EMILY
Someone up there has it out for me.
I’m serious. There’s a celestial being lounging on a cloud right now, flipping through a giant bingo card that has my face in its center, under the square labeled Make Her Suffer. Extra credit if she cries in public.
Thirty one days. Thirty one miserable days of free falling, and the ground still hasn’t shown up.
I had been laughing but the sound died in my throat. The second reality crashed in.
Absolutely nothing is funny. I think I’m actually losing my mind.
Leo Ashford just called me his girlfriend in front of half of Manhattan’s elite. And now he’s kneeling here in this dingy service hallway, laughing at me like I’m the punchline to the best joke he’s heard all year. Let’s not forget what his hand was doing under that table, sliding up m
