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I sit up slowly, blinking through the fog as I scrub at my eyes. Next to my purse, I spot a fresh cup of coffee and a handwritten note.

Morning, Sleeping Beauty,

No, you’re not dreaming. You are, in fact, sitting in my living room. You passed out hard last night. Your boyfriend (Is he officially the boyfriend yet? Discuss later.) didn’t want to wake you, so we staged a coordinated extraction. Minus the theme music.

We loaded you into your 4Runner, I dropped him off at his hotel, and then I drove us back here. I figured you’d need your car in the morning. I can just grab an Uber or Lyft to Lina’s later to pick up mine. Mi casa es su casa.

—Zoe

P.S. Because you’re a freak of nature, I’m sure you’ll be up well before the sun. The coffee in the mug is technically yesterday’s. Sorry. But at least it’ll be ready for you. Stick it in the microwave for fifty seconds. Protein powder is in the usual spot. If you’re heading to the complex gym, the code is 2657.

P.P.S. Fresh towel and your emergency stash of clothes are waiting in the bathroom. Text me when you’re alive. Preferably after nine.

I let out a long, shaky breath and lean my head back against the cushions. The thought of Max and Zoe hauling my deadweight body across a parking lot is mortifying, yet a small part of me is giddy that he stayed until I was safe. I just wish I’d been semiconscious enough to realize it.

I check my phone. It’s three a.m. My body is hardwired to be up by four. Even if I tried, there’s no way I’d be able to fall back asleep. I peel back the Little Mermaid blanket and stretch. My joints pop and crackle way more than they should for somebody my age.

By the time ten o’clock rolls around, I’ve pushed myself through a brutal workout and made a quick grocery run to Publix. As I pull into Aunt Sarah’s driveway, the front door swings open, and she steps out onto the porch, shielding her eyes from the mid-morning sun. “Hey, sweetie!” she calls out, waving.

“Hi, Aunt Sarah,” I grunt, hoisting a stack of flattened cardboard under one arm and my grocery bag under my other.

“You’ve been a ghost around here lately,” she says, walking down the driveway with a light laugh that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You had me worried I was going to have to pack all your stuff for you.”

“Sorry,” I say, shifting the bag up higher on my hip. “Work’s been a zoo. I was planning to start last night.”

“Joe and I saw the feature on Channel Six. Lina’s is much nicer than I expected for a cozy little hole-in-the-wall spot.”

I bite back a remark. I know Aunt Sarah doesn’t mean for that to come across as an insult, but it lands like one anyway. She and Uncle Joe have always had a refined Michelin-star palate.

“I was talking to the other ladies at the country club, and we were considering going there for lunch tomorrow. Think you can get us a table? There’d be about ten of us.”

I manage another nod, though the thought of serving my aunt’s snobby friends in Lina’s tiny dining room makes my head spin a little. “I’ll have to ask Lina, but we should be able to make it work.”

She flashes me a satisfied smile. “I told the ladies you’d take care of us. And I assume we get the family discount?”

Yeah, no. Not going to happen. Especially when I know she has no problems dropping five grand on a Chanel bag. Saving five bucks on a salad won’t put a dent in her bank account.

I force a smile that I hope doesn’t come across as a grimace. This conversation is getting more awkward by the second. “I’d better get started on that packing.” I turn toward the pool house.

“Oh, Katie . . . one more thing.”

I pause mid-step, digging into my side.

“I forgot to ask . . . were you interested in renting the guest room?”

I swallow hard. Renting the guest room wasn’t something I’d even thought to ask about. It would save me a huge headache if I only had to move my stuff a couple of feet away instead of finding an apartment.

“Er . . . exactly how much were you thinking?”

“Well, your uncle did some research and looked at comparable rentals in the area.” She smiles. “Since we’re including utilities and not asking for a security deposit, we thought eighteen hundred seemed fair.”

For a moment, I’m too stunned to respond.

Eighteen hundred dollars? For a single bedroom in a house where I’d still have to share a kitchen and bathroom? Apparently, the family discount only flows one way in Winter Park. At this rate, an Airbnb would be a better deal. Not to mention that I wouldn’t have to worry about bumping into Uncle Joe in his bathrobe.

I plaster on my best I totally have my life together smile. “Actually, I’m signing a lease this weekend. Just finalizing a few last-minute details. I’ll be completely moved out by Saturday.”

“Oh!” Aunt Sarah looks genuinely surprised. “I’ll let your uncle know.”