“Oh relax, I’ll screenshot the bits where Paul Hollywood’s flashing his baby blues and giving that dismissive-sexy look,” Sebastian snapped back. “And you know how watching someone fall apart over a botched crème patissière relaxes Reine.”
“Fine,” Luis replied, “but don’t you dare watch bread week without me. You know I need all the tips I can get for my banana bread.”
“Oh, you and your banana bread,” Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Every time I suggest a bit of light baking, you bring up your banana bread. It isn’tthatspecial. Every man and his dog can make banana bread, Luis.”
“Not with my passionfruit and cream cheese frosting,” Luis said indignantly.
“You mean the gloop that turns a perfectly serviceable bread into a sickly cake? Hate to break it to you, but yes, they can.”
“Sickly?” Luis looked affronted. “My banana cake isn’t sickly!”
“Look, all I’m saying is that if you’re going to make a fruit cake—”
“Banana cake isn’t fruit cake.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I mustn’t have got that memo from the Worldwide Food Organisation announcing banana’s transition from fruit to protein. Silly me.”
“Sebastian, Luis—” Ari began, rubbing her eyes.
“You’re just being pedantic,” Luis said, crossing his arms. “Banana cake is not a fruit cake.”
“Luis—” Ari tried again.
“My God, Luis,” Sebastian stood taller, shifting Reine in his arms. “How many times do we have to have this conversation? I’ve told you for years,all banana cakes are fruit cakes but not all fruit cakes are banana cakes. It’s so simple, so—”
“Sebastian—” Ari said, her patience dissipating.
“I don’t think banana cake is a fruit cake,” Reine piped up, and at that, Ari’s patience finally snapped.
“Can you two quit it!” she snapped. “Now you’ve got Reine talking about flipping banana cake!”
Sebastian and Luis, to their credit, instantly fell silent.
“Look, honey, just don’t watch bread week,” Luis said eventually, looking placatingly at Sebastian. “That’s all I’m asking.”
Sebastian sighed. “You know I wouldn’t. I know bread week is your favourite.”
Luis nodded. “Thanks. I’ll only be a minute or two with Ari here anyway.”
“Fine, fine, fine,” Sebastian shrugged. He put Reine down. “Go and say goodnight to your mum, love.”
Ari gazed miserably at the little figure of Reine through her tear-misted eyes. The little girl must have sensed her sadness, because she suddenly flung her arms around Ari’s neck, hugging her tightly.
“We need to get out of here,” Ari tried again, holding back her tears as she held her daughter tight. “We can’t stay here.”
“Ari,” came Sebastian’s voice, light with warning, before he pulled Reine from her arms. “Come on, miss. Let’s get you settled. And have a little talk about fruit cake.”
Ari watched as Sebastian carried Reine away, feeling panic begin to build within her once more. Her chest felt tight and her pulse raced, while her skin felt clammy with cool sweat.
“Luis,” she said brokenly, “Luis, we can’t stay here, we can’t, we have to get out of here—”
“Ari,” Luis said calmly, sitting on the bed next to her, taking her hand. “Take a deep breath, honey.”
“I can’t, I just can’t.”
“Ari.” Luis shifted so that Ari was facing him. He squeezed her hand lightly. “If you walk away tonight, and take that littlegirl—who is full of perfectly valid questions right now, by the way—with you, you’re only delaying the inevitable.”
Ari sniffed, nodding miserably and wiping her eyes. “I know. I just... I just don’t want to—” she looked at Luis with helpless eyes “—it wasn’t meant to be like this, Luis. It wasn’t meant to be like this at all.”
