We left the little souvenir shop still laughing over Xavier’s bubble incident.“I’m deleting that picture the moment you forget about it,” he muttered.“You wish.”“I do.”“I’ve already decided it’s going into my collection.”“What collection?”“The one where I gather evidence that Xavier Crest is, in fact, capable of having fun.”He gave me a sidelong glance.“I’ve made one mistake today.”“No.”“You’ve witnessed one.”I laughed.“Fair enough.”The farther we walked into Bellagio, the narrower the streets became.Every corner revealed another hidden treasure.Tiny family-owned boutiques displayed handmade leather journals, silk scarves, woven hats, and delicate jewelry crafted by local artisans.One shop had shelves lined entirely with hand-painted ceramic dishes.I stopped immediately.“They’re beautiful.”Each plate featured vibrant lemons, olive branches, and tiny blue flowers, carefully painted on.I picked up a small ceramic mug.“Look at this.”Xavier examined it.“It’s nice.”
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