Don't Promise Me Forever

09 | in which Harper and Lawson fall into a hedge

Harper nodded. "We'll leave on Friday night."

They were driving out to the wedding venue a week before the big day, greeting guests as they trickled in. Diana had been planning to go herself, but she'd had to reschedule an interview on Channel 4 for her latest book, The Organizer's Bible. David was at a conference, so Harper and Griffin had volunteered.

Well, Harper had volunteered them both.

Same thing, really.

"I love Griffin," David said. "I really do. But please make sure that he doesn't explode anything. Diana's already on the verge of a breakdown."

Harper sighed. "I can't promise anything."

"Okay." David patted her hand. "Don't let him explode anything expensive, uninsured, or dangerous."

Her lips twitched. "Deal."

Heels clicked on the stone steps. They both watched as Diana picked her way delicately up towards them, looking unfairly like a Grecian goddess in her gold dress and sandals. Harper sighed. Griffin really had won the genetic lottery.

Diana flicked Harper's bulky black camera bag. "This really doesn't go with the outfit, darling. Is there really no way that your things would fit in a purse? Perhaps even a large Strathberry handbag?"

"Afraid not," Harper said.

Diana's eyes narrowed. "A stylish tote bag?"

"Nope."

"Could you just carry them?"

"No."

"What about—?"

"Oh, look," David said loudly. "Is that bruschetta?"

Diana spun around. "Where?"

Harper shot her father a grateful look. Diana and Griffin were both like a dog with a bone when it came to projects: they sunk in their teeth and refused to let go. And Harper's fashion sense had become the latest project.

Harper stretched up on her toes, giving her father a quick peck on the cheek.

"You two have fun," she said. "I'll see you later."

Harper made it halfway down the steps before David called out.

"Stay away from boys!"

"David," Diana hissed, whacking her fiancé with a clutch. "Stop it. You'll embarrass her."

Harper hid a smile. They really were good together.

The next hour passed in a blur. Harper lost count of the flowers that she photographed: snow-white calla lilies and poisonous azaleas, flashy orchids and unassuming tulips... She was grateful that Lawson had given her a run-down of each flower. There had to be at least two dozen varieties at the event.

Harper photographed people, too: socialites dripping in expensive-looking diamonds, and B-list actors she'd seen in toothpaste commercials. She even snapped a picture of Haz by the cupcake tower, although Haz flipped her off as the camera flashed.

"Delete that, Lane!" he called.

Harper waved at him cheerfully.

She found Alisdair by a stone fountain, admiring a riot of roses. A middle-aged woman in a monstrous green hat stood next to him, jabbering at lightning pace. Her tone was condescending, and it took Harper a moment to realize that the woman was lecturing Alisdair about turmeric lattes.

"Those lattes," the woman was saying, "are everything that's wrong with your generation. You expect to work shorter hours for more pay, and then you use it to buy silly things like yellow milk." She adjusted her green hat. "Wouldn't you agree?"