Cece has been in Milan since last week and was the only scheduled fitting for today. With two of her four looks completed, the focus was on confirming details for styling for finalizing tailoring. 

“My love!” Stacy called out as he wrapped Cece in a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Busy man! You haven’t had time for me,” Cece said with a smirk.

“Oh please,” Stacy laughed, pulling back and giving her a playful nudge. “Busy and tired.”

He looped his arm through hers and started leading her toward the workroom.

“I bet. Met Gala was what, two days ago? And now Cannes next week?” she said as they walked slowly through the studio.

“Yeah—lot going on. But good going ons, you know?”

“Oh, I know,” Cece replied, smiling.

They stepped into Stacy’s office and sank into the patchwork couch, the energy easing into something familiar.

“Alright, so—your two dinner looks are done,” Stacy started. “Now we just need to figure out the carpet. It should be a quick build. And since the double premiere isn’t until Wednesday, we’ve got time.”

“Okay, great. I think I know what I want to do for The Lot,” Cece said, “but I’m not sure yet for Franklin Street.”

“Oh, your movie and you don’t know what you’re wearing?” Stacy said, raising a brow and throwing in some light drama.

“Oh please!” Cece laughed. “This isn’t my first and definitely won’t be the last.”

“Yes, but it’s big. Two films. A full year of production. It’s big, Ce.”

“I know, I know,” she nodded. “So I guess I’ve got to look good, huh?”

“Absolutely,” Stacy said. “But you know we’ve got that handled.”

tacy sat up a bit, a spark in his voice. “I think for Franklin Street, I want to do something pink. I was gifted ten rolls of this deadstock Italian uniform shirting fabric—and we dyed one of them bubblegum pink. I think that’s the one.”

“Pink?” Cece looked up, amused.

“And poofy,” Stacy added with a smirk.

Cece groaned dramatically. “Ugh, it’s my first movie premiere all over again.”

“Exactly,” he grinned, standing up in front of her. “Let’s bring it full circle. It’d be cute.”

He looked down at her, already moving toward the fitting space. “You ready to try these gowns on?”

“Yes,” she said, jumping up from the couch. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Cece followed Stacy out of the office and into the main studio fitting area. The mirrored panels had already been rolled into place, and one of the assistants stood nearby with both looks prepped on padded hangers.

Alessandra was waiting just beyond the rack, clipboard in hand. “Ciao, Cece,” she said with a small smile.

“Alessandra! Always running the show,” Cece replied as she walked over.

“We’ve steamed both. The chartreuse is first. We made adjustments per your last notes.”

Stacy handed Cece the hanger. “Go ahead and change—we’ll be ready.”

A few minutes later, she stepped out in the one-shoulder gown. The fabric caught the light exactly as they’d hoped—lightweight, with just enough transparency to layer over her skin without flattening it.

Cece stood still as Alessandra adjusted a fold near the hip and pinned a slight pull at the side seam.

“How does it feel when you walk?” Stacy asked.

Cece took a few slow steps toward the mirror. “Better than I thought. I don’t feel like I have to think about it—which is exactly what I need.”

“Great. It’s not a ‘pose’ dress. It’s a ‘wear it and go’ dress,” he said.

“Can we take it in a quarter inch at the waist?” she asked, turning slightly.

“Yeah definitely.” Stacy responded. “Alessandra you got that?”

Alessandra nodded.

They moved onto the second look—the black halter gown.

This one took less discussion. Cece slipped into it, checked the slit in the mirror, and immediately said, “This is it. This one’s staying.”

Stacy smirked. “I knew it. This was always the one.”

Alessandra gave the hem a final eye. “We’ll raise it just slightly so it clears the floor in heels.”

Cece looked between them. “That’s it? We’re done?”

“We’re done,” Stacy said, already turning toward the garment bags. “Now we just build two more.”

“Can I look at this pink fabric?” Cece asked. 

“For sure. Get dress and i’ll show you.” Stacy responded. 

After the fitting, Cece stayed to chat with Stacy and Alessandra, catching up and reviewing fabric boards for the remaining two looks. She was the one who originally introduced Alessandra to Stacy during the early days of the Milan studio, and their working rhythm remains seamless. They reviewed a few garment samples Alessandra had archived from previous work—referencing them as possible structural cues for the final two gowns.

As the three sat catching up in Stacy’s office, Monroe stepped into the office holding his phone. “Zuri just landed. She’s on her way over now—fifteen, maybe twenty minutes out.”

Cece looked over from the couch. “I might hang back and say hi.”

“You better,” Stacy replied, glancing at the time. “I need backup energy.”

The studio team already reset quickly—steaming tools cleared, mirrors angled, racks adjusted. Alessandra stepped out to review notes with the tailors. Stacy swapped out the look boards and opened his laptop to finalize Zuri’s fitting schedule.

Twenty minutes later, the buzzer rang.

Monroe met her downstairs, and a few minutes after that, Zuri stepped into the atelier in a loose trench coat, hair up, glasses on, with a large black Birkin 50 on her arm. 

“There she is,” Stacy said as he stood up. “Met Gala glow and everything.”

Zuri pulled her sunglasses down with a grin. “Please. I slept through two flights and ate Pringles for breakfast. But I’m here.”

Cece crossed the studio to hug her. “You look good though. Travel can’t touch you.”

“Please. I WISH I was here since last week like you.” She said jokingly as she hugged Cece. The three walked back to the office. 

“I missed y’all,” Zuri said, dropping her bag near the couch and taking off her coat. “New York was chaos before and after The Met. Cannes is already giving me the softness and quiet I need.”

“We’ve got everything ready for the morning. No work tonight. Just dinner.” says Stacy. 

“God bless,” Zuri said, exhaling as she sank into the couch. “I have nothing left in me but hunger.”

The three laughed. 

The three of them laughed.

“Ce, you coming to dinner or are you booked and busy?” Zuri asked, sliding onto the couch.

“I’m coming,” Cece said. “I have tonight free before the madness starts tomorrow.”

“Speaking of madness—your cousin is at the center of it,” Zuri replied.

“Where is Julian?” Stacy asked. “Didn’t he fly in with you?”

“No!” Zuri said, wide-eyed. “He’s still in New York. Stressed out. He’s flying straight to Cannes tomorrow. I think you’re meeting him out there Friday,” she added, looking at Cece.

“Yeah, at the family villa. We have press and meetings starting that afternoon,” Cece nodded.

“Well, good luck,” Zuri said, kicking off her heels. “He is spiraling. He’s acting like this is his first premiere.”

“Oh, I know,” Cece said, rolling her eyes. “He called me ten times today about the Q&A. Asking what kind of questions they might ask—like I know. Like he doesn’t have two PR people on payroll.”

“See?” Zuri pointed at Cece, grinning. “Exactly.”

“Uh uh,” Stacy said, catching her mid-movement. “Keep those shoes on. We’re leaving in a few.”

“Omgggg,” Zuri groaned. “Doesn’t Cece still need to do her fitting? Let me relax while she does that.”

“Nope, she’s done. I’ve been waiting on you,” Stacy said, standing up and heading for his bag. “Let’s move.”

Zuri rolled her eyes but pulled herself up from the couch. “Alright, alright. Let’s go. But you always want to be on time when I’m tired—never when you’re tired,” she muttered, half under her breath.

“What was that?” Stacy called out, already halfway through the studio.

“Nothing!” Zuri shouted back, quickly slipping her shoes on as she mumbled again, “Fag.”

Cece just laughed, grabbing her bag. “Please. He’s only this organized when food is on the line.”

“I heard that too,” Stacy yelled from down the hall.

The girls exchanged a look and followed after him, the three of them stepping out into the warm Milan night—tired, hungry, and right on time.