“This is obviously way more important than the Anything List,” Lydia answered, pulling out her phone.
I frowned. “What’s the Anything List?”
“Nothing,” she answered with a glower that let me know it was the opposite of that. “Anyway, I don’t have a field practicum today. Just text me the best time to meet up after you’re done with the registrar.”
I wouldn’t have to sleep in my car again tonight. My chest nearly caved with relief. But then I had to admit, “I don’t have a phone right now. I left it—” Tears threatened to well up in my eyes, but I squeezed them back down to finish telling her, “I accidentally left it in Germany.”
“That’s okay.” Lydia’s brown gaze became even more sympathetic. “Is twelve thirty cool to meet at my place?”
I nodded, feeling sick to my stomach—actually, really, really sick to my stomach.
Instead of thanking Lydia for her understanding and accommodation, I ended up shoving past her with my hand over my mouth.
I barely made it to the restrooms outside her lecture hall before ejecting my McDonald’s breakfast directly into the toilet.
And that was when I realized that the period I’d been expecting last week might not be behind schedule because of the stress of everything that happened in Germany.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
Or, as my German ex had taught me to say during my time in Mannheim…Scheisse. Scheisse. Scheisse.
My German ex…
I panted over the toilet, somehow already knowing, without having to spend more money I didn’t officially have on a pregnancy test, that he’d left me with more than bad memories.
What was I going to do?
A knock sounded on the door. “Merry?”
It was Lydia.
“Yep. Give me a sec.” I stood up on shaky legs and opened the door to find my ride-or-die friend looking beyond worried.
“You alright?”
“Yep, yep,” I started to nod—to assure her everything was fine.
But then the tears I’d been refusing to let fall since I blew all of my savings on a last-minute flight back to Minnesota suddenly sprang into my eyes. And my voice broke as I admitted, “No…”
“Oh, Merry.” Lydia drew me into her arms again, this time to comfort me. “I think you need to tell me your long story first.”
Lydia
“First of all,where did you get that cute-ass rubber duckie sweater? Second, can I borrow it? And third, Merry, what are you doing here?”
Trish had just woken up from her weed-sponsored sleep-in to find me helping Merry move into my room.
And by “me helping Merry,” I mean that poor Merry had to both body double and direct me to get my bedroom into a halfway decent state so she could move into it.
Thanks to my executive function issues, what should have been a simple tidy-up before lunch turned into an all-hands-on-deck job.
And best believe, Trish immediately zeroed in on the large suitcase I’d laid out on the bed, along with the bright yellow sweater featuring an oversized rubber duckie. The cute-as-hell pullover had mysteriously appeared outside my guest bedroom door at Yom’s that morning, tucked into a COACH bag with patchwork jeans, sports bras, and a 3-pack of underwear from the local Cal-Mart.
By the time we made it to the food court, both Trish and Merry had a whole lot of questions beyond how I’d let my room get so bad in the space of the few weeks since I’d returned from Berlin.
And that’s how my cancelled lunch with UMG’s star hockey player turned into a full recap session with Trish and Merry in a booth at the student center’s food court.
“Wow, Lyds.” Trish rolled her eyes and leaned her head back against the booth’s wall after I finished telling her how my rescue mission had ended. “I’m happy it all turned out for P.M., but only you would make a deal with the devil to save a dog.”
