Page 55 of Sour Notes
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Who’s the hunk?
Shoot! That’s right. They’re being delivered today. I’ll pick the best ones and drop them off to you tomorrow lunchtime.
And no, before you accuse me, I’m not trying to catch sight of your new boyfriend. I’m meeting friends for lunch at the cute little Italian place just out of town.
J
Well shit, that’s cutting it close. We leave for the airport mid-afternoon. I need time to get these fuckers packed and my suitcase already looks… um… overstuffed.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Who’s the hunk?
Oh shit, really?! You know we leave for the airport at 3:30pm, right? Maybe it’s too risky. Should I come up with another article just in case?
M
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Who’s the hunk?
No, it’s fine. I got this. I’ve got a timeslot delivery. I’ll get a box together and run it over to you, promise. I’ll even unpack them and just keep them with their instructions, so you can just chuck the box in your suitcase and worry about it when you get there. I’m sorry it’s late, but don’t worry, it’s all good. We got this!
It’s not fine.
We do not got this.
It’s 2:45pm and still no Jen. I need to figure out how to get them into my already overweight fucking luggage and Marie Kondo I am not.
Where the hell is she?
I must be giving off some serious nervous energy because Swayze, who’s chosen not to play the avoidance game today of all days, keeps side-eyeing me from the couch while I pace the kitchen.
Maybe I should ditch some stuff from my bag just in case.
I don’t know what though because I’m a notorious overpacker, and that’s on a good day. So imagine how much baggage—physical and otherwise—I’ve got going on when I’m about to enter into full-on mental warfare with the bloodsucker who stole so many years from me.
Huffing, I spin on my heel, striding down the hall, determined to at least try. Of course, the second I walk into my bedroom, the doorbell rings, so Swayze gets to it first.
I was hoping to avoid that little encounter.
“Babe, Jen’s here.”
Babe? Wow. That’s really… weird.
Well, he’s remembered to keep up appearances, so there’s that.
Striding back out of my room, the first thing I notice is the huge box under Swayze’s arm.
She can’t be serious.
Sure, it’s flat enough to fit inside my suitcase but it’s so big it’ll take up most of one freakin’ side.
“Oh my god, Jen. Please tell me you haven’t had time to get rid of the packaging because that thing sure as shit isn’t fitting in my luggage?”
