of walking he said we’ll have to do tonight, so we buy them.
He tells me I can pick out a purse if I’d like a different one for our evening plans, and now that I have some indication of the color scheme, I look for something that will match the shoes. I find a glittery gold bag, and he nods his approval, so we buy that, too.
Quite a few designer stores are over this way, and he asks if I want to go in. I say okay, but I don’t expect to buy anything. The price tags make my stomach hurt. I’d have to really love something to pay that much for it, even if I could afford to.
Unfortunately, when we get to Dior, I do run into problems.
“Oh no,” I say, grabbing a black-and-tan bag with a pretty gold medallion clasp. “This is so pretty.”
“Yeah? That doesn’t sound like an ‘oh no’ situation,” he tells me. “If you like it, buy it. God knows we need to fill up your closet.”
“I can’t buy it,” I murmur, lifting the flap to look at the interior. “I already bought a purse for tonight.”
“Doesn’t have to be for tonight. Buy both, take whichever one you like once you see the dress, and take both home. There’s no problem here.”
Eyes wide, I show him the price tag.
He doesn’t acknowledge it beyond a nod.
“Did you see both zeros?”
“I did, and I didn’t see a problem. See if there’s anything else you like while we’re here. I should’ve known you’d be a Dior girl.”
I don’t know what that means, but I do slide the purse strap on my shoulder just to see how it feels.
Sadly, I do love it.
And I do want it.
And since he’s so willing to buy it, I don’t think I can say no.
I spend a lot of time looking at the purses. If I had limitless money and no shame, there are at least six I would buy, but I’m happy with the one I picked out.
When I’m finished admiring all the bags, I wander over to Tor by the jewelry case.
“What are you looking at?” I ask him.
“I was thinking you might like a necklace or a bracelet to wear tonight,” he says, looking in the glass case. “See anything you like?”
He’s unfortunately correct about me being a Dior girly because I see many things I like. “I’ve already picked out two bags today. Do you like anything?” I ask him.
He points at a gold bracelet. It’s delicate and lovely with a Dior charm and a single cluster of pearls and gold in the shape of what looks like a daisy. “What about that one?”
The lady behind the counter has been observing us, so she pulls the daisy bracelet out of the case for me to look at. I drape it over my wrist and smile. “I love it.”
“Perfect.” He glances at the saleslady. “We’ll take this and the bag.”
I’m beaming when we leave Dior. I shouldn’t go there ever again because I’ll spend too much money, but I love the items he just bought me. “Thank you,” I say, hugging his bicep.
He moves his arm, settling it around my waist. “You’re welcome.”
We head back toward Times Square, but we take a different route so we can see more of the city. I finally convince him it’s time to get a hot dog, and in an unfortunate turn of events, he’s right about that, too.
“It’s not very good.”
He smirks, snapping a picture of me with my “iconic” New York hot dog and handing back my phone. “I told you.”
I shrug, taking another bite anyway before stuffing my phone back into my little white purse. I wish my skirt had pockets so I could keep it out and easily accessible. Women never get pockets.
We continue down the sidewalk, and when we come across Brooks Brothers, I point it out. “Can we stop in here?”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Sure.”
I eye up the suits on display on the way in. “Everything we’ve bought today is for me. We should pick out something for you, too.”
“I have plenty of clothes. Your collection is just beginning.”
I drag him through the store, intent on finding something he likes. I point out dress pants he would look great in and show him suits and polos.
Somehow, we still end up leaving with a nautical-looking shirt for me. It’s soft, creamy white with blue stripes and long sleeves, and he’s right, it would be nice to wear on the boat one evening, but it was not the reason we went into the store.
We’re right outside Radio City Music Hall, so we stop for a picture.
We start heading back toward the hotel and pass even more food stands that smell delicious.
I wonder if I just picked the wrong hot dog stand, but I imagine we’ll be having dinner soon, so I don’t try my luck with any of the street food.
“Would it be crazy to get another slice of pizza for dinner?” I ask, spotting another one of the pizza shops that are dotted all over this city. “I really liked the pizza.”
“We can get another slice if you want. We have other dinner plans, but not until much later.”
I nod once. “Then I want more pizza.”
I was torn between two slices earlier, anyway, so we head inside so I can try the second one.
After bonus pizza, we explore Times Square for a little while longer until Tor says it’s time to head back to the hotel so we can get ready for our evening plans.
Tor drops my shopping bags on the bed, and I stick the two additional bottles of water we picked up at a Duane Reade into the mini fridge. I walk over to the window so I can soak up the view one more time before we leave again.
Tor unzips the garment bag, and my curiosity takes over.
“Go put this on,” he tells me.
I smile and take the garment bag to the bathroom.
A couple of minutes later, I come out glowing in a gorgeous off-the-shoulder evening gown nearly the same pinky nude color as my nails.
The material is shimmery and romantic with a long flowy skirt that moves as I walk.
I step into the heels he bought me, and I’m pleased to see the dress stops at my ankle, so I won’t be tripping as I walk.
“This is gorgeous, Tor. Thank you so much.”
I spin around to smile at him and find him in the process of fastening his white button-down shirt.
My smile slips, my interest straying from my dress to his body. He looks very good dressed up, and I’m thankful he’s looking like that tonight when it’s not his brother’s funeral so I won’t feel like a ghoul ogling him.
He smirks at my gawking, then pulls on a cream-colored vest.
“Am I getting a three-piece suit tonight?” I ask, impressed.
“Gotta pull out all the stops,” he says, straightening the fit and buttoning the first button. “I’m taking my girl to her first Broadway show.”
“No way,” I say, grinning. “This really is the best date ever. What are we going to see?” I ask, since I pointed out multiple billboards while we were exploring Times Square and told him I wanted to see the shows.
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
I narrow my eyes at him playfully. Tor and his secrets.
While he finishes getting his jacket and shoes on, I switch to my gold purse, promising the Dior I’ll take her for a spin shortly. I’ll probably switch my stuff into it when we get back to the hotel so I can use that one on the plane tomorrow instead of the one I brought with me.
Before we leave, Tor puts on the finishing touch—my daisy bracelet.
I’m so happy as we leave the hotel. I still hold Tor’s hand through the crowded spots—it’s even more crowded than earlier—and I feel a little thrill when I see the Broadway sign.
This time, I don’t just take a picture. We head down Broadway, and when we get to a theater that reads “The Great Gatsby” on the marquee, Tor says, “Here we are.”
I grin at him. “We’re going to see Gatsby?” I hold up the wrist he fastened my daisy bracelet around. “Was this a hint?”
He smirks. “Maybe, but I also figured what better way to commemorate seeing this show than with a daisy bracelet?”
“I didn’t even know there was a Gatsby musical,” I say, looping my arm through his. “This is so cool. You’re a master date-planner. You should go into that career.”
“Nah,” he says. “I’ll save all my date ideas for you.”
___
Gatsby is incredible.
Our seats are perfect, the actors are phenomenal, and the songs… oh, the songs. I tear up once and get goose bumps three times before the show is over.
I’ve never been to a musical before, so I don’t know if this is how it always feels, but I’m floored by the surge of energy and excitement I get from being there, watching the art unfold on the stage right in front of my eyes.
I feel fired up in a way that I recognize, but that no longer feels familiar to me—joyful in a way it’s hard to even explain.
I feel inspired. When we get home tomorrow, I’m going to look up the actor who played Gatsby and listen to every song he’s ever recorded to try to recapture this feeling.
My whole body feels lighter as we leave the theater, and I can’t stop smiling, clutching my playbill and the Gatsby pin Tor bought me to remember the night by.
A rush of people leaves all at once, but Tor pulls me through the crowd and around the corner, only slowing down once we’re well away from the crush.
“What did you think?” he asks.
“Oh my god, I loved it.” I look over at him. “Did you?”
He nods. “Yeah, it was pretty great. And I think we found our wedding song.”
“Which one?”
“‘For Her.’ Gave me goose bumps.”
“Really?” I ask, delighted. “Me too. It was so good. And his voice. The fact that someone was just standing there singing his heart out for us… wow.”
“It’s like that song was made for us.”
I think it’s romantic that he thinks so. I was definitely moved by it, but I’ll have to listen to it again now that I know he was, too. “It was amazing. That’s not a couple song, though. It’s a yearning song, a love song for the girl.”
“It’s a Cassie song.”
I grin. “But a wedding song should be for both of us. I’m so down to pick one of those songs if we do get married, but we should probably go with a duet.”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Sorry. You can pick everything else, but I want that song.”
Usually, I try not to join in when he says crazy things, like wedding planning when we haven’t even been together for a week, but I’m so giddy after the show, I decide to indulge him. “Could we be those people and have a Gatsby wedding?”
“Hell yeah, we can. Make people wear sharp tuxes and flapper dresses. Signature drinks, classy but over-the-top roaring ’20s decorations. Sounds like a fun party to me.”
“We could get a jazz band.” I gasp. “Or a piano singer!”
He drapes an arm over my bare shoulders, pulling me close as we walk. “You can have whatever you want.”
I smile, leaning my head against his chest. “I want to see more Broadway shows.”
“We can definitely do that.”
“Thank you for bringing me here, Tor. New York, the show, all of it. I know I’ve said it dozens of times today, but this was so nice.”
“It’s been a rough week,” he says. “I thought it would be nice to get out of town and see some more of the world. Remind you that where we live is just a tiny, insignificant speck in the scheme of all things.” He looks over at me.
“I meant what I said earlier. We can have a great fucking life together. I wanted you to have a taste of that.”
I sigh, wanting it more in this moment than I can explain, but afraid it’s unattainable for me, too.
“I wish… I wish we would have broken into each other’s lives earlier.
” It’s hard to put into words exactly how I think he would have done it, but I have a feeling that Tor wouldn’t have let me weather all of it alone, that maybe I wouldn’t have taken so much damage if I would’ve had him on my side earlier.
“Yeah,” he sighs. “I wish that, too.”
I don’t want to make the same mistake I made earlier, though, so I shove thoughts like those aside and ask, “Where are we going for dinner?”
“A restaurant over by our hotel. The place rotates slowly while you’re eating, so the view changes throughout the meal.”
“Ooh, that sounds cool.”
“I figured you would think so.”
My dress swishes against my legs as we walk, and the heels make a clicking sound I find quite satisfying.
I never even consider wearing heels because I know how uncomfortable they are, but between the noise they make and how pretty I feel tonight, I may reconsider and get myself a pair of kitten heels for the next time we go out for a night like this one.
I hope we have a lot of nights like this one.