Sleet Banshee by S.J. Tilly

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

MEGHAN

Dear Diary,

What. The. Fuck. Should. I. Do.

Seriously, I’m losing my mind over here. I’ve baked about a dozen coffee cakes in the past 24 hours, and I’ve run out of people to give them to. I’ve started putting them into gallon bags so I can hand them out to strangers on the street.

I don’t know why I thought I could handle this problem on my own; clearly I didn’t learn my lesson from the last time. I guess I’m just sick of being the drama queen of the group. I mean, I don’t mind it when it’s fun drama, but this… this is bullshit drama. I feel like I’m in a sitcom. Or a cheesy romcom, only instead of Kate Hudson the audience is stuck with me - the heavier, psychotic version of a Disney princess.

I just want to call him. And forgive him. And tell him that I love him, too. And pretend that it’s not super weird, and a little bit creepy, that his sister sorta stalked me.

Ahhh! What should I do?!

Okay, in the morning I’m calling Katelyn for an emergency advice session. It’ll be Monday, her wedding weekend will be over, so she can drop the goo-goo eyes long enough to help me deal with my shit.

Plus, I have about six more coffee cakes to finish baking tonight.

XoxoX