Lavender Haze

Chapter 4

"How was mom?" I'm having coffee with Daniel before we head to Blooming Wild, where I'm supposed to meet Renee and her fiancé. Dan is bundled in an army-green scarf even though it's still reasonably warm outside, but then again, my brother gets instant chills on the first day of September and refuses to wear short sleeves before May the fifteenth. Unlike him, I do not subscribe to his unwarranted use of a puffy coat quite yet, still wearing my cream-coloured trench coat, which Dan says gives me strong flasher vibes when I button it up to my chin. I think he might be onto something, too, because when it was our time to collect our order at the counter of the coffee shop, the barista gave me a look like she was worried I was going to drop my bag, leap on a table, rip my trench coat open and expose all my goods.

Dan and I sidestep an octogenarian and her yapping Jack Russell in the bustling street, and I dodge by miracle a cyclist whizzing by on the sidewalk. There's a series of unrepeatable expletives that leaves the old woman's mouth, colourful enough to make a seasoned sailor blush. I take a sip of my mocha and tell Daniel, "I'm glad it's your turn today."

My brother grimaces empathetically. "That bad?"

"She made me promise her I'd look into Vera Wang's knockoffs. Even in her state she knows I'd be on a budget for my wedding." I sigh. "And I had to swear I won't get an updo for my wedding with Clark."

"You have weird ears," Dan says, attempting and failing at humour.

I touch the tip of my left ear and gape, "I do not!"

"They're just, like... pointy. Very Lady Galadriel." I wish I looked like Cate Blanchett. If I ever decided to go blond, I'd look like washed out Adrianne Palicki.

I flip my brother off, but I cannot deny that his levity has improved my mood, though only marginally.

"Shut up," I say, pushing the door open to his and Rafael's flower shop and heading straight for the counter, where my best friend is arranging the sample for Renee's bridesmaids' bouquets.

I hand him his caramel macchiato before sitting on the counter, moving the bouquet out of my way.

Rafael has only glanced at me for a second before he says, "You have a secret."

I blink in astonishment. He has always been so good at reading me. Ever since we were kids and (mostly) inadvertently catfished grownups online. "How'd you know?"

"I can smell it on you. Spill," he orders.

I wait for Daniel to trail to the back of the shop and start his routine of weeding out the dying flowers and only when I'm sure my brother is out of earshot, I say, "Do you remember Cassandra Miller's wedding?"

"The one I wasn't invited to? Yes."

I press a kiss on Rafael's sharp cheekbone. "You saw the pictures. You know you didn't miss anything. And I wish I wasn't invited," I remind him. Now more than ever.

He takes a sip of his coffee and asks, "What about Cold-Cassie, Ruling Queen of Hell? Is she getting divorced already? Dan called it."

"What? No. I don't know." I wave my hand. "It's not that. It's just" – I take a deep inhale – "Remember The Guy?"

Rafael arches a brow. "The guy?"

"The. Guy. Capitol T. Capitol G. The Guy!" I shriek like a true unhinged, hysterical woman ready to be whisked to the nearest mental facility.

Rafael smacks his head. "The Guy! Yes. I remember The Guy. Mr. Let me stomp on your feet and then plunge my fingers between your legs."

I bite back a smile and say, "That is a long title."