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Connorthrew up his hands. ‘She’stold meI’mnever allowed to do another shoot withValentinaagain.Butshe’ll come around when she accepts that one shoot withValentinapays for one year of school forGrace.Privateschool fees are ridiculous around here.Almosteight grand per term.’
Krishhad never heardConnorworrying about money before.Perhapsthe six months away had put a bigger dent in their finances than he had thought. ‘Iseverything okay?Isthe business okay?’ he asked.
‘Oh, yeah!Fine,’ saidConnor, wiping a towel across his face and throwing it towards the stairs. ‘ButifI’mgoing to take on fewer weddings whileIbuild up my fashion portfolio,Ineed to make sure my family is provided for whileIdo it.’
Thatmade sense. ‘Sono more shoots withValentina, huh?Goodluck breaking the news to her.’Hedidn’t envyConnorthat job.Valentinawas spoiled and not used to hearing the word no.Shewould make it as difficult as she could forConnorto walk away from her.
KrishexpectedConnorto roll his eyes, maybe smile and make a joke.Buthe just took another sip from his water bottle and stared fixedly into the middle distance.Krishpursed his lips.HehopedConnorwouldn’t do anything stupid.
Ayawn unexpectedly came overKrish, and he hid it behind a fist.Todayhad been both emotional and tiring with the shoot,Francesca’srobbery, and then this.Hewanted to escape toJess’sflat for someTLC. ‘So…we’re good?’
‘Ofcourse we’re good.’Connorclapped him on the back.
AsKrishslipped out after saying his goodbyes, his desire to celebrate was tinged with a touch of worry.WouldConnorandStellabe alright?Krishwas walking away from more than just a job; the people who lived in that house were family.HewasGrace’sgodparent along withClaudia, after all.Thehealth ofGrace’sparents’ relationship mattered to him.
Heexhaled.Hecouldn’t think about that right now.Instead, he pulled out his phone and textedJessto chill the champagne.
9
Mondaydawned hot,but pain-free.
Everymorning after she opened her eyes,Francescawould lie in bed for a few minutes and concentrate on each part of her body, determining where it sat on a scale of one to ten.Today, nothing.Sheblew out a sigh of relief, especially as the first item on her to do list was a session with her personal trainer—a perk paid for by her parents.Shedidn’t like asking them for money, but when it came to her health and managing her symptoms, she didn’t have a choice.Sothey paid for herPT, her nutritionist, and any other private healthcare appointments that popped up.
Armssore and clothes sweaty after her session, she trekked toTottenhamCourtRoadand a cramped, dark help desk at the back of a shop crowded with all things computerised.Thetechnician, a hairy, heavyset man with supersized ears supporting the weight of his thick glasses, estimated it would cost £500 for him to get all her deleted wedding files off the cards—half of the price she had been expecting.Bonus.
Afterward, she hurried home to let in the pest control man, who set some traps and dropped poison under the cabinets.Jobdone.Takethat,Ratty.Feelinglike she’d already accomplished a lot, she changed into a pair of shorts and tank top and stuffed her computer in her pack.Shedecided to walk to her new office (42 minutes door-to-door).Sheliked to walk when she could, especially as she spent so much time at her desk, and besides, exercise was good for her symptom control.Onthe way, she mentally catalogued the rest of herToDolist, which included a backlog of weddings to edit and downloading a short registry wedding she’d filmed over the weekend.
Attwo o’clock, she picked up her new set of keys and a swipe card fromMickat the front desk, even managing some friendly small talk about the heat, then rode the lift up to her temporary office.Asthe lift doors opened, she heard the unmistakable, unpleasant cacophony ofPeterCetera’swhiny singing voice intermixed with the whirr of a drill.
Beforeshe went in, she peeked through the porthole window and had to catch her breath.Sawdustdanced in the rays of sunshine coming through a skylight.Krishwas building the partition wall he’d mentioned; bits of wood and boxes fromIkealittered the floor space.
Andhe was half naked.
Beadsof sweat rolled down his skin.Hisback and shoulder muscles undulated as he sawed at a piece of wood and then hammered it to another.Heswiped his forearm along his hairline before taking a long swig from a water bottle.Timehad definitely dulled her memory of his torso.He’dalways been muscular, but had he always beenthismuscular?
Somebodypass her aDietCoke.
Shetook a step back from the door, mindful that she didn’t want him to catch her leering at him.Thesuspicion that this whole venture was a bad idea barged into her thoughts, again.Shechewed at her lip.Well, she was already here.Nogoing back now.
Squaringher shoulders,Francescastepped into the room and waited for him to notice her. ‘Somebody’sbeen eating theirWeetabix,’ she quipped when his eyes rose up from his woodworking project.
‘Hey,Francesca,’ he said as he grabbed for a maroon t-shirt and slid it over his head.Everthe gentleman.Shewas tempted to tell him not to bother on her account.
‘Sorryabout all the mess.’Hewaved his hand to indicate the whole room.
‘Youstill listen to this crap?’Shewaved her hand to indicate the cringeworthy music.
Asmile rippled across his face, making her breath hitch in her throat. ‘Chicagois the best band to come out of the sixties.’
‘Aucontraire, my friend.TheRollingStones,TheDoors,TheWho…Iknow whoI’dback in a street fight.’
Helaughed and turned down his music.Shepushed down the lingering tremor of attraction and made a beeline for the editing room.Shewasn’t looking forward to setting up her monitors and computer.
Shestepped into the room to find it smelled of fresh paint, the walls already covered in the 18% grey colour perfect for editing spaces.Dark,Romanblinds blocked out the light of the only window.Ontop of that, a bank of whiteIkeadesks ran around the perimeter.Herworkstation was already set up.
Francescagrinned. ‘Krish!Ohmy god.Icould have done this.Youdidn’t have to—’
‘It’sfine.I’vebeen working flat out all weekend to get everything ready.’
