Page 17 of Set to Love

“What’s the story behind them? Why postcards?”

“My gran.” He slowly stirs his spoon through his yogurt. “She worked for British Airways. Whenever she and my granddad traveled, they’d send me a postcard instead of bringing back souvenirs. I used to love looking them over and making lists of places I wanted to visit.” He rubs the back of his neck. “After she passed away, I kept the tradition going. Every city I tour, I try to find a new one.”

“How many do you have?”

“A couple hundred, give or take.”

“That’s really sweet.”

“Don’t spread it around,” he warns, playfully. “I’ve got a reputation as the sarcastic Brit to maintain.”

I laugh. “Do you have a favorite? Postcard, I mean.”

He considers it for a moment. “Probably the one my gran sent from Cappadocia in Turkey. But Meteora in Greece is a close second. How about you? Do you collect anything?”

“No. Just stray water bottles.”

He tilts his head, blinking. “Water bottles? That’s. . .unique.”

Inside my head, I am screaming. Why did I say that?

“I don’t actually collect them,” I scramble to explain. “They just sort of multiply in my back seat. I’ll clean my car out, and a week later, there’s a small graveyard of them rolling around on the back seat.”

His shoulders shake with silent laughter.

I quickly take a bite of my food to keep myself from digging the hole any deeper. Thankfully he takes pity on me.

“So, perhaps you can help,” Max says, rescuing me. “I’ve been trying to find a decent postcard to represent Orlando before we leave. But so far, everything has been tacky palm trees or a certain famous mouse.”

“There’s a little shop around the corner from Lina’s that sells local prints. I bet I can find you one with oranges, a gator, or maybe even a manatee.”

“A manatee would be brilliant,” he says, sitting up a bit straighter. “I already have a gator from our stop in Tampa.”

“It’s settled then. I’ll get you a manatee.”

“Thank you,” he says. “Too bad there aren’t any around here. I’d love to see one.”

The opportunity presents itself, and before my brain’s filter can stop me, I jump. “You actually can. There’s a place called Blue Spring State Park where they hang out. I could take you on Monday, if you want.”

“Really? You’d do that?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“That would be brilliant.”

And just like that, my carefully planned week has completely unraveled. Again. I’m already mentally rehearsing how I’m going to ask Lina for more time off. Somewhere in my head, Zoe is cheering loud enough for both of us. “Atta girl.”

“I’ll text you the details later.” I glance down at my watch and nearly choke on my tea. “Wait, how is it ten-fifteen already?”

Max groans. “Right. I’ll have to order an Uber in a few minutes.”

“Forget the Uber,” I say, already grabbing my purse and sliding my chair back. “I’ll take you. It’ll save you the wait time, and since I was the one who was late, it’s the least I can do.”

“You don’t have to do that, Katie.”

“I’m already halfway to the door, Max. Let’s go.”

Plus it’ll give us a few more minutes together.