Chapter 105 - The Billionaire’s Prodigal Wife
“Again, as Mackenna has stated before, she has her own reasons for doing what she did and they are hers to disclose but when it was just us, Dulce was Mackenna’s biggest supporter. I did not realize until we were here in Phoenix it was Dulce releasing all the lies to the press and the way she was treating Mackenna when I wasn’t around to hear it. What she portrayed to me as my friend was a completely different side than what the rest of the world was getting. I feel I was played like a fiddle.” Alessandro made a face as if he were tasting something bitter and then smiled suddenly and looked to Tallulah, “I should pay you the rate I pay my counsellor. I’m spilling more tonight than I have in three months of sessions.”
George stared at him. “You go to counselling?”
“Yes,” Alessandro shrugged, “it’s an American thing, isn’t it? In Italy, you just get on with it. I realized my upbringing and my circumstances were keeping me from connecting with my wife on a level I needed to. One of her friends at the hospital suggested I needed help. I thought maybe it couldn’t hurt.”
“Which friend?” This was the first time Mackenna had heard of this.
“Derrick Portman,” he shrugged, “the day Dulce was being released he pulled me aside, told me I was an idiot. Said only an absolute fool would not see how I was being played by my friend and what it was costing me. He said I needed psychiatric help because only a crazy person would pick Dulce over Mac,” he quoted and then looked at her. “I really do not like how they all call you Mac.”
“You’re changing the subject,” she pursed her lips. “Portman said this to you?”
“Yes, he did. He said it, gave me the card of someone he recommended and told me I had better do right by you because you’re too special to let get away.”
“I’ll have his balls for breakfast,” she looked away and back to her menu.
“Why?” Whitney asked enjoying the openness of the couple in front of them.
“Back then, we were not together,” she waved her hand between them, “thus my friend was cavorting with the enemy.”
“Your friend was putting you ahead of his own wants and desires and I respect him for it.” Alessandro corrected. “I have talked to him many times to get his perspective on how to approach things, not just with you but in general. He’s a good person and he’s become a good friend.”
She contemplated it and shook her head. “It’s a good thing he’s my friend, otherwise he and I would be having words.”
The waiter came back to take their orders and Mackenna made a face, “I don’t even know what to order. I’m so far beyond hungry now.”
“Get the linguine,” Alessandro shrugged, “you love pasta, and it comes with a large side of cheese bread.”
George dropped his menu on his plate in surprise. “You’re telling your wife to get carbs?”
“I’m telling my wife to get what she loves.” He took a breath, “George, I know this is a foreign concept in my business and I’m definitely throwing a match on gasoline with my counterparts in haute couture, but this industry has been toxic and shaming women for their bodies for far too long. I enjoy the curves of my wife but it’s what is inside of her which makes me love and adore her. She has heart and passion. She is fiery, spunky, and determined. She makes me think and consider things in ways I never have before. She is my muse. How could I expect my muse to conform to something ninety-nine percent of the population of women could never reach without making themselves terribly ill?” He looked to Whitney his eyes profoundly serious, “I am not interested in having you walk my runway if you are hungry or ill or feeling you have to look a certain way to fit in. I want you because you throw your middle finger up to the world and do things the way you want. If you don’t like something, tell me, and fight me on it. I promise to listen. If you want to gain weight and be four sizes heavier, I don’t care. If you want to be smaller, then that’s okay too. It’s your body. All I ask is you take care of your body. Treat it well. I never want to hear the words diet or sample size in my presence. There is no room in my new line for such things. I want you to be you Whitney, just you.”
Mackenna wiped a tear off her cheek at her husband’s impassioned speech and saw Tallulah do the same. George was stumped and Whitney had leaned back in her chair and was watching him seriously.
“What if I gain five pounds the day before a show?”
“It’s why I hire the best in modistes, they will fix it. God, I remember Mackenna complaining she could gain five pounds once a month,” he looked at her suddenly, his eyes wide. “Did you know many models don’t have monthly cycles because of the abuse they put their bodies through? My mother told me this recently and I was horrified. She said she went several years on such a strict regimen of diet it almost destroyed her organs.” He shook his head. “No, moving forward the women I surround myself with will not be subjected to this kind of torture. I want vibrant healthy women living their best lives to represent this line.”
He seemed oblivious to the stunned gazes around the table as he went back to perusing the menu. “Or men,” he spoke suddenly, “I wouldn’t mind having men or trans men or women or even non-binary on the line. After talking to Samuel, he mentioned a friend of his who would be perfect for one of the dresses we vetoed off your collection today. He said they were struggling to get recognition. I told him to send them to me and we would see what we could do.”
George choked on his water and Mackenna patted his back.
This was the Alessandro she had fallen in love with years ago. The kind, compassionate man who respected people and enjoyed being thrown into situations which could be construed as difficult or embarrassing but leaning into it and learning from it. Supportive and kind. Somehow, along the way he’d lost some of this and she was so proud to be sitting there with him, at his side as he reminded her of all the good things she had once loved so much about him.