Chapter 4 Chance encounter

Present-day (8 years later):

"You can do this, Claire. Another day, just get through another day," I psych myself up whilst standing at the entrance to where I work, Nona's bridal atelier. I know, I know, a single, mateless, wolfless, dreamless she-wolf working at a bridal store is comical. When I bagged my business degree, this isn't at all what I envisioned using it for. But when half the town thinks you're damaged goods and the other half hates your guts, you tend to make do with what you get. I had absolutely nothing when I started applying for jobs; employers would see the Blackthorne name and get interested, and once they saw my name, it was a resounding no. A no for the mateless, unstable werewolf female who hates children. None of which are true, I adore children! And I'm only unstable in the wee hours of the morning when I haven't had coffee yet. I'm mateless, sure, like that isn't a fact, who cares? So after months and months of rejection letters, doors slammed in my face, being run off by restaurant owners, insulted by salon owners, and what have you, Great Dame Louisa had offered me a little assistant role in her atelier. To be fair, I didn't know it was a bridal store; all I heard was a job, and I said yes. In hindsight, I should have known that no one would willingly agree to give me a job if there weren't hiccups attached to it. Turns out, I'm some kind of reverse sale technique: mightier-than-thou, self-centered, rude, and arrogant she-wolfs and Lunas get a kick out of using me as their little errand girl whilst they try on wedding dresses and give me fake consolations on how it isn't for everyone and how maybe one day some geriatric, dying wolf can have me if just to care for his children. The insults grate on my nerves, I'm not going to lie, but working gives me a sense of normalcy. Also, I'd hoped that being around mated Lunas would somehow trigger my fated dream, and I could finally have it. I don't say 'again' because I'm not even sure I've had it before. I try my best to forget the dream I thought I had when I was 16 and the events that occurred after, events that made the townsfolk hate me and label me a castaway slut. Ok, enough with the pity party, it's been 8 years since then and 2 years since I started working for Dame Louisa. She's civil enough to me, not outright rude but not friendly either. I think it's also just weird to have a wolfless pack member around, I guess.

I finish my pep talk, take out my key, and unlock the door. The bell tingles as I step in and get on with cleaning and arranging for the day. Usually, this is the cleaner's job, but Annabell has been getting a bit cheeky and rude and coming later than usual. Like a setup to make me clean ahead of her. The other bridal assistants must be teaching her; mean girls. I'm wiping down the last centre table and putting the magazines back as they were when she saunters in.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry I'm late; traffic was crazy."

You live by the corner. What traffic? I think to myself.

"It's ok, I'm just about done anyway," I say with a practiced smile.

"Oh, you are? Well, then there's nothing else to do about it. I'll be in the kitchen having tea," she walks away heading in the direction of the kitchen. At 5'8", with a curvy body and honey blond wavy hair with baby blue eyes, you'd think she was an angel at first glance.

"Looks are deceiving," I mutter.

The day moves along, Dame Lou shows up, and I update her on the store matters. We had a weepy bride and her overly sensitive mother who couldn't handle her choices not being accepted. It made me think of my mother and how disappointed she's been that we haven't shared this moment. As the day idles on, I am happy with the flow of clients and the top of my game. Fishing out the best dresses according to the style and charisma of each bride who walks through our doors. It's almost day's end when the last person I ever expected to see walked in, Freya Rivers. We went to the same high school, and she made sure I didn't forget it back then. She was one of the mean ones who would say the nastiest things to me. That aside, she's also the main reason why half the town doesn't like me and labeled me a slut. I mentally shut down that train of thought. I don't want to relieve that moment at 16, not while I'm working. She and her friend, Kimberly Beaumont peruse the store and demand dress options which I get and display, five dresses in total. She goes into the dressing room to try on the second gown. I load the champagne tray with empty flutes and go to refill them. I'm walking back to the sitting area with the tray laden at about the same time Freya is coming out of the dressing room. You guessed it, I tripped and fell or correction, I was tripped by Kimberly and fell, colliding with her and splashing a good amount of the drinks on her.

"You idiot!" she shrieks and rises to her feet. It's a flurry of commotion; other attendants try to clean up the mess while Dame barks that I should help her change the dress at once. I move towards Freya and gesture to the dressing room.

"You did this on purpose, you jealous b**ch! It's just like when we were sixteen! You couldn't handle the fact that you were miserable and alone and wanted what I had, you just had to rub it into everyone's face just how 'different' you are!" She makes air quotes as she speaks cruelly.

"It is pathetic enough that no one wanted you; you just had to try and seduce my mate Darren."

I am so tired of the narrative; I can't stand people talking about what happened in such a wrong and wicked way. It is the thought that makes me lift my chin to say, "I never approached Darren, he approached me. I didn't want him; no one wants or likes him but you-"

I've barely gotten my words out before she slaps me.