“It’s tacky to tout for business inVogue, Luis,” he’d shouted.
“It’sVogue.” Luis had shrugged, completely perplexed. “The whole magazine is wall-to-wall adverts. I thought I was doing you a favour, Sebastian.”
“A favour?! A fuc—” Quickly, Ari had shot Sebastian a stern look, before nodding at her daughter, Reine, who had been lying on the floor, casually colouring in. Now, the little girl was looking up at her uncles, crayons temporarily forgotten, wide-eyed and curious. Sebastian stopped, taking a deep breath. “Afudgingfavour? Look, I don’t mind when you send your brides in our direction, Luis. A casual mention here and there is one thing, but a full-blown call-out inVogueis quite another. We’re meant to be a classy, exclusive establishment. Not a tacky, grubbing-for-business—”
“Vogueis classy and exclusive!” Luis had yelled. “Why do you think they wanted me?”
“Oh, let’s not get too big for our britches, shall we?” Sebastian had retorted.
Luis then stepped towards Sebastian, his anger no longer explosive but smouldering. “Youlikethe fact that I’m too big for my britches, Sebastian.”
“That’s it.” Ari had stood up and gathered her things. “You’re veering into PG13 territory. I’m taking Reine and going.”
Both Luis and Sebastian spun to look at her, guilt flashing across their faces.
“No, honey.” Luis had cleared his throat. “The two of you can’t leave. I brought back apricot nectar from Paris. We’re going to havepoulet aux abricots et riz sauvagetonight.”
Now, Ari watched with dismay as Sasha passed the magazine to Sebastian, whose face was pale.
“You want this dress?” He pointed to a frothy white number, and Sasha’s face lit up.
“That’s the one,” she squealed. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Sebastian nodded slowly. “She wants a De León dress, Ari.”
“Of course, I’d like to make some changes,” Sasha carried on. “But that’s easy enough, right?”
For a moment Sebastian was silent, and Ari could see him mentally weighing up his options in his head. Turn Sasha down, and risk losing their biggest potential client to date — as well as their move into the North American market — or call his husband and ask for a monumental favour, sealing the deal on this wedding.
“We can probably organise something,” Sebastian said quietly. “I should tell you, Luis De León is actually my husband.”
For a moment, both Marnie and Sasha were quiet. But it was only for a moment. Then Sasha squealed, throwing her arms around Sebastian and hugging him tightly.
“You had one of those gay weddings?” she asked excitedly.
Sebastian shrugged. “Well, we hadawedding.”
“Well, this is justperfect,” Sasha clapped her hands. “Now you can get me my dress. And obviously I’ll want Stella Snow to take the photographs, so...”
At that, Ari held up a hand. “You want Stella too?”
“Well, yes, obviously. I told you—I want the best of the best.”
“Stella is . . . very difficult,” Ari began slowly.
But Sasha shrugged. “If you can get me my De León dress, you can get me Stella Snow.”
Ari paused. She hadn’t been lying — Stella Snow was difficult, in every sense of the word. But she glanced at Sebastian, who nodded slowly. Clearing her throat and breathing deeply, aware of Marnie Somerset’s sharp eyes upon her, she gave Sasha a soft smile.
“She’s also horrifically expensive,” Ari carried on, “we know so many other photographers who are just as good, and—”
“I don’t want good,” Sasha cut in, her tone suddenly razor sharp. “I want thebest. Why isn’t she listening to me?” shewhined to Sebastian, who tutted and gave Sasha a good-natured pat on the shoulder.
“Ari, darling, if Sasha here wants Stella, we’ll get her Stella,” he said. “After all, if the wedding is going to be on...” he glanced at his notebook surreptitiously “. . . the twenty-ninth of October next year, then—”
“This year,” Sasha corrected him. “Tom and I want to get married this year.”
Ari’s mouth dropped open. “But that’s... seven weeks away. We can’t get Stella in seven weeks. We can’t get a De León bespoke dress in seven weeks. We can’t do anything in just seven weeks. Are you sure you can’t push the date back?”
