“I don’t have any ideas about you, Shelby,” Tess says. “I’m just having a bad day.” Shelby glances at the clock over the stove. “It’s barely 8:00 a.m.” Tess slips her fresh cup of coffee out from under the drip spout and transfers it to a travel mug. “Yeah, and I’m already this level of done. So, trust me when I say that it’s not you, it’s me.”
