Lucinda.
My head felt like someone had thrown a whole damn party inside my skull and forgotten to clean up.
I groaned loudly, rolling over in bed and immediately regretting every shot I took last night. My mouth tasted like regret and cheap tequila. My tight black dress was twisted around my waist like it had tried to strangle me in my sleep. I pushed my wild curls out of my face and sat up slowly, blinking at the sunlight sneaking through the curtains.
“Ughhh… never again,” I muttered, even though I knew that was a lie. I loved a good night out.
That’s when I noticed the bedside table. A plate with perfectly scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, toast with avocado, and a big steaming mug of what I knew was Trinidad’s special hangover tea. Next to it was a small handwritten note in her neat, s
