forgetting my bag in the company car, walking around the legal department like a confused intern, the soul-destroying eye contact with Carter through the elevator doors, getting on the wrong elevator and meeting Amy Stone Ford in real life.
Carrie screams at that part.
“No, because wait...” she cuts in loudly. “THE Amy Stone?”
“Yes!”
“The Oscar winner and Carter's wife?”
“Yes!
Carrie, she’s even prettier in person. It’s actually offensive.”
Carrie falls back dramatically against her pillow. “I can totally imagine. God really has favorites.”
“And then,” I pause.
Carrie
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