"Okay, and one last question," the reporter said with a smile. "Can you tell us, Amelia, which decision you've made in your life so far that you consider the best?"

"Well, I'd say my best decision was replacing my boyfriend with a cat," she answered promptly.

"Really? Why's that?" the reporter seemed to be taken aback a bit by Amelia's response.

"Well, for starters, a cat can't cheat on you, but a boyfriend can, and he probably will, since it seems to be in their nature," Amelia smiled knowing that she probably had just caused her mother a heart attack and added: "Plus, and this is even more important, a cat won't eat the entire bowl of your favourite avocado salad from the fridge. So, girls, dump your boyfriends and get a cat instead. You'll be much happier."

"Well, it's a...." the reporter seemed to start sweating as she was looking for suitable words to continue with and for ones that would be able to smooth things over a bit. "It's something worth mulling over if you are a girl and your boyfriend likes avocados."

"Well, I reckon you should think about this option if you have a boyfriend period," Amelia smiled sweetly.

"Okay and with this very straightforward relationship piece of advice we bid you good night, New York! Thank you, Amelia, for coming and we can't wait for reading your new book Cupid's Jokes!" the woman interviewing Amelia couldn't be happier about the fact that the interview had just come to its end.

"Thank you for having me, Stella!" said Amelia and stood up from the most uncomfortable armchair she had ever sat in. She was proud of herself she nailed the interview, and she probably caused her mother a heart attack too – two birds with one stone.

Just as she was leaving the studio of the late night show she had been invited to her telephone went crazy ringing with a string of new incoming messages.

Bell: Your mom is gonna be so freaking mad at ya! But I could not be prouder, and it means a lot coming from me.

Mother: Amelia Elisabeth Wilkins what have you just done?! Call me! IMEDIATELY!!!

Dad: It was hilarious! Congrats! I'm proud. Your mother on the other hand...

Sister: Am, please, I'm so sorry. I want to talk to you! Answer me. Please.

D**k: I did not eat that avocado salad!

Amelia read through the messages, a smirk forming on her face as she processed each one. Her mother was seething with anger, and her sister was again pathetically trying to make up. So, there were no changes to the usual.

Her phone buzzed again with a new notification—an incoming call from her mother. For a little while, she contemplated whether she should answer it or not since she was certain that her mother wasn't calling to congratulate her on the publishing of her new book. She was calling to scold her, as always. Amelia knew she would have to face her mother eventually, so she finally picked up with a huge sigh.

"Hello, Mother," was all she managed to say before the yelling from the other side started.

"Amelia Elisabeth Wilkins!" her mother's voice boomed. "What on earth were you thinking?! You made such a spectacle on TV!"

"It was just a bit of fun, even though all I said was true. Cats are way better companions than boyfriends."

"A bit of fun? You embarrassed us all!" her mother replied, the volume of her voice rising rapidly. "Have you even thought about the consequences of your actions? Your father's reputation, our family's reputation?!"

"Of course, I am the family embarrassment. Thanks for reminding me," Amelia said, rolling her eyes.

"Your father is even more disappointed than I am. Why are you doing this to us? To yourself? Do you know you won't be able to find a suitable match to marry? Don't you want to marry?"

"Don't go there, Mother. Just don't go there," Amelia hissed, feeling a wave of anger washing over her like a huge tidal wave. "And just for your information, Dad thinks it was hilarious."

"Of course, he does. He has always had a strange sense of humour, but he still wants you to marry."

"And I want to be happy and calm, so I'm gonna go."

"Don't you dare hang up on me, Amelia," her mother yelled. Amelia hung up.

As Amelia ended the call, she felt a mix of relief and frustration. Her mother always had a way of pushing her buttons, and tonight was no exception. She took a deep breath and checked her messages again. Another one from her sister. Sarah's pleas for a conversation tugged at her heartstrings, but she wasn't ready to deal with that just yet. The wound was still too fresh and yet it smelled like a rotten egg.

She decided to take a taxi and head home instead of meeting her old college friends in one of those shiny bars for people who possessed way too much money. She wanted to treat herself to a relaxing evening. The call with her mother had drained her of every single ounce of energy she had left.

At home, she changed into her comfiest pyjamas, which she loved so much she wouldn't have a problem being buried in these two pieces of clothing even though they were worn out and had pictures of Minnie Mouse all over them. She poured herself a decent glass of white wine and curled up on the couch with a book—Richly Ridiculous: Tales from the Old Money Elite. It contained just the right amount of drama and scandals, as well as enough handsome, stuck-up bachelors with private jets.

Just as she was settling back into her book, there was a loud knock on the front door. Frowning, she set the book down and got up to answer it. She hoped it was not her sister or, worse, her mother. She had had enough family conversations for the night already. To her surprise, it was her neighbour, Mrs. Thompson—an old lady with the best baking skills in the world, holding a plate of freshly baked cookies.

"I saw you on TV, dear. You really are a witty one. The reporter was having a hard time keeping up," Mrs. Thompson said, a warm smile plastered on her face. "So, I thought you might need a little treat after all that excitement."

Amelia couldn't help but laugh. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Thompson. You have no idea how much I need this. Come on in!"

"Your mother bombarded you with messages and calls after the interview, I suppose." Mrs. Thompson had that knowing expression while sitting down.

"Well, there was a message containing capital letters and," Amelia paused for a moment before continuing, "and then there was a very pleasant call about me being a family embarrassment."

Mrs. Thompson shook her head in disbelief; she could not wrap her head around the way Amelia's mother was treating her own daughter. "You did great during that interview, Amelia. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Thank you," Amelia's face softened. It was a long time ago when she realized Mrs. Thompson was more of a mother to her than her own mother ever had been. It was a sad realization at first, but then she ate the whole plate of the world's best cookies, and everything was all right.

Poppy appeared from the bedroom, stretching and yawning—a hard life for a cat—and when she saw Mrs. Thompson sitting on the couch, she hopped onto it and curled into a ball on Mrs. Thompson's lap. Amelia watched as Poppy made herself comfortable, a content purr filling the room. The sight brought a smile to her face, even though there was also a sting of jealousy because she was the one feeding this furry ball, and still, she often received a cold shoulder.

Mrs. Thompson gently stroked Poppy's fur, looking every bit as content as the cat. "You know, Amelia," she began, "your mother is an exceedingly difficult woman to deal with, but I still believe she means well, even though I definitely don't agree with the way she has been expressing it."

Amelia sighed. "I doubt it. She just wants me to fit into this perfect mold she created ages ago and is angry with me because I don't fit in it."

Mrs. Thompson nodded. She felt sorry for this young woman. "It's important to stay true to yourself, dear."

They chatted for a while longer, talking about everything and nothing. The cookies were quickly devoured, and the bottle of wine was empty, much like Mrs. Thompson's son's bank account at the end of the month. Amelia felt a sense of peace settle over her; she had always found solace in Mrs. Thompson's company. Eventually, Mrs. Thompson stood up, gently moving Poppy aside, but the cat gave her a stern, disapproving look nonetheless. "I should get back home. It's getting late."

"Thank you again for the cookies and the company," Amelia said, walking her to the door. When she closed the door, she leaned against it for a moment, reflecting on the evening. She was exhausted.

Deciding to call it a night, she put away her book, finished the rest of what had been left in the wine glass, and headed to the bedroom. Poppy followed, jumping onto the bed and curling up at the foot. Amelia climbed under the covers and checked her phone for the last time. There was a message from her publisher: The response to your interview is incredible. We're seeing a spike in pre-orders for Cupid's Jokes. Great job!

As she drifted off to sleep, she thought about her mother and how much she was going to fume once she read the book.

She was deep in sleep, her dreams filled with half-naked Aaron Taylor-Johnson and their secret rendezvous on a private beach in the Caribbean. Suddenly, a loud, urgent banging jolted her from her slumber. She sat up with a start, her heart racing as she tried to make sense of the noise while mourning her lost opportunity to play an adult version of tic-tac-toe with Aaron. "No, no, no, no! Damn it!" She ran her fingers through her hair in pure frustration. Groggily, she glanced at the clock—freaking four in the morning.

She rubbed her eyes and lay back down, hoping that if she tried hard enough, she might fall asleep quickly enough to still grasp Aaron's hand and finish their game. But the banging continued, relentless and insistent. She sighed and stumbled out of bed. She squinted through the darkness, shuffling to the front door, her mind still hazy with sleep.

Peering through the peephole, she saw the unmistakable figure of her ex, Sean. His hair was sticking out in all directions, and his face was a picture of pure desperation.

"Seriously?" she muttered, rubbing her forehead. She considered not opening the door, but Sean kept banging. He apparently likes all types of banging, she thought to herself with a small snort escaping her lips.

She opened the door just enough to see his wide, surprised eyes. She stifled a yawn. "It's four in the morning, dickhead. What do you want?"

He looked flustered, his hands sweaty and flailing as he tried to convey his thoughts. "I know it's late, but I miss you, and I know I messed up big time, but I love you, and I need you. I should have done this sooner."

"You're kidding, right? You woke me up at four in the morning for this?" she blinked.

"I know it sounds crazy, but I didn't know how else to reach you. You don't answer my messages or calls. I just wanted to make things right!"

She sighed deeply, her patience wearing thin. "Well, you could have sent me a letter or a pigeon. You," she pointed at him, "showing up and banging at my door at four in the morning is not exactly the most thoughtful way to handle things, don't you think?"

"I thought if I came in person, it would show how serious I am. I guess I miscalculated."

"You know what, Sean? I don't care anymore how serious you are or aren't. I don't want to entertain this meaningless conversation any longer. Go home or wherever you want. I bid you good night," she slammed the door in his face.

As she turned away from the door, she couldn't help but mutter under her breath. "Well, that's one way to ruin a perfectly good dream about a beach and Aaron Taylor-Johnson."

She shuffled back to the bedroom, settled back into bed and pulled the covers up, trying to shake off the lingering annoyance of the early morning disturbance. She glanced at her phone, which somehow managed to stay silent through the whole ordeal. "No texts from Aaron, no updates from the Caribbean. Figures."

With a final sigh, she closed her eyes and as the house settled back into its quiet rhythm, her thoughts wandered back to her dream. She could almost feel the warmth of the Caribbean sun and the soothing sound of waves. "If only dreams were as reliable as exes are unbearable."

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Hi everyone!

The first chapter is out! I'm having a total OH. MY. GOD. moment right now, haha.

I really hope you guys like the story because, honestly, I'm in love with Amelia (haha). She's been living in my head for a few months now, and I think you're going to love her too. She's a lot of fun to be around.

xx

Hanca