The Best of Winter Renshaw - An 8 Book Collection - Winter Renshaw Page 0,192

against the counter, hunched forward. “No. I don’t remember anything about last night.”

“Not surprising. You never could hold your liquor,” she says, sighing. “Plus you said you were drinking Jäger, and you always do stupid shit when you drink Jäger. You should probably check your phone and make sure you didn’t call any ex-boyfriends.” She coughs. “Ethan.” She coughs again. “Noah.”

Shit. She’s probably right. She knows me well.

“Anyway, I’ll be there innnnn about five minutes,” Bostyn says.

I hang up with her and check my call history with suspended breath, breathing easy when I see there are no Ethans or Noahs in my call history. It never fails. I get drunk–I drunk dial ex-boyfriends. I’m a sentimental, gushing idiot when I’ve had too much to drink, and the alcohol always makes me temporarily forget all the reasons we didn’t work out, even if those reasons were rock solid.

Pulling up Safari, I check my web history as well because I’ve been known to do a bit of drunk-emailing in my day, though I suppose that comes with the whole writer territory. My agent tells me I’m the only person she knows who drunk–emails people, but I don’t believe her. There are more of us out there, I just know it.

The contents of my Google search history seem about right.

What time is in Los Angeles right now?

What time does Starbucks open tomorrow?

Starbucks + Lexington Avenue + NYC

How many calories are in a venti very berry hibiscus refresher?

Starrbuckks vs Dean and Delluucca who is better?

Turtle meeme

Turtle memee

Turrtle meme

Funny turtle memes

Baby sea turtle gif

Is there actual deer blood in Jägermeister?

Rhett Carson

Rhett Carson + New York Spartans

Rhett Carson hockey player

Are pet sloths legal?

Rhett Carson girlfriend

How tall is Rhett Carson?

Rhett Carson biography

Rhett Carson photos

Well, fuck. Drunk me must’ve been doing a bit of research last night. I laugh and place my phone back on the charger. I have zero recollection of any of that. I wonder if I found anything good, or what the hell made me so curious that I had to dig up everything I could about this poor man.

A knock at my door a moment later sends a giant smile to my face, and I do a little jump when I check the peephole and spy the incomparable Bostyn Beckford on the other side. I throw my arms around her, burying my face in her signature sunshine blonde hair and breathing in her nostalgic Coco Mademoiselle perfume, and I try not to knock her over.

“Okay, okay. Good God, get off me. You know I’m not a hug-y person,” she laughs. “Let me put the coffee down so I don’t spill it down your back.”

I let her go and follow her to the kitchen. She hands me my coffee and takes a seat on one of the bar stools.

“You look good,” she says, eyes dragging the length of me. “I mean, you look tired right now, but you look good. You haven’t aged at all.”

“I don’t think the aging process is that noticeable when you go from twenty-four to twenty-five.” I give her a wink and sip my coffee, and then I close my eyes and enjoy it because it’s nothing short of amazing.

“Figured you could use some help with all this.” She looks around at Bryce’s things, and she doesn’t try to mask the repulsed look on her face. “This place is nice as hell and it looks like a dump. This man lived like an animal.” She covers her mouth. “Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t talk about him like that.”

I wave my hand. “He did live like an animal. I spent all morning doing his dishes, and I almost threw up twice because they were so disgusting.”

Bostyn slides off the bar stool and moves to the window. “I mean look at this view. Do you know what kind of view I have? Do you? My view is of a parking garage and a karaoke lounge. I would kill for this view.”

She turns back to the living room, eyeing the cluster of throw pillows on the ground and the half-empty beer bottles littering the coffee table. Without saying a word, she begins tidying up, fluffing pillows and carrying trash away in her arms. Five minutes later, the living room looks amazing.

“How’s the bedroom situation? You want me to handle his bedroom?” she asks.

I shrug. “Sure.”

Bostyn disappears down the hall, her coffee in one hand. A second later, she screams, and I bolt across the apartment to get to her.

“Dirty condoms!” she shrieks, covering her