“Enough you two,” Alba says and guzzles the rest of her wine.

I should have explained to Asher that I was sleeping under his desk because these two made it impossible for me to sleep under mine. Their constant arguing—while amusing most days—just adds to my pounding headache. They both belong on the Naughty List.

And I belong on the Sleepiest Girl Ever List.

My eyes shut for a moment and I almost tumble off of my stool. Thankfully, my phone buzzes on the counter and I jolt awake, which, in turn, also makes me almost fall off my stool again.

It’s Asher, who conveniently had to miss tonight’s festivities because his favorite episode of Friends was on. When I told him he could watch it on Netflix, he told me it wasn’t the same.

Asher

Did you send Trent Costner’s statement to media outlets?

Olivia

Of course I did. You sent me 17 reminders.

Asher

Calvin from ESPN said he never received a packet. They get the exclusive.

Olivia

Which is why I emailed him and hand-delivered one to each of his assistants.

Asher

Then why is he telling me he doesn’t have anything?

Olivia

Because his assistants are grossly incompetent and he doesn’t know how to open his email, so he’d rather blame me than admit that his team didn’t follow through.

I lock my phone and throw back the rest of my coffee. Buzzed and tired isn’t a good combination. I order black coffee and mix in six packets of sugar. That should be enough to get me home.

“Why’s Asher texting you?” Bree asks when my phone buzzes again. “Does he need you to read him a bedtime story?”

“Probably,” I say.

Asher

You’re in a mood.

Did you wake up on the wrong side of my desk?

Olivia

Someone ate all the chocolate out of my advent calendar.

Which is an offense punishable by death in all 50 states and 5 major self-governing territories.

Asher

I should probably contact my lawyer.

Olivia

I think that’s a good idea.

Asher

I should probably mention to her that someone has stolen my identity and my credit card and has ordered me a collection of holiday decorative pillows and a robotic vacuum that chases me around the house.

Olivia

It has 4.5 stars on Amazon.

Asher

It has 4.5 demons living inside it.

“Is that still Asher?” Bree asks, glancing at my phone. She scowls. “Why are you smiling?”

“Delirium is setting in,” I say. “I’m running on two hours of sleep.”

“What did you get up to last night?” she asks.

“Not nearly as much as you did at that strip club.”

“The preferred term is gentlemen’s club.”

“And she’d prefer it if you didn’t mention that she got kicked out of VIP for being sloppy,” Emanuel adds.

“Remember when you weren’t an asshole?” Bree snarls at him.