Page 19 of Set to Love

“Merde,” I say, offering the traditional dancer’s version of good luck.

He flashes a brilliant smile. “Thanks. I’ll need it.”

He closes the door, and for a second, we just look at each other through the open window. Neither one of us seems quite ready to break away. But finally, he turns and disappears through the stage door.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Doubt creeps in. In hindsight, I should’ve done the responsible thing, like Max, and said no, I’m not available. The Coral Bay ITF is two weeks from today. I should be in full-on prep mode. There is so much riding on the line.

Then there’s the small detail my aunt sprung on me this morning—I’ll be homeless in three weeks. No biggie, right?

My eyes open as I exhale. Somehow this morning, all that seems trivial. All I can think about right now is Max. And how much I want to spend time with him.

For the first time in as long as I can remember, tennis isn’t the most important thing in my life. And that realization scares me.

Six

The Sunday night dinner rush at Mamma Lina’s is finally over. For the first time since my shift started, I have a second to pop into the kitchen and grab a glass of water.

Lina is hovering over a stainless-steel mixing bowl with a wooden spoon clutched in her hand. She’s experimenting on a batch of espresso-infused mascarpone for the upcoming week’s tiramisu special.

One of the perks of working here is serving as her unofficial taste tester. According to Lina, we need to know what we’re recommending to customers. I have to agree. It’s an excellent policy.

“There you are, cara,” Lina says, her voice dropping into that tone that means the gossip session has officially begun. “I’ve been dying to ask you all night.” She points the spoon at me. “How did your date with Max go?”

Am I surprised she’s already digging? Not even a little. In her past life, I’m convinced Lina was a high-stakes celebrity-news reporter. She has a sixth sense for a brewing story.

“It was fun,” I say, trying to sound casual as I help myself to a handful of raspberries. “We went to the Glass Arboretum and had breakfast.”

“Mm-hmm. And?” She glances up at me.

“And nothing. After we ate, I dropped him off at the theatre.” I pop the berries into my mouth and chew slowly.

She pauses and looks me straight in the eye. “Did he have the spark? Or was he as dry as a day-old biscotti?”

I choke a little. My brain flashes to the lopsided grin he gave me in the 4Runner and the way he watched me shove all my clothing into the back seat, and was too polite to make a comment about it.

“He wasn’t dry,” I admit. “He was funny. And surprisingly easy to talk to. I’m . . . I’m taking him to see some manatees tomorrow.”

“Another date already? Perfecto.” Lina’s entire face lights up. She’s already mentally jumped ahead to planning our wedding menu. I can see it in the way she whisks the cream. “I’ll have Randy come in to cover your shift again.”

“No, it’s fine. I can still come in and take care of baking all the day’s bread. I’ll just leave here by eight.”

“I don’t know, cara. I don’t want to see you spread yourself too thinly,” she says, shooting me a knowing, motherly look that makes me want to both hug her and hide.

I appreciate the concern. But the reality of needing to scrape together a security deposit on top of everything else is sitting heavy in the back of my mind. It’s like being on a treadmill set to a sprint. I can’t stop. I have to keep running forward just to stay in the same place.

“I can handle it,” I say firmly.

Lina studies me for a long moment.

“All right,” she says at last, letting out a slow breath. “But if it becomes too much, you tell me. No heroics. Capisce?”

She slides two small plates toward me—one topped with orange-zest cream, the other with fresh raspberries folded in. “Take these to Theo and tell me which one he likes better.” Her eyes twinkle. “That boy needs a pick-me-up.”

I take the plates and head back out toward the dining room. Sure enough, Theo is hunched over his laptop at his usual corner table with a stack of papers at his side.

I clear my throat. “Theo, Lina has an important job for you.”

He rubs his face with both hands, looking up with a weary but appreciative smile. “As long as it doesn’t involve filling out more liability paperwork, I’ll gladly take the distraction.”