THE TWENTY-THIRD

I have just finished piping the final teal and cream swirls onto my dark chocolate and raspberry muffins. A glance at the clock tells me we have an hour before the couriers turn up to collect the parcels, and we still have to pack up the muffins into individual boxes, tie them up with ribbon and attach the invites. Thank heavens there are plenty of hands-on deck to help, and I am grateful that Mum has had the foresight to organise our mini production line.

Half an hour later, I sigh in relief as the last invite is tied to its box. I am exhausted. My night was filled with disturbing dreams where I kept trying to tell Taylor that I loved him, but numerous obstacles kept getting in my way. When I pulled myself out of bed at five this morning, I didn’t feel like I had even slept though I know I must have. Dark circles are etched under my eyes, and I can see the concern on my friends’ faces.

I still haven’t heard from Taylor, and I know that worry is also adding to my exhaustion. Taylor