Page 15

My brain is still stuck. “I thought the renovations weren’t starting until September,” I say slowly.

Aunt Sarah frowns, finally closing her laptop and giving me her focused attention. “Sweetie, the demo is slated to start in September, but the contactors are trying to squeeze us in early. We want everything move-in ready for Aaron the moment he finishes summer school.”

“When do you need me out by?”

“We were thinking mid-August.” She hesitates. “I know it’s short notice, but do you think you’ll be able to find somewhere by then?”

I swallow hard. I thought I had at least two more months to figure this out, but my timeline just evaporated into three short weeks.

“No . . . it’s totally fine. Won’t be a problem,” I lie through my teeth.

Aunt Sarah smiles. “You’ve always been so adaptable, Katie. Just like your dad.”

“Yeah, just like him.” I smile back tightly.

“I won’t keep you any longer sweetie. Have a great day,” she says, giving a small wave.

I stumble blindly toward my 4Runner and slip into the driver’s seat. My pulse is racing as fast as a hamster on a wheel.

I have twenty-one days.

Where is a security deposit going to come from? First and last month’s rent? I don’t even have time to look for a place. Between Lina’s and the court, I’m already training less than I should be.

I close my eyes and force myself to take a slow, measured breath. In for four, out for four.

There’s no need to panic yet. I’ll figure it out. I always do. I’ll sleep on Zoe’s floor, or I’ll pick up extra shifts, or I’ll finally win a tournament check that covers more than a steak dinner.

But right now, the name of the game is Max. I need one positive thing to look forward to today before the rest of my life starts to unravel.

Five

It’s 9:20 when I park. I jog to the entrance of the Glass Arboretum, breathing hard. I stop just short of the handle, taking one last frantic second to check my reflection in the glass.

Zoe’s handiwork stares back at me. My hair has been straightened and pulled into a sleek high ponytail. I’m wearing a cobalt-blue blouse with sheer puffy sleeves tucked into my best pair of jeans, and Zoe’s black knee-high boots. I feel uncharacteristically polished.

Taking a deep breath, I pull the door open and step inside, soaking in the rich scent of expensive coffee. The Glass Arboretum is a restored greenhouse in downtown Orlando, which sounds like a terrible idea for a Florida-based business until you realize it has amazing air conditioning. Whoever renovated the place understood the assignment.

Three of the walls are made up of floor-to-ceiling glass, flooding the space with soft, natural light. The fourth is made up of reclaimed shiplap. Hanging ferns crowd the ceiling, and every surface seems to host some kind of exotic plant.

Max is already here, leaning against a wrought-iron table near the back. He catches my eye and waves. His gaze flicks over me, taking me in. He smiles widely.

I stand taller and wave back as I walk over. “Hey. Sorry I’m late. I was trying to be on time, but I guess I didn’t leave early enough.”

“Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t sure how long it would take to get here either, but my Uber came straightaway.”

“Oh, how far is your hotel from here? I thought this place was within walking distance.” I shift my purse to my other shoulder.

“It is. About fifteen minutes.” His cheeks color. “The tour company booked us into the Magnolia Grand Hotel, but I, er, wanted to save my legs. It’s a double-show day.”

“Gotcha,” I say, nodding. “I bet that feels like running a marathon. That’s what . . . six hours on stage?”

“Something like that.” He shrugs.

“What time do you have to show up for the first call?”

We head toward the counter. “The matinee is at one, but we’re expected to be checked in by ten-thirty for warm-up and to review the spacing before the house opens.”

I wince. It’s already nine-thirty. That only gives him about an hour to eat, grab his gear, and get across town to the theatre.