21 LAYNEMy phone buzzes from the bedside table, knocking me out of my true-crime documentary daze.
Dr. Benson has been encouraging me to find new ways to destress for weeks now, and Kristen swears these kinds of shows do the trick for her, so I decided to finally give one a shot. And while I totally get the appeal, so far, all this thing has been doing is making me more stressed out than ever.
Pausing the documentary, I lean over to see who could possibly be calling me. If it’s someone from work, there’s no way I’m answering. But to my surprise, it’s Griffin’s name that’s flashing across my screen.
“Hello?”
But it isn’t Griffin’s voice that greets me. It’s a woman’s. And she sounds pissed.
“Hi, Layne? Listen, you and I need to have a little chat.”
“I’m sorry, who is this?”
“He’s in
