Lavender Haze

Chapter 6

As a week ticks by from my meeting with Mila and River, I grow more convinced I can do this. After all, I've gone through worse than having to work with a guy I once hooked up with. I once walked in on Dan and Rafael dry-humping each other at my birthday party (one of the rare occasions my brother let loose and PDA'd the whole night through, which in Dan's life meant until half past ten in the evening). I had to slow-dance with Caleb Miller at his senior prom (and ignore the way his hand slid past appropriate, pre-approved areas and into groping territory until I levelled him with a look that could have scared Joffrey Baratheon into being a complaint good boy). I watch my mother's mind disintegrate in front of my very eyes every other week.

There's nothing Astrid Clarke can't do.

This will be a walk in the park.

Except, of course, it's not, because every time I meet River, an irrational anger washes over me.

Like, seriously, how dares he forgetting me completely? How inconsequential was the day we shared together for him to entirely obliterate me from his memory?

I know he warned me from the very first start that he was an asshole, but – c'mon!

The plan is to meet River on Friday morning in Alphabet City, three weeks after I've been officially hired, and I already know Mila won't be with him. She sent me a text yesterday reminding me not to let River, and I quote, stuff his face with chocolate cake because he'll have to fit in his tux for the wedding. So here I am, babysitting a grown-ass man to make sure his stomach doesn't expand before August.

As usual, I'm the first one to arrive. The weather has been relentlessly horrible for the past week (let's call it foreboding of how today's going to go), so I hide under the awning of Sapphire's as I wait for River to show up. So far, he's already three minutes late, which doesn't help with my bad mood. I've had another tragic day with mom yesterday, Faded Mom quickly turning into Ghost Mom, and if that wasn't enough, I've got the worst case of period cramps I've had since high school. I've soaked my favourite pair of suede boots stepping into a puddle while avoiding being mowed down by a taxi that decided that the red at the traffic light was merely a suggestion. And it's cold and the café under my apartment was out of double chocolate muffins so this is not the right day for River St. James to make me wait in the rain. He's in for a real treat when he gets here, I think grumpily.

River's eleven minutes late when he finally shows up. A town car deposits him just in front of the bakery where the cake tasting is happening and he waltzes up to me wearing a fresh smile and enough Blue de Chanel to exterminate a family of sewer rats. The smile is new and unwarranted, and if I didn't know better, I'd say he's only grinning because he knows I'm already pissed off and he's trying to irritate me further.

"Am I late?" River says in lieu of hello.

I'd normally lie to a client, but I must have recently decided to commit career suicide, because what I say today is, "Do you bathe in Blue de Chanel in the morning or sleep embalmed in it?"

River's runs his tongue over his teeth, amusement flashing in his steely eyes. "Am I your favourite client or does everyone get the grump treatment?"

"You are definitely special," I say without thinking, pulling the door open and rushing inside Sapphire's. The sweet, sticky smell of toffee engulfs me, and for a moment, I forget I had to take two Advils before I even brushed my teeth, and that mom yesterday chased me out of her room with a vengeance and that some dickwad stole my favourite cupcakes at Brews and that I can pretty much throw my suede boots at the end of the day and that I have to spend at least a few hours in the company of a man I'd much rather never see again, let alone plan the perfect wedding for.