“But not in a sexual manner,” she called to me. “I just like barbeque.”
“And this is why I don’t go to parties,” I said, looking down at my ruined clothes. “At the very least, I’ll never have to see that horse girl again.”
3
Amy
Morning. Bright sun. Regret.
Bad decisions were the story of my life, and just like I had all the other times I had drunk too much, I vowed never to do it again.
Something warm and wet dragged across my cheek, nibbled my hair, then yanked.
“Ow!” I yelled as I was unceremoniously wrenched out of my dream in which a hot polo player had whisked me off to his mansion in his private plane, and we lived happily ever after with a bunch of kids and horses.
“Baxter!” I shrieked as the pony pulled me off the couch that served as my bed, table, desk, and living room. I tumbled to the floor.
“Oof.” I rubbed my head. “I drank too much.”
I reached out to the mini fridge and fumbled for a can of ginger ale, but the fridge was empty, just like my life. But not like my apartment.
That’s right, my apartment was so small that I could touch both walls at once. My fridge was the size of a small cooler. My floors were cruddy carpet that grew mushrooms when it rained.
Welcome to New York City real estate.
“Tea,” I croaked, dragging myself upright.
The reason I had rented this apartment—the courtyard. The tiny outdoor space was my oasis in the concrete and glass of Manhattan. I was a country girl at heart, happiest on a farm with my flowers and packs of animals and surrounded by nature.
The small courtyard was the closest I would get in the city, though. I had done my best. There was a small pond with fish and a fountain, terraces of plants that didn’t mind the shade, like ferns, and in the sunny little corner, I grew all sorts of flowers and herbs.
While waiting for water to boil, I snipped off some mint, fennel, and rosemary for my hangover while Baxter followed me around the courtyard as I checked on all my plants.
I was planning on having a nice relaxing cup of herbal tea in the garden while reading, until I looked at the time.
“Shit!”
* * *
I tumbledinto the Weddings in the City office fifteen minutes after the meeting was supposed to start.
“I’m shocked you made it here at all,” Elsie remarked.
“I think I drank too much.”
“No shit!” Sophie said with a laugh and took a sip of her mimosa.
“It was really amazing barbeque, though,” I said. “Wish I had some now.”
“Or do you want a different kind of meat?” Brea cackled. “You were dropping mad hints to that polo guy about wanting to sleep with him.”
“Ugh.” I slumped down in my seat. “With everyone here as my witness, I, Amy Reynolds, am going to be making better life decisions.”
Elsie handed me a plate with eggs Benedict and grilled asparagus.
“I need a mimosa with this.”
“What happened to better life decisions?”
