Phone in hand, I search for the nearest subway station to get back to my apartment in lower Manhattan. A cab would be much better, especially considering my pounding headache, but my recent unemployment status demands immediate cutbacks. I don’t even have my foldable flats, so my walk of shame is painfully done on five-inch heels.

The ride on the crowded train, besides killing my feet, does nothing to improve my queasiness. I need to drink a gallon of water and run an hour to sweat out all the toxins in my body. But most of all, I need another coffee and a cool shower.

As I unlock the door to my apartment, the only positive thought I can muster is that, if nothing else, the list did produce one good outcome. Item number four, don’t move in without a ring, saved me from having to sneak back to Gerard’s place to retrieve any personal effects. The thought of him and his secretary doing it in his office makes my skin crawl.

Did he bring her home too? Did they do it in our bed?

Technically, his bed… but still. I suppress a gagging reflex and step into the living room.

“You’re alive!” Nikki, my roommate and best friend, barrels into me as soon as I enter the apartment. “I was so worried.” She hugs me. “And you’re in one piece,” Nikki whispers before pushing back. “You’re alive and in one piece and now I can kill you!”

“Nikki, please,” I plead. “I’ve had a horrible two days. Let me take a shower and then I’ll explain everything.”

“You didn’t come home last night. You didn’t answer any of my calls. No text to say you were staying over at Gerard’s either. So finally, I tried his number, and he yelled at me, saying you two were over. Then this morning I called Évoque, and some girl told me you were let go yesterday. I thought you’d jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge!”

“I didn’t jump off, but apparently I crossed over. And, in my defense, I was unconscious most of the time I spent there.”

“Unconscious? Were you mugged? Kidnapped?”

“No, relax. Nothing like that, I was only drunk.”

Nikki crosses her arms over her chest, skeptical. “You’re never drunk.”

“I was last night. What are you doing home, anyway?”

Ten in the morning is too late even for Nikki to still be at home and not at least on her way to work.

“I have to catch a plane for New Orleans in a few hours, so no point in dropping by the office.”

“How long will you be gone?” I have the scary feeling I’ll need someone here to babysit me.