Page 6 of Shout Out To My Ex

‘And what if it’s the only case on offer?’

‘Hah!’ I laugh. He frowns, slightly stung. ‘Sorry, Tris, I didn’t mean to be condescending. I just thought you were joking.’ He shrugs and I land a conciliatory kiss on his lips. ‘Do you remember our first meeting?’

He nods, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

‘And do you remember being rude and impossible?’

He barks out a laugh, scrubbing his face with one hand as if to erase the memory.

‘So, that’s a yes,’ I continue. ‘Well, you might also recall that I mentioned a waitlist.’

He drops his hand from his face and meets my eye. ‘Vaguely. I may have been a little inside my own head.’

I plant a kiss on his cheek. ‘Just a little, darling.’

We regard each other a moment and he lifts his head to kiss me.

‘Anyway,’ I say, resuming the conversation, ‘I have several prospective clients in my inbox – and I haven’t even cleared it yet – so I’ll meet with the sister tomorrow, then decide whether to take the case.’

He’s quiet for a moment, contemplative. ‘Why did you takemycase?’ he asks softly, the question –andhow he’s asked it – a glimpse into his huge and vulnerable heart.

I run my forefinger along his jawline. ‘Because I like a challenge,’ I reply.

He sniggers and wraps me up in his arms. ‘And thank god for that,’ he says, his mouth against my hair.

3

ELLE

‘This is coming along brilliantly,’ I say to Zara, my assistant designer. I circle the dress form and admire the single-breasted linen jacket.

‘I’m just not sure about this,’ she replies, running her forefinger along the raw edge at the neckline.

I step back to better scrutinise it, squinting slightly. ‘Mmm.’

‘What if we…’ She tucks the edge under on one side of the ‘V’, pins it, then stands beside me to get a better look.

We’re both staring at it when Cassie bursts in. ‘You are never going to believe this! Wait, what are you looking at?’ She glances between us and the dress form.

‘The neckline,’ I say.

Cassie joins us and angles her head. ‘Hemmed,’ she says right as I say, ‘Raw.’

Zara sniggers softly. ‘So, a raw edge then?’ she asks cheekily, removing the pins.

I give Cassie my attention just in time to catch her eye roll. ‘Don’t be like that.’

‘You never take my suggestions,’ she says with a (faux) pout.

‘Me, genius fashion designer,’ I say, pressing a finger to my chest. ‘You?—’

She cuts me off. ‘Yes, yes, all right. Anyway, I have news,’ she adds, brightening up in an instant.

‘I’m all ears but walk with me – I need to check the fabric bolts that came in overnight.’

We head towards the other end of the workroom, which bustles with activity. The autumn/winter collection will launch in just under a month and we’re all hands on deck, the entire team busy cutting, sewing, and fitting.

‘Three words,’ says Cass. ‘Paris. Fashion. Week.’

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