Page 97 of Winter With You

‘Burgers? We don’t eat meat like that in public, remember? We only eat wholegrains and lean protein in line with the healthy body, healthy mind section of the book.’

‘Please, Cheyenne, please, just…’ She wanted to say ‘shut the fuck up’ so badly but this was too important to let her anger speak instead of her heart. ‘Please, sit down with me.’ She took a breath. ‘We are going to have an honest conversation and I’m going to eat a burger.’

Cheyenne huffed out a breath and pulled out a chair. She eyed up the cocktail in front of her and then she picked up the glass and took a sip.

‘OK, so, first of all, I want you to know that I am going to commit to the agreed engagements for the rest of the New York visit. That’s the bookstore signing at Rizzolo Books and the fashion show. But, that’s it, nothing else.’

‘Gabriella, that isn’t your call to make,’ Cheyenne said immediately. ‘It’s my job to find as many openings as possible while we are here. We have a limited time and it’s the run up to Christmas – peak book gifting season – and the Kindle edition has a daily deal on the twenty-third, alongside a global BookBub promotion, remember?’

‘I remember,’ Gabriella answered. ‘But I mean what I said. And if you don’t choose to accept it I just won’t turn up and then it will be embarrassing and you will look bad and I will look bad and All Chapters will look bad and that will damage the book’s reputation anyway. Cancelling or not confirming anything else will be a much better outcome.’

‘May I remind you that the book is due to be put forward for quarterly Prime selection soon. But there are other authors we could get behind instead.’

Gabriella shook her head of this nonsense game-playing. ‘Secondly,’ she continued. ‘At the bookstore signing, I want to be interviewed. It’s an evening event, closed doors, people who have bought tickets. No pre-agreed questions from All Chapters or you. I want an intimate environment.’

Cheyenne’s eyes lit up. ‘No pre-agreed questions? Well, who do you want to interview you? Because it would have to be someone who⁠—’

‘I have someone in mind. You don’t need to worry about that.’

Cheyenne pulled a face now, disgruntled, disagreeable verging on disgusted. ‘This isn’t how things are usually done.’

‘Good,’ Gabriella stated, taking a sip of her drink. ‘It makes me happy to hear that.’ She put her glass down again. ‘The other thing is… there aren’t going to be any more books.’

Cheyenne was mid-sip of her cocktail and she began coughing like she’d inhaled a mouthful of the snowflakes outside and they had all turned into ice blocks in her throat. ‘Whhaaaat?’

‘Have some water,’ Gabriella said, rapidly pouring a glass full from the jug on the table and pushing it towards Cheyenne.

‘I don’t want water,’ Cheyenne said, breath and words definitely catching in her throat. ‘You… don’t know what you’re saying. There have to be more books.’

‘Well, that’s not strictly true. I only signed a contract for one book and the only other clause relating to future work was for All Chapters to have the first look at anything else I write in a similar genre. And I won’t be writing anything else.’

‘Gabriella, this is ridiculous talk. I don’t know what’s happened since we’ve been here in New York but I thought we were all on the same page as to what we all wanted from the future.’

‘Mmm,’ Gabriella said, her index finger running around the rim of her cocktail glass. ‘The thing is, Cheyenne, sadly the page I was on, perhaps the same page as you, wasn’t the page I should have been on. Because the pages, and the chapters, and the words were made up of half-truths, truths hidden and not enough actual factual content. In fact, when you took out my sister’s poetry and her artwork, all that was left was editorial bullshit. Not my words, the words of someone who was trying to sell a lifestyle off the back of a family’s tragedy. And these new books… I’m sorry but no one gets to make my sister’s life and how it ended into clickbait.’

There was no stopping now.

‘But, Cheyenne, you were right. My sister’s death wasn’t an accident. And, Lulu, she wasn’t a frail, up-and-coming artist who lit up a room and was a friend to everyone,’ Gabriella said. ‘She was a twenty-nine-year-old single mother who battled depression and found the world complicated to navigate. She hated socialising as much as she loved it and no two days with her were the same. She didn’t drink matcha. She thought she was allergic to exercise because her skin turned red when she did it. She would buy anything if it was pink. And, despite all that, or maybe even because of it, I adored her and I miss her.’ She sighed. ‘I thought that writing Zero Fucks Given was going to keep me closer to her and help people like her, but I missed the whole point.’ She took a breath. ‘People shouldn’t be told what to do. Especially if they’re vulnerable. People should be, I don’t know, asked how they are. Twice at least. Because the first time everyone lies that they’re fine, right? And then they should be supported and comforted and encouraged, not told that how they’re feeling is wrong or what they’re doing isn’t enough. Because sometimes just surviving is exhausting.’ She took a stronger breath. ‘We shouldn’t be giving people a ten-point bullet list of a daily routine, we should be making sure there are more places people can go when they’re not feeling OK. Places where people will listen. We shouldn’t be trying to better people. We should try to be better people.’

And as Gabriella delivered that last line, she didn’t look to see Cheyenne’s reaction, didn’t care for it, she gazed out into the night sky, up at the stars and watched as they danced just for her.

58

LA FAÇON, MANHATTAN

Luca walked into the treasure trove cupboard and breathed in deep. Nothing. This morning he just couldn’t smell anything. Not his takeout coffee on the way here, not the delivery of items from new designer, Andrea Boski, not his fail-safe go-to – the lace. Nada. He knew why. It was because last night hadn’t gone so well with Steffi. She had been excited to see him at the family home, smiled joyfully when she realised their mom had made her signature bolognese, but once he had told her he had been the one to effectively incarcerate their father and about Babbo’s plan, the smiles had turned to tears and she had put the blame firmly on Luca’s shoulders. He knew it would take time. It was a lot to take on board.

‘Mr Manning,’ Sybille’s voice called. ‘Are you hiding in here?’

He took a breath. Hiding. No, he wasn’t going to be doing that anymore. He stepped out into the main room and there was his boss and, next to her, Errol.

‘Good morning, Sybille,’ Luca greeted. ‘Hey, Errol.’

‘So, the big boss gets “good morning” and I get a “hey”? I thought I was joining a high-class establishment here.’

Luca smiled. ‘Good morning, Errol. And did I hear the word “joining”?’

‘You did,’ Sybille answered. ‘We have not come to a final arrangement on terms yet. Mr Dalton is a fine negotiator. However, we have decided on one thing. Mr Dalton will report to you, Mr Manning. You will be responsible for teaching him how we work at La Façon and he will work directly for you and your clients until he eventually establishes his own client base.’ She paused and then quickly added, ‘If you agree, of course.’