“Yes,” she admits with a swallow. “One does.”
He nods — understanding passes through them. Their eyes lock momentarily, and it feels like homecoming. She watches as Tom tears his eyes from her to turn back to the controls, but Ari continues to watch him, relishing in the knowledge that, at last, she’s found her way.
It shouldn’t be possible to fall in love so quickly,Ari thinks. But somehow, she already has.
* * *
An insistent tapping woke Ari from her sleep. Turning over on the soft mattress, buried under a layer of thick blankets,she tried to push the noise from her mind. Although exhausted, she’d stayed awake as long as she could the night before, trying to beat the inevitable jetlag, finally falling into bed a little after midnight. Now, after what felt like the blink of an eye, she was awake again, although her body and mind were tired, weighed down by the long day before. Glancing at her phone briefly, she took in the time with disbelief.
“No,” she muttered into her pillow. “It’s six fifty-three in the morning. Go away, Sebastian. I need more sleep.”
The tapping continued, however, and Ari gave a long, resigned sigh.
“Fine, fine, fine,” she complained. “I’ll wake up. But this had better be worth it—”
She sat up, turning towards the doorway and instantly turning pale. Because standing in the doorway, immaculately made up, her jet-black hair slicked back from her pale face, while one of her heeled feet tapped irritably on the floor, stood Stella Snow.
“Stella,” Ari spluttered, jumping out of bed and snatching up her robe. “Stella, how nice to see you, how nice to—” She stopped, looking at Stella keenly. “Um... What are you doing here? At...” she checked the time once more “. . . six fifty-four in the morning?”
“The little blond-haired man called me,” Stella said smoothly, one heel still tapping. “Some sort of...” she gave a dismissive wave of her hand, “. . . wedding photography emergency, apparently. I checked my calendar. I had a fifteen-minute window of time available, so here I am.”
“A fifteen-minute window at six fifty-four in the morning?” Ari queried. “That’s very, um, precise.”
“The little blond-haired man assured me this wedding would be worth my while. So, I made an effort.”
“At six fifty-four in the morning?” Ari asked again.
“I was in New York on a shoot forVogueyesterday,” Stella explained blandly. “That finished at 2a.m., at which point I read the little blond-haired man’s message. My next shoot doesn’t begin until 11a.m., so my assistant and I jumped in the car and made our way here.”
“Wow, that’s really, um, good of you to come so quickly. The bride will appreciate it. Obviously, so do Sebastian and I, and I really hope that—”
“I haven’t agreed to do the wedding yet, Ms Lightowler,” Stella reminded her. “You have ten minutes to convince me it’s a good idea.”
“Oh.” Ari frowned. “But I thought you had a fifteen-minute window of time?”
“I did,” Stella said shortly. “But you’ve wasted five minutes of that in making me explainwhyI had a fifteen-minute window of time. You’re down to ten.”
Ari nodded, mute with terror of this woman. Where the fuck was Sebastian? He was always best at dealing with Stella. There was a reason he was the client manager, while she did the behind-the-scenes work.
“Okay, well, let me just—wait, I’ll get Sebastian, he can at least show the venue and—”
“There’s no need. I’ve been here before,” Stella cut in, and Ari stared at her.
“You’ve been here before?”
“Yes,” Stella replied idly, her face still rigidly unmoving. “I photographed Marnie Somerset forEsquire... When was it? Four? Five years ago? We took a few shots here, and a few in Paris.”
Paris.The word hit Ari with a jolt, and she bit her lip, hoping the physical pain would stop the emotions from cutting through her.
Stella, however, was as sharp as her nails. “What is it?” she asked. “You look distressed, and your pain is exquisite. I wish I had my camera with me to capture it.”
“Oh . . . I . . . it’s just, I went to Paris once. I went with someone I cared for. I, um . . .”
Abruptly, Stella looked bored. “I have no time for tawdry stories of love affairs, Ms Lightowler. I’m here to photograph a wedding.”
“Isn’t a wedding, um, a love story?”
For a moment, Stella stared at her in wonder. “The very idea.” She laughed, and the sound was odd, coming from her unmoving lips.
