Swear to fuck, if someone’s coming out here to spy on Laney and me, evenafterI did that entire clothed, face-showing video telling my viewers I was closing up shop to save my body for one woman and one woman only, andafterthat press release—
Oh.
It’s Sabrina.
Still annoying.
Except for the part where Laney and I haven’t heard from her yet today.
We’ve all been checking in with each other to see if Emma’s sent anyone messages from her solo honeymoon.
Laney’s in touch with Claire too.
So far, all’s radio silent.
I’m starting to not like it even more than I thought I wouldn’t like it, even if Em’s not scheduled to get home for another few days.
Sabrina screeches her car to a stop inches from Laney’s bumper and jumps out.
And she isnothappy. “Where’s Laney?”
“Is it Emma?”
“No.Where’s Laney?”
I point to the house.
Despite me having longer legs and being twice as close to the door as she is, and despite her heeled boots and the crap ton of snow on the ground, she beats me inside.
“Don’t get up,” I call to Laney as I hustle after her redheaded friend.
“Sabrina. Oh my god. What’s wrong?What’s wrong?”
I skid to a stop in the kitchen and find Sabrina digging through my cabinets.
“Sabrina,” Laney repeats. She flaps a hand at me. Silent request for her crutches.
“Where do you keep the damn paper bags?” Sabrina shrieks.
I reach over the fridge, pop open a cabinet that’s too high for Sabrina to reach, and pull out a single paper sack.
She lunges and starts breathing into it as she uses the lower cabinets along the back wall to support herself while she sinks to the floor.
“Emma?” Laney says.
Sabrina shakes her head. “Me,” she pants.
“Oh my god, are you pregnant?” Laney shrieks.
Fred yowls. Miss Doodles chimes in with a sharpme-OWof her own.
“Worse,” Sabrina moans into the bag. “So. Much. Worse.”
“Are youdying?” Laney whispers.
I’m feeling kind of useless, so I stand behind Laney’s chair and settle my hands on her shoulders.
“Stand—Hawaii—boss,” Sabrina says between puffs.
