Page 22 of Winter With You

‘I will get your drawing on the cover again, Lulu. And the poems put back. There will be other editions and then there’s the second book⁠—’

They don’t appreciate true artistry.

Gabriella smiled.

You know I’ve always wanted to dance here. The lights are brighter, yet the stars are brighter too. Isn’t that silly?

Gabriella looked to the night sky. She couldn’t see many stars for the light pollution but there were some, perhaps planets rather than stars and then a beautiful moon.

I’m closer to them than you.

Gabriella swallowed, grief pinching. She wished Lulu wasn’t closer to the stars. She wished she was here. With her.

But do you know what’s even brighter than all the stars?

‘Hopefully not that green cover,’ Gabriella replied. ‘I don’t want to be forever known as the author who blinded a talk-show host.’

My Phoebe.

Gabriella held on to the burger and tried to hold on to her emotions.

I was never the strong one. You are, Ella-Bella. And you make Phoebe stronger too.

‘You were stronger than you ever got to realise,’ Gabriella whispered into the dark.

Maybe I can be stronger exactly where I am.

She took a breath and put what was left of the burger back into the wrapper. ‘Maybe you can.’ She tightened the paper until it was in a neat package. ‘Maybe you will.’

Go to bed, Sleepyhead.

‘Goodnight, Lulu.’

15

LA FAÇON, MANHATTAN

Luca was on his third double espresso. Another night of barely any sleep and he needed to be on his game for this meeting. He had three outfits on mannequins in the centre of the space, but he wasn’t 100 per cent confident with any of them. This was not usual. Styling had always come so naturally to him. He just had an eye for how things went together and fitted with a person. He couldn’t explain exactly why but it was undeniable fact. And then everything he had so far learned from his mentor, Sybille, had enhanced his ability further. But today, these looks… He checked his watch. He had an hour. But starting again? From scratch? It was an insane idea however… he put his fingers to the neckline of the bronze dress.

‘Hey, where’s the woman?’

Luca’s hand dropped away and he turned in the direction of the man’s voice. He didn’t need to see to know who it was but this was unexpected.

‘Mr Torres,’ Luca greeted.

‘Yeah, no shit, buddy. But I’m not here for you.’

This guy was a complete jerk from his too-shiny shoes that were fide but frankly looked cheap, to whatever paste was turning his hair into dark, greasy macaroni. And he stank. Of scotch.

‘Ms Legrand isn’t here right now. Is she expecting you?’

‘Like an appointment kind of expecting me?’ Benoit asked, eyes a little crazed, demeanour definitely off.

‘Yes, like that,’ Luca answered.

‘You know who I am, right?’

Total dick. Luca smiled. ‘Of course, Mr Torres, that’s why I called you by your name. And you said “yeah, no shit, buddy”.’