Can’t wait! I text back, planning to bring her some leftover muffins.

And then I text Annie. SOS. I walked into Nick’s office and he was shirtless???

She texts back immediately, which isn’t a surprise. No matter how busy she is, she’ll always respond to a scene that sounds like it’s straight out of a rom-com.

Need more details ASAP. Why is Nick shirtless at work?

It’s a long story, I respond. Well, okay, it’s not. Tobin spilled hot chocolate on him and then he had to go change his shirt and I walked in while he was poorly attempting to clean the stain.

Only you would insult someone’s stain removal tactics at a time like this. Wow. This is like in The Proposal when Ryan Reynolds runs into naked Sandra Bullock. Did Nick have any unusual tattoos?

I was too busy throwing paper towel rolls at him to notice. And anyway, it was more like that scene from the Who’s the Boss opening credits when Tony sees Angela in the shower and he’s like *tortured Tony Danza scream*.

After a long pause, Annie responds, I like my references better. And for the record, you brought Nick up this time.

I scowl and quickly tap out a text. It was a moment of trauma. Forget we had this conversation. AND DO NOT WRITE A SCENE LIKE THIS INTO YOUR NEXT MOVIE.

Annie texts back the shrugging emoji. I write rom-coms. My literal job is including scenes like this.

I sigh and grab a muffin of my own from the baked goods case.

* * *

It turns out the muffins were a much bigger hit than I anticipated, because I only have three left by the time I sit down in the break room with Tracey. The “break room” is perhaps a generous name for what is really a tiny room with one table, no windows, a few chairs, and a microwave and fridge in the corner.

“Wow,” she says with her mouth full. “This is good. When are you gonna start your own bakery?”

I make a loud fart noise with my mouth, and a nurse pokes her head in the room.

“That wasn’t a real fart,” I say. “It was my mouth.”

She backs out of the room and Tracey laughs. “Uh, defensive much?”

I throw my hands in the air, exasperated. “These people deal with bodies all day! I don’t want her to think I’m being disrespectful!”

Tracey shakes her head. “Whatever. Anyway. Bakery. I’m envisioning the sign . . . Chloe’s Cookies.”

I wrinkle my nose. “Definitely sounds like a weird name for my vagina. No thanks.”

Tracey thinks about it. “I don’t know. Might be good for business.”

I ignore her and grab one of Hannah’s peanut butter paprika cookies.

“Those are so good, aren’t they?”

I nod, chewing. “Yeah. Wow. Think Hannah wants to share this recipe with me? I can for sure see these selling out at Nick’s.”

Tracey narrows her eyes.

I stop chewing. “What?”