I swear, I want to take her head and smash it in the mirror until she shuts the hell up.

“I’m hungry,” I say, as an excuse to leave the bathroom. I can’t stand her presence right now. “I’m going to order pizza.”

I’ve just hung up with the delivery guy when Blair comes marching into the living room surrounded by a cloud of perfume. With high heels, her new dress, perfect makeup, and a stylish coat on, she looks one hundred percent like a character from The Devil Wears Prada.

“Richard just texted,” she trills. “He’s downstairs. Is your pizza arriving soon?”

“No,” I sulk. “Apparently there’re a lot of people spending the night in and ordering pizza.”

“See? I told you it’s the best way to spend the night.” She smiles, and sighs. “New Year’s is so overrated, really.”

My eyes turn to slits. “Absolutely.”

“I really gotta go now.” She shrugs. “I’m staying at Richard’s tonight, so don’t wait up for me.”

“I won’t.”

“Well, don’t have too much fun without me.” Blair opens the door and waltzes out of the apartment. “See yah.”

I slam the door shut after her and lean against it. What the hell?

Bitch.

She made me want to smash everything in the house. I need to relax.

The pizza boy said the wait would be well over an hour, so I might as well take a bath in the meantime. I go back to the bathroom, fill the tub to the brim with hot water, and happily empty half of Blair’s super expensive perfumed oils in it in petty revenge.

When the doorbell rings a while later, I’ve just finished changing into one of my favorite cat PJs—about eighty percent of my PJs feature cats—and am much more relaxed.

I push the speaker button on the buzzer. “I’m up on the fourth floor,” I inform the pizza boy.

“I know,” a voice I recognize instantly says back.

Diego! I hate the way my heartbeat immediately speeds up. What is he doing here?

“What are you doing here?”

“Expecting someone else?”

“Yeah, pizza. What do you want?”

“To talk.”

“Now? What about a week ago, when I called you a thousand times and begged you to pick up the phone?”

“I’m sorry. Can you please let me in and insult me in person?”

No, because the moment I see his eyes, I know my brain will fry and logic will fail me. No, because I’ve just barely started feeling like a human again. And no, because this apartment is free of painful, Diego-related memories. Yeah, he lived with me for a while, but nothing cathartic or intimate happened while he was here, and I don’t want to make this place haunted, too. This is my safe haven.

“Are you still there?” comes his voice from the buzzer.

“Yeah. Listen, Diego, you slept with me and then ran away the next day without a word… That’s not… There isn’t a single thing you might say that will make me open this door.”