CHAPTER FOURTEEN: THE WEEKEND APPOINTMENT
ZOEY
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The weekend showed up in a rush, barely giving me a chance to blink.
Since Camille got stuck with an overtime shift at the hospital, I was left to tackle the Target-and-beyond mission alone—hauling in furniture, appliances, and the random ‘we need this or the house looks dead’ items.
By Saturday afternoon, I was standing in the middle of my living room, hands on my hips, admiring my handiwork.
“Not bad, Zoey. Not bad at all.” I said out loud, nodding proudly.
We’d painted the walls a soft nude-coffee boho tone, which Camille swore was going to make the house look like an abandoned bakery. Well, joke’s on her—it looked AMAZING. My new boho-colored furniture and some artsy wall pieces tied everything together perfectly, as if I knew
