Brad's POV
The doorbell rang as I was waking up from a bender. I woke up groggily and whispered, "Hold on." My schedule was shaky. I saw I was still wearing boxers and shakily put on jeans and a ragged shirt before approaching the living room. As the bell rung again, I said, "Give me a minute." A stressed-out blonde was holding duffel bags and sneering when I opened the door. "Emily."
She shrewdly mumbled, "He survives," then entered with contempt. The words slammed me into the wall. "Brad! The interior is horrible."
She stared at me and threw the bags as I apologized.
