While Annie attended an author’s brunch, I had slipped out of the hotel with my shopping list in hand. With the time getting closer and closer to when today’s event started, I adjusted my suit jacket and knocked on Annie’s door. “Just a sec!” she called out. A minute later, the door whipped open and red-haired Whitney West stood in front of me. “Sorry. My stomach just revolted after that brunch. Nothing says ‘welcome to D.C.’ quite like emergency diarrhea.” She froze, then tossed her head back and groaned. “Why did I say that?” I laughed. “We’ve all been there, am I right? You ready to go down
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