Page 4 of The Amazing Date

“It’s art. If I have to tell you, then I’ve failed.”

I stare down at the strange structure. It’s unrecognizable.

Zion steps forward, twisting it. “To appreciate art, you need to see all of it. Don’t just stare at it head-on—look at it from every angle. Look for the unexpected. Open up your imagination, and a world of solutions may appear.”

He steps back to give me space to process. I lift the delicate piece, turning it, hoping to see what he sees. It finally clicks. A smile sweeps across my face.

I lower the design to the desktop. “It’s two ballerinas. One has fallen, and the second one is helping her up.”

A beaming Zion stands in the doorway. “My work here is done. You would have kicked ass on the Claire account. Enjoy your vacation, come back recharged, and let’s show them what they’ve missed out on.”

“Send me an email twice a day with the updates. I want to stay on top of this.” I feel the anxiety rising in my chest. Visions of the team playing hooky and hanging out in Washington Square Park all day fill my head.

“Yeah, I’m not going to do that.” Zion blows a kiss in my direction before disappearing down the hall.

I plop back into my office chair. That’s fine—I have a few spies on the administrative staff who will be more than willing to provide me with updates. I hold up the LEGO structure and smile.

Maybe everything is going to be okay. My office line rings. I recognize the prefix but not the number. Los Angeles.

The second I hear his voice, I know for the second time today bad news is on its way.

“Rylee, this is Roberto. I’m with Gabby at the hospital. There’s been an accident.”

Chapter 4

Roberto

“This had better not be a joke, Roberto.” I’m not sure what I expected when I dialed the number to the last person on the planet I wanted to share this news with, but being questioned and threatened were nowhere on that list.

“Do you know who you are talking to? This is my sister. What the hell is wrong with you?” These are the first words I’ve directly spoken to Rylee in four years, and they are filled with venom and anger. No matter how many times my head tells me it was just a stupid, impulsive accident, petty anger clouds my head and spouts from my lips.

The line goes quiet, and an image of Rylee, eyes wide, lips pursed, flashes before me. “Is she okay? What happened? What did you do?” The questions come quick and furious, just like the woman asking them. Although all of them are expected, the last one still stings.

I’m seated on my sister’s emergency room bed. The doctor read us the results from the X-rays thirty minutes ago before they whisked Gabby away for a fitting. I’ve already updated our parents but had put off calling her best friend until last.

“She’s going to be fine,” I spit out, hoping to halt her barrage. “We were jogging on a trail, and she slipped on the rocks, twisting her ankle.”

The line goes silent for a second, and I check my cell reception. “Our training plan doesn’t list trail running for today.” Her strange reply has me questioning why I’m still on the phone. “This has your handiwork written all over it. I know you don’t want to see me. Now you’re working on keeping me from your sister.”

Rylee is smart. She doesn’t tolerate bullshit, nor does she waste time with pleasantries. For her, the shortest path is always a direct line. “Did you just check to see what Gabby had planned for the day? You two are one of a kind. And before you burn me in effigy, again, please know I would never keep Gabby away from anything that brings her joy. I take my big-brother duties seriously.”

A loud sigh whips across the line. I’ve successfully beaten back her objections for the moment. “If she’s fine, why isn’t she calling me?”

Like I said, Rylee isn’t much for small talk. “They’re looking at her ankle right now. Fitting her for a soft cast.”

“A cast? How is she going to be able to compete with that?”

“Wow.” I shake my head, knowing she can’t see me. “Please look away from your laptop for a second and listen to me.” My hand fists the sheet on the edge of the hospital bed. There is something about Rylee that causes this reaction, every word, every gesture from her striking a nerve. “She’s not going to be able to compete, and I don’t want you pressuring her or making her feel bad about it.”

The curtain rustles in front of me, and I scoot off the edge of the bed. Gabby’s protruded leg on a wheelchair pushes through as a nurse whips the curtain back.

“I’ve got to go. Gabby’s back,” I say into the phone as Gabby’s gaze catches mine.

A momentary flash of disappointment washes over her face as she spots the phone. “Is that Papi?”

I shake my head. “No. Little Miss Troublemaker.”

Rylee’s tinny voice springs through the phone. “I heard that. Let me speak to her.”

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