I couldn’t even enjoy my pizza when we got back to the office.
“How is it maxed out?” I asked as I logged into my credit card account. “Did someone steal my identity?”
Elsie sat down and scanned through the account.
“Did you spend seven hundred dollars on pizza, Chinese food, pretzels, and cake this month?”
“Amy!” Sophie exclaimed.
“I know! I’m so ashamed!” I held a pillow over my head.
“You should be! I’m literally a baker. I can make you all the cake you want.”
“I feel so bad for asking.”
“I literally bake cake all day,” she said flatly. “In fact, there’s cake in the fridge.”
“I didn’t have any then.”
“You have multiple rejected payments,” Elsie informed me, “including your rent, your phone bill, your streaming services, and three gardening subscription boxes. Wait, three? Is this an error?”
“I have a problem!” I wailed.
“Is that why you didn’t answer when I texted you?” Ivy asked as she loaded her plate with pizza.
“Oh shit!” I grabbed my phone and tried to make a call. It screeched at me and told me to pay my bill. After paying it online with the last few dollars in my checking account, the system sent me an email and told me cell service would be back in two to three days.
“I hate my life!” I yelled. Then I fretted. “What if Sebastian called me?”
“Do you really think he called you?” Brea asked, handing me a slice of pepperoni pizza. “I thought he said he hated you.”
“Yeah,” I said dejectedly, “more than anyone else in the world. Even if he was happy to have Alfie back, that probably only downgraded his hatred to extreme dislike of me.”
“Drink?” Ivy offered. “A champagne manufacturer sent us some of their product to try. They want us to order it for a wedding.” She handed me a bottle.
I popped the cork and started chugging.
“That was to share.”
“My life is in the toilet. Might as well go ahead and flush it.”
“Yes, because there’s nothing like chasing a bad decision with an even worse one.”
“How much worse can my life get?”
52
Sebastian
Alfie wanted to see a movie after we had a late lunch. Even though it was a Wednesday night, I agreed. He chose a movie about talking gerbils with machine guns. It wasn’t my first or even twentieth choice, but I was so ecstatic to have him back that I would have agreed to anything.
Alfie seemed to be catching on, though.
“Can I stay home from school tomorrow?” he begged as we drove back to Harrogate.
I had picked up my car from Svensson Investment. It seemed like there were more miles on it than there had been a few days ago, but I couldn’t be sure. Also, my seat didn’t feel quite right.
“You missed school the last two days,” I reminded him, glancing in the rearview mirror.
