MELISSA’S POV
Where the hell is my purse?
I stood in the middle of my bedroom, both hands on my hips, scanning the mess I’d just made. Drawers yanked open, clothes spilling out, my blanket tossed on the floor. It looked like a robbery had happened — except the thief was me.
“My toiletries are almost gone,” I muttered, raking my fingers through my hair. “I just need to go shopping. That’s it. One simple trip. Why is this so hard?”
I’d planned it perfectly. Wake up, shower, grab my purse, head to the supermarket, and maybe treat myself to a coffee after. But apparently the universe had decided my Saturday would be anything but simple.
I dropped to my knees, peering under the bed. “Nothing.” I crawled toward the dresser. “Still nothing.”
The more I looked, the more annoyed I got.
Wait.
