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Amy broke up with Brent by a phone call.
How pathetic was that?
I sighed. “Fine, fine,” I muttered. I crouched down and, getting a good grip on the box, lifted it up, revealing the second behind it. “Brent,” I said as I made my way to the door, “Holly’s dragging me to the recycling center. We’ll be back in about fifteen minutes.”
Holly paced from one end of the main room to the other, which only took about five steps. “So, if his car is still here, that means he can’t have driven anywhere.”
“Which is why I said laundry,” I explained. “There’s a laundry room downstairs.”
She frowned at me. “And leave his slice of pizza just sitting there?”
I shrugged. “He can be eccentric like that sometimes.”