Page 15 of The Overtime Kiss

Instead, I grab a fork, stab a few blueberries, savor the tang of the fruit, then take a bite of a buttery scone, hearing my therapist’s voice telling meit’s okay to enjoy life’s small pleasures, even if they aren’t on your to-do list.

It feels a tiny bit wrong to enjoy anything today after yesterday’s disasters, but I’ve spent a long time learning how to savor little things. The race of my heart when I see a frozen lake, the taste of melting caramel, the warm sun on my shoulders when I’m outside in the garden in the summer. They all add up tofree time. Something I was never encouraged to enjoy growing up.

I take one more bite, since that’s all I truly want—this taste of free time, in a way—then leave the rest on the plate.

Before I go though—and I really should take off before he returns—I jot a note:

I can’t thank you enough for being such a gentleman. Also, I love minty toothpaste, so thank you for that too. And everything.

-Sabrina

I place the note on top of his suitcase, then leave the room, ready to face the shambles that is my life when a notification pings on my phone for my next skating lesson with Luna Falcon. I gulp. The day after I was supposed to return from my honeymoon. Now it’ll just be a random weekday—one where I have to see the man I threw myself at.

I guess I’ve officially entered my hot mess phase.

Rhonda comes to the rescue, as advertised. I’m overcome with gratitude when she pulls up outside the Cozy Valley Inn in her black Prius, pineapple-shaped air freshener dangling from the rearview mirror.

She leans across, shoves the passenger door open, and grins up at me. “Tell me everything.”

Her white hair blends seamlessly with her pale complexion, and there’s a grandmotherly vibe about her—if grandmothers wore purple sweatshirts featuring a cat riding a unicorn and brandishing a lightsaber. Below the graphic, it reads:Here I Come to Save the Day.

“Where do I even start?” I buckle my seatbelt and sigh. “Ever blowtorched your life and then woken up with a headache, no place to live, and the realization that you don’t make enough money to pay rent?”

She flashes me a smile. “Honey, you just described half of America—give or take the blowtorch.”

Her can-do spirit draws out a laugh I didn’t know I had in me. “Well, let’s just say I’m in the half with the blowtorch. I need to get my act together. Not only did I run away from a wedding where I was nearly gaslit into marrying a cheater, I was fired by my family and capped off the night by hitting on the hot dad of one of my skating students.”

“Ooh, how hot?” she teases, pulling onto the winding road toward San Francisco. “Don’t leave out a single thing.”

I don’t hold back. I describe Tyler in excruciatingly delicious detail—from his rugged beard to his full lips to those piercing eyes that just…undo me.

“I think you need to bang him,” Rhonda declares matter-of-factly, “so I can live vicariously through you.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yes. Please, for all of us. Ride that hot daddy and then tell me everything.” She sighs happily as she switches lanes. “I wouldn’t mind finding a sexy pool boy myself.”

Her playful honesty is refreshing, but she quickly shifts gears. “Now, what’s next? You need a plan.”

“I do.” I tell her about the foster kitten I need to pick up. “Are you okay with a kitten in the car?”

She scoffs, giving me a look that suggests I’ve said something absurd. “Did you see my shirt?”

“Scratch that. Of course you don’t mind.”

A few minutes later, we pull up to the cat-sitter’s house in Sausalito, a few miles away from where I lived recently with Fuck Chad.I’ll need to get my things from his place and have someone bring my things from the hotel in Lucky Falls, but I’ll figure that out later. For now, I retrieve a pink crate containing a tiny orange kitten who meows excitedly at the sight of me, as if saying,I did good, didn’t I?

I scratch under his chin. “Yes, you did, little guy. Thank you for looking out for me.”

When I’m back in Rhonda’s car, with Furby tucked safely onto the backseat, she asks, “Where to next?”

I’ve already texted Isla and Leighton to see if they can meet me. Because what does a runaway bride need most? Her friends.

“High Kick Coffee.” I give Rhonda directions to Leighton’s favorite coffee shop. Of course, the owner happens to be Tyler’s grandmother. But the man who left me a heartfelt note after I drunkenly threw myself at him won’t be there today because he’s golfing. I never thought I’d say this but thank god for little white balls. I’m not sure I could face Tyler yet, even though I’ve already decided I’ll keep that note forever. Facing him at Luna’s next skating lesson? That’s future Sabrina’s problem.

As we drive toward the coffee shop, I share more of my epic spiral with Rhonda, including my current state of homelessness. She listens, then dives right into problem solving. “I’ve got a friend who owns a vegetarian hot dog place called Garlic Crush. She’s got a little micro-studio above it. She’s been thinking of renting it as an Airbnb but hasn’t listed it yet. I could ask her.”

Rhonda’s offer feels like a lifeline, but it’s also a reminder of how far I’ve fallen. A hot dog place and garlic fumes aren’t exactly my dream. But then again, when your life’s a pile of ashes, you can’t be picky about where you start rebuilding. Besides, I know exactly what rent looks like in San Francisco—way out of my league. But my business is here, and I need to be close to potential clients.

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