The first rule of girlhood survival: never, ever resurrect the man you’ve already declared emotionally dead.
So imagine my shock when he, the one I swore was buried six feet under in the cemetery of my past, shows up. Not only alive, but ready to stroll into my carefully curated, chaos-free life. Worse? He might derail the company I’ve been sweating over for months.
Leave it to a man to show up when my girlfriends and I are already on the verge of ordering matching “I survived a disaster” T-shirts.
Fine. Whatever. I’ll keep my focus where it belongs: on launching my dating app. Because nothing, absolutely nothing, is more important than proving I can build this thing. Even if my heart insists on glitching every time he walks into the room.