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With the finalhour of our wedding upon us, my wife is pretty tipsy. She’s danced with all my friends and all of hers, even Isla who seemed determined not to go to sleep until very late. And she’s stood by my side and met every industry insider and fashionista that I work or collaborate with.
She’s charmed them all.
Despite a five-month-old newborn, Kate and Daw are still partying. As I understand it, Kate had some pretty wild days in her late teens and it shows when she’s on the dance floor. Their son, Theo Dawlish, sleeps in a nearby pram while Olivia is already down for the night in their room. Their friend, Damini, a guest of mine too, has volunteered to babysit tonight for which they’re grateful.
“I’ll show you a picture,” Kate tells my wife, picking her phone out of Daw’s jacket pocket and skimming through her photo app. For the past few minutes, they’ve been discussing the elegant tiara I made for Ava, one she wears with grace. “Will Dawlish senior commissioned it for me,” Kate continues. “I inherited it.”
Ava’s gaze bounces between Daw and Kate. “Right, along with the houses and the boat and the gold bullion.”
“Yeah,” Kate confirms with a quick laugh before showing Ava a photo.
“Oh wow. It’s beautiful,” she says looking at me because she knows it’s a De Vries. “And you look gorgeous. I’m so happy for you, and for the family and life you’re creating for yourselves. I love a happy ending.”
“You have your own,” Kate murmurs affectionately. “Because you guys are going to have an awesome life. We’re so happy for you both. Sad,” she tags on, “that you’re over here, but that’s just an excuse to visit.”
“Come whenever you like. Max can’t buy a house unless there are a minimum of four bedrooms.”
“I’m right here,” I point out.
“And at least three reception rooms.”
Kate laughs at Ava’s teasing. “We’ve been to Hampstead, but we’d love to see the Manhattan apartment. The pictures of the sunset you sent look incredible!”
Daw threads his arms around his wife’s middle, resting his cheek against her temple but looking at me. “A little bird told me there’s a special garter under that dress. You seen it yet?”
Ava’s eyes fly to mine. Curious and very interested, I raise a brow because I’m dying to get under the dress myself. “Let’s see,” I press, moving closer and gathering up her hand.
Taking that as her cue, she props her open-toe shoe on the edge of a low table and invites, “If you wanna see it . . . ”
Carefully, I roll back layers of flowing silk up and over her knee, exposing cream stockings, a suspender and a hint of barely-there lingerie. But it’s the cream and orange knitted garter that my eyes zero in on. Immediately, I know what it is, and not only am I in awe of the thoughtfulness but I’m thrilled to my bones.
“You knitted me a tiny scarf,” I murmur, folding my fingers around the elastic and sliding it down her thigh. “A garter of orange hearts.” I trail the material over her knee and down her calf before slipping off her shoe and pulling it off her foot. “I hope there are some wonky ones—those are my favourite.”
Ava laughs happily. “Of course there are! I still can’t knit.”
I can’t help but find similarities between her damaged, knitted hearts and her own damaged heart, one I was responsible for. I hope I’ve proven how worthy I am of tending to it now, of restoring it.
As I look over the stretchy garment, Ava points to each knobbly-bottomed, or arrow-headed heart, giggling into my arm.
“It’ll be a new line for sure,” Ellis quips, having joined us for the big reveal.
I cast my eye over him, refusing to say I’m already finding inspiration from Ava’s design, one that could see rubies fashioned into hearts and set amongst frosted diamonds. “How’s Josie?” I ask.
Kate, Daw and Ava chuckle, seeing what I see, which is Ellis knowing exactly where Josie is. His eyes go straight to her position before looking away. “We’ve talked.”
“Uh-huh,” I lead. “And how’s your night looking?”
He grins, swigging from his beer and refusing to say anything on the matter.
“I think that’s my cue to go and interrogate Josie, but first,” Ava leads, “who wants to join us in Canada for some skiing in the New Year?”
We need to make use of the chalet we won in the charity auction. It sleeps ten so I’m hoping Daw and Kate, Mal and Millie, Laurence andsomeone, and maybe Ellis and whoever the flavour of the month is want to come with us.
“Skiing?” Millie asks. She might have rejected her title and estate for the love of trouble maker Mal, but she still looks every inch the Lady she was born to be: long blonde hair is styled into something sleek and sophisticated; she carries herself with poise and decorum. But inside the walls of her newly-built home she’s in hole-y leggings and worn boots. And if I’m not mistaken there are some extra tattoos on her wrists.
Mal catches me looking at them, his eyes dark and meticulous. His mouth shifts into a barely-there smile. I love the guy, but he prefers to give off adon’t fuck with mevibe. Our friendship soon got past his hang-ups, and we’ve collaborated on some projects over the last couple of years.
“I’ll give it a go,” Millie enthuses looking at Mal.
