Zoe was taking New Year's Day off, which in this case was less about the holiday and more about the technicolor cocktails Riley James had been pouring down her. Hearts always partied loud and hard and ultimately painfully. It had been a good temporary balm.

But only temporary, and despite the water Victor had her drink the night before and the advil she'd taken at night and again in the morning, she'd woken with gritty, bloodshot eyes. Her tortoiseshell glasses were making a rare appearance until she could bear her contacts. No matter, she wasn't leaving the room until she felt human. A day with tea and Jane Austen.

The knock at the door was a bit unexpected, and she only opened it a crack, one blue eye peeking out from behind the thick plastic frame of her glasses.

"...Mr. Chives," she said. Unexpected.