Page 50 of Hexed & Hazy

I’ve never been so nervous to visit Seth at the café.

But there are other things for me to attend to first. I sleep a few hours later than usual and wake at seven to prepare for my client calls. Two consultations, one call with a longtime client. It should be easy.

Alison, the owner of an antique shop, has always been a demanding client. Her shop is a few hours away, in Portland, but despite how much she asks of me, she’s loyal.

The moment she signs on to the call, her face reflected in the laptop screen, I know she means business. Her painted red lips are pressed together.

I force on a polite smile, the one I’ve spent years practicing in mirrors—that belongs to my clients. “Good morning.”

“Good morning to you as well.” Instead of meeting my smile, she frowns. “You are aware this meeting was scheduled for an hour ago, yes?”

“I—” I look down at my tablet, opening up the calendar.

No. That can’t be right. I had another call—a⁠—

Oh, goddess.

A double booking. How did that happen? Alison left several emails that I just missed.

I lift my head and swiftly recover. “Apologies. There must have been a problem with my schedule.”

“This doesn’t normally happen.”

“I know. And I shouldn’t have allowed it to happen. I’m sorry. I take full responsibility. Are you available for the next hour, or should we reschedule?”

She huffs. “This is fine.”

By the time the end calls, she’s appeased. We work out the kinks in her bookkeeping. Everything is fine, but she’s right…

I’m not normally like this. Why am I so scatter-brained?

After three hours of calls, I finally have a moment to breathe.

But I have to see Seth. My skin is crawling, and that moment… the moment where it all went wrong… the moment where I failed him… when I hurt him…

It’s replaying. It can’t stop. Even the few lighthearted texts Dave sent me can’t distract them anymore.

David

Got my suit.

Me

Care to share a picture?

David

Nope.

It’s a surprise.

My heart isn’t in it this morning, no matter how kind he is, no matter how much I enjoyed speaking to him last night. When have I ever been this fickle? I hardly recognize myself.

The person ahead of me in the café opens the door for me, only to walk to the other side of the building—to the flower shop, to be served by Donnie.

I slide by and approach the café, waiting for the people ahead of me to pay and receive their drinks. When I face Seth, it’s too soon, but he’s smiling at me as though everything is ordinary. Perhaps it is. I’ve always had a terrible habit of overthinking.

“Already got your drink ready,” he says, holding it out to me.