Watching Jason enter the department store with Chantel the following week reminds Vanya of the first time he saw him. The big change is that he’s confident instead of skulking behind displays this time, acting like he belongs in this high-end retail environment now he’s dressed with more care. There’s no plaster dust across his shoulders today or black eye detracting from his plain and simple good looks. No, this man is a different person, as his smile proves when he lays eyes on Vanya and quickly strides towards him.

Anna nudges him with her elbow. “Is that him?” She stands a little straighter. “And that’s her?” Her words come out clipped and worried. “Do you think he will really pay us?”

“He’ll pay you.” He’s absolutely done with taking Jason’s money.

“What if she’s a bridezilla?”

Anna’s nervous, Vanya guesses, remembering all over again how he felt in the same situation. “It’s going to be fine. Chantel will be grateful not demanding.” For a moment, guilt pricks at him. This might a business arrangement, but it involves people he knows rather than strangers, and that makes a real difference.

He’ll do anything he can to help make Chantel’s big day perfect.

It’s the least he can do if coming clean himself isn’t an option quite yet.

That resolve has Vanya greeting Chantel with genuine warmth. “Hi.” He kisses her cheeks twice, provoking startled laughter. “Is good to see again.”

“Yes.” Her voice comes out breathy. “It’s lovely to see you too.” Her gaze darts to Jason. “Like it was lovely that you met me off the train. You didn’t have to do that. I could have found my way here.”

“It was no problem,” Jason says, like he means it. He greets Anna. “Thanks for fitting us into your schedule.”

“Where would you like to start?” Anna sounds stiff until Chantel gushes.

“I have no idea!” She’s hopelessly honest, wringing her hands as she adds, “My fiancé has been married before, and he said it was easy. ‘Just buy a dress,’ he said, but now it’s getting closer, and I still haven’t found one that I like.”

Anna thaws, the death grip she has on the clipboard she carries gradually relaxing. “You don’t have a dress yet?” She scribbles a few words. “I can help with that. Unless that’s something you want to save for your mother or a sister to help with?”

Chantel’s headshake is quick. “No. I don’t….” She doesn’t finish the sentence. She’s only ever mentioned her father, Vanya recalls. Her expression telegraphs enough to prevent more probing.

“Okay?” Anna quickly moves on. “What about a venue?”

“That’s already booked. We’re getting married at a country hotel close to our cottage.” Then she verbally stumbles. “I mean close to my fiancé’s cottage. And yours, of course,” she quickly tacks on. Her face twists like her hands as she glances at Jason. “Is it weird that we’re both going to live there full-time? I keep meaning to ask you.”

“It’s good, as long as I’m still welcome.”

“Of course.” Chantel curls a hand around his. “I…. Of course you are, Jason. You always will be. Always.” They share a moment of silence that ends when Anna reads from a wedding checklist.

“How many guests?”

“Maybe thirty?” A slight blush pinks Chantel’s cheeks. “I know that’s not a lot. I should be able to manage a small wedding on my own, but I had to cover for someone at work, and that’s sucked up a lot of time. Mostly….” Her hesitation comes with a quick glance in Jason’s direction. “Mostly I just want it to be good enough. All of my fiancé’s friends are so posh. Apart from you, Jason!” she quickly adds. “You’re nothing like how I imagined.” That slight blush deepens. “I… I mean.” Her eyes close for a moment. “I meant his other friends and colleagues. I don’t want them to think I don’t know what I’m doing. It might reflect badly on him professionally. So I was thinking about something like this?” She opens a folder full of glossy photos snipped from magazines or printed from webpages. Vanya catches a glimpse of a formal table setting that is sleek and sophisticated. “I think they’ll expect something like this.”

Anna speaks before Chantel can continue. “This is what you want?” Her tone is gentle rather than its earlier brittle. “Wedding should be perfect for you.” Frown lines mar her smooth brow. She taps one of the pictures. “A wedding like this will be expensive.” Her gaze flicks at Vanya. He can almost guess that she’s wondering about their budget. “Who is…?”

“Paying for the wedding?” It’s Chantel’s turn to cast a quick glance, but it lingers on Jason. “My dad always said he would. It was a big deal to him.” Her shrug is tiny. “I’m his only daughter.” Then she straightens her spine. “But that’s so old fashioned. I definitely want to buy my own dress.”

Anna takes her folder from her. “Why don’t we start with that while you’re here? And if we can’t find a perfect gown here, I can make alterations.” She tilts her own chin like she relishes the challenge.

“You can?” Chantel’s shoulders drop with relief.

“Yes.” Anna’s far from nervous right now. She’s lit from inside instead, Vanya notices, just like the first time they looked around the abandoned building that she’s made look special. A similar energy has her urging Chantel forward.

“Come,” she instructs. “We will find the dress first. Everything else will follow.”

They disappear into the wedding department, leaving Jason with Vanya. Neither of them hurry to follow. They stand beside a display of cashmere clothing where Vanya traces a slow path across soft woollen fabric. He only stops when Jason offers a low-pitched greeting.

“Hey.” His hand brushes the same folded sweater, touching Vanya’s slightly.

“Hands are cold.”

“I got caught up with a work call that meant I had to rush to get to the station. I didn’t stop to pick up my gloves—I was so sure I was going to be late and that I’d have to tell Andrew I’d lost Chantel. He’d have my guts for garters if I stood her up.”

“Guts for garters.” Vanya tries out those words. “Does not sound pleasant.”

“Nope.” Jason stands a little closer. His fingers brush Vanya’s again as he strokes the soft fuzz of another sweater. “You could warm my hands up if you like.”

It’s tempting. Vanya can’t help glancing over his shoulder. No one is paying attention. What would they even see if they did? There’s nothing untoward about two men looking through a stack of clothing. They could do a lot more than hold hands and no one here would notice. He inhales before sliding his hand over Jason’s.

This is allowed here, he tells himself firmly despite a lifetime’s conditioning that sets internal sirens wailing.

That conditioning is tough to ignore, only getting a little easier when Jason is decisive. He threads their fingers tightly together, nestled in folds of snuggly fabric.

“There.” Jason sounds happy. “Much warmer.” Then he goes one step further and takes a quick kiss that Vanya’s not at all prepared for.

“People will see.”

“So what?” There’s a glint in Jason’s eye that suggests he hears a challenge rather than a warning. He says, “Can’t I be pleased to see you?” while ghosting another kiss to his temple. “And can’t I get a kiss back from my boyfriend?”

Fear flips to something different when Jason uses that word. It’s not worry that has him steering Jason to a curtained area. It’s a need to be somewhere private while feeling this happy. He pulls the curtain closed behind Jason and turns into an embrace that’s for their eyes only.

“That’s better.” Jason’s words are muffled, his face tucked close to Vanya’s throat, his lips tickling across the skin there. “That’s how you say hello in English.” Then he lifts his head and takes in where they’re standing. A small seating area faces a podium surrounded by floor length mirrors. “Although,” Jason adds, “I suppose this is a better location.” His final kiss lingers, mouth opening only slightly in a tease that has Vanya chasing his lips once he pulls back. “But I do get it.”

“Get what?”

“Why you kissed me back at the station but didn’t want to kiss just now. Of course you can’t snog customers somewhere you work.” He catches Vanya’s gaze and holds it, sincerity clear when he adds a heartfelt, “I’d never want to cause you trouble. I forgot, that’s all. I forget pretty much everything whenever I see you. But I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself while we’re at your workplace.”

This is no time for lying, not when Jason’s being open. It prompts a response that Vanya can’t keep inside.

“Isn’t workplace.”

“I know, I know.” Jason’s so close that the scent of his aftershave is all he can focus on for a moment. “I get it. You’re freelance or whatever. And I know you’re not working right now, but you might want to again one day, so kissing clients probably isn’t a good thing.”

“Kissing isn’t problem. Telling you about job is—”

Anna interrupts them, holding a curtain aside for Chantel, who’s awkward in a figure-hugging gown that hampers easy movement. It’s very tight, fanning out into a silky fishtail that trails a short way behind her. There’s no doubt it’s classy, but the grimace Chantel stifles reflects in every mirror. A tiara sparkles coolly atop hair that fights against a chic twist. That hairstyle suits the clean lines of the dress too, Vanya guesses, very similar to those modelled in Chantel’s folder. All those factors should combine to perfection, but Chantel’s eyes glitter unhappily.

“Andrew’s friends are from the city. They’re so sophisticated, like him. This is what they’ll be expecting.”

“Andrew isn’t anywhere close to sophisticated,” Jason offers, surprised.

“But he’s always going out to corporate dinners.”

“Well, that’s just work. I promise you, his idea of a posh meal is adding brown sauce to a bacon sandwich.”

“Is it?” She wipes a tear away with the heel of her hand and her smile is shaky. “I could actually manage to make that.”

“You should get him to share the cooking,” Jason insists. “Mum always told us the kitchen was a trap for women, unless their men did half the cooking. That’s why she taught us to fend for ourselves. We’d have starved if she hadn’t.”

“Really?” Chantel’s smile is shaky. “He offers to cook all the time, only I’m home before him so….”

“Really. The only thing Mum hated was unfairness. I guess that’s why she fostered.” He’s quiet for a long moment. “So don’t go buying into all this fake, big-city sophistication bollocks or into doing all the cooking.” Jason takes her tiara and pops it onto Vanya’s head instead.

He admires its sparkles before echoing Jason. “Should have dress you like. Posh is no good if groom doesn’t recognise bride. Think he will pay a big ransom for a complete stranger?”

“Ransom? What ransom?” Chantel casts a quick glance at Jason, who only shrugs.

“Ransom is start of all best weddings,” Vanya explains as he takes off the tiara. “Groom must pay if he wants his bride.” He helps Chantel down from the podium.

Anna holds out another dress for her to try. Chantel touches its ivory silk. “What happens if the groom doesn’t pay the ransom?”

“Then he will have to marry….” He struggles for the right word. “Fake person?”

“Fake?” Chantel squints. “You mean an imposter?”

“Yes. Is silly start to all best weddings. Maybe not in all of Russia, but definitely in my family. Lots of tricks and joking. Fun for children. Nothing very serious. Everyone plays along, then the wedding can start.” Vanya’s words catch on nothing, struck by a thought that shakes him.

He won’t be there for his sister’s wedding.

It could be years in the future, but he won’t hear about it.

“That sounds like a lovely tradition.” Chantel’s politeness is so British. “I’ll certainly bear it in mind.” At least she’s no longer tearful as she goes to get changed.

It’s so quiet once she and Anna are gone.

Jason speaks from behind him. “You want to tell me what’s up?”

“Is nothing.”

His shuddered exhale proves that lie, as does his quick turn so Jason can wrap his arms around him, his voice a steady murmur. “I know something’s getting to you today. You’ve been uptight since we got here. I….” Jason hesitates. “Did… did you want to tell me something?”

“Tell what?” Vanya’s voice is muffled. It would sound a whole lot clearer if he could make himself let go. Instead he holds on tighter.

“Whatever it is that’s on your mind. Get it off your chest. You’ll feel better.” His kiss to Vanya’s forehead unlocks part of the truth.

“I’m think of sister.”

“Your sister? Why? Is she getting married too?”

“No. Will be a long time before she marries. May never happen. But….”

“But you’re a long way from home when she does?” Jason loosens his hold and then presses something into Vanya’s free hand. “I know you don’t want my money these days.”

“Never wanted.” Needed it, maybe. But want…? His headshake is fierce.

“That’s fine,” Jason easily concedes. His wallet fills Vanya’s palm, and he nudges it open. “Just as long as you know that I’ve more air miles than I know what to do with.” He taps a credit card. “Getting you home in a hurry doesn’t have to be a problem.”

As offers go, it’s simple, like the second dress that Chantel comes back wearing.

It’s genuine too, like her smile as she hops onto the podium and spins to make the gown flare. Even her smile is sunny, widening when Jason selects a simple circlet of flowers to place over her hair.

Chantel impulsively leans forward, landing a kiss on his cheek that has both of them laughing.

Vanya watches as she spins happily again, this dress simply perfect for her, even if he can’t see her clearly while his vision is misted.

In that moment, it almost doesn’t matter that returning to Russia can never, ever happen.

What matters most is that Jason clearly cares enough to offer.