Higher Feeling

not so sweet

I stepped out of the lift and into chaos.

The Duchess of Cambridge was due in the office after lunch — a third royal baby was on the way — and every person in the office had switched into panic mode. Junior designers buzzed around, more excited than the rest of us because they had barely started university the last time we did a nursery for the Royals. Senior decorators were grabbing last minute supplies for their pitch to Aggie, who would go on to pick three to show Catherine, and the assistants were setting up an afternoon tea spread that was entirely unnecessary but very good manners.

I had no part to play in the royal charade, and I slipped through the chaos unnoticed until I was a metre from my office door. Our very pregnant, very short receptionist bustled over shouting, "Sasha! Sasha!"

"Good morning, Claire."

"There is nothing good about this morning. I've got swollen ankles and every person in this place is acting like a mad man!" She shook off her burst of annoyance and flashed me an Oral-B smile. "There is someone in your office. They don't have an appointment but they started spouting, frankly, alarming stories about the two of you as youngsters so I popped her in there hoping she'd stop telling me about the time she —"

"Thanks, Claire. Did you get a name?" It had Gen written all over it.

"She wants to surprise you."

I frowned. I doubted Gen wanted to surprise me when I saw her yesterday. "Alright, thanks."

I entered my office and immediately saw the blonde with legs for days sitting on my sofa. I recognised mischief when I saw it.

"Stasia!" I hugged her from behind, draping myself over the back of the chair. "You didn't tell me you were visiting!"

Stasia squeezed my arms. "Well, then it wouldn't have been a surprise!"

Stasia Kovalenko never did anything by halves. She plowed through life at top speed; loud, bubbly, and fearless. She was a walking disaster most of the time, — she had a knack for unwittingly getting herself into trouble — but it never stopped Stasia from doing what she wanted. Strong willed was an understatement.

"I've missed you, Sashenka."

"How long are you in town for?" I untangled my arms from around my friend and took a seat in the chair next to hers. I studied her face, looking for anything that might help me understand the slight waver in Stasia's voice. "Stas, is everything alright?"

"Oh, you know me, always getting myself into trouble... this time it's a bit more..." Stars grimaced. I tilted my head, waiting for her to continue. "I'm here indefinitely. And I'm homeless. I can't sign a lease without Roman knowing where I am and swooping in to take me back to San Francisco. My parents are not too happy with the situation, so I can't go back to Russia. So I'm here. Trying to remember what my life looked like before I got married right out of university."

"You're not homeless — Nadia and I both have guest suites." The fearlessness Stasia usually exuded was dampened. I saw a sliver of uncertainty, and it frightened me. Stas was never unsure of anything — especially herself. "I take it you left him?"

"It wasn't working, Sash." She paused for a moment, contemplating her next words. "It was time for a new adventure."

The walls went up quicker than I could blink. "Well, I think London is exactly the right place for your new adventure. I'll call the housekeeper and get her to set up a room for you. Where are your bags?"

"Uh, we might need to go shopping." Stas lifted up her handbag and waved it about. "I couldn't work out how to pack a wardrobe that's the size of most people's sitting rooms."