I spent the next day glued to my email. Just in case Glamour message me back.
But sadly, it hadn’t happened.
So I dedicated myself to being moderately productive, which mainly involved restocking my food supplies and writing, and only fretting about Glamour, then daydreaming about Matthew a little bit.
Beny woke up hungover in the middle of my afternoon and we long-distance buddy-watched an episode of Supergirl, me curled on the sofa, Beny apparently still in bed and not consistently conscious.
I was back in the study and back at work—go me—when Jessi suddenly appeared and said, “Come on, we’re leaving.”
“Oh my God.” I finished having a minor heart attack. “Are you ever going to like knock or warn me before turning up?”
She thought about it for a moment. “No.”
“But what if you get
