I’m too restless to sit around this room, so I get dressed and head downstairs to the hotel’s restaurant. Vending machine snacks aside, I’ve barely eaten all day, and it’d be good for me to get some real food. I didn’t realize it until now, but I’m hungry. The restaurant’s vibe mimics the beachy decor from upstairs: the upholstery on the chairs looks speckled like sand, and nautical bits and bobs like buoys and fishing net hang from the driftwood bar.

“Just one?” the hostess asks.

“Just me,” I say, pretending to be cheery and fine about that.

She scans the crowded room.

“So, it’ll be about fifteen or twenty minutes for a table for one, but I could seat you now at the bar, if you’d like,” she offers.

“The bar’s fine,” I say.

There aren’t many free bar stools, either, though I see one crammed between two larger men, and another… Oh. Next to Jasmine. I move toward the seat between the two men, but she sees me before I can sit down. For a split second, neither of us says anything.

“Hey!” she says, waving me over.

“Will that seat work?” the hostess asks.

Jasmine is watching expectantly.

“It’s fine, thank you,” I tell the hostess.

I wedge myself into the seat on Jasmine’s right. She’s dressed for TV: gleaming lipstick, sleek blowout, lemon-yellow shift dress. There’s a glass of white wine and a leafy green salad in front of her.

“I wondered if I’d bump into you,” she says, giving me an air-kiss by my cheek.

“Good to see you,” I say, even though the prospect of a conversation with her makes me anxious.

The bartender slides a menu my way, and I order a glass of wine as quickly as I can.

“Plus, uh, whatever salad she’s having,” I add.

“It’s delicious,” Jasmine gushes.

She would grow up to be the kind of woman who raves about lettuce.

“It was so interesting to watch Hallie compete today,” she says. “You know, knowing you coach her now.”

“ ‘Interesting’?” I echo.

That sounds like a euphemism for bad.

“I loved her new floor routine,” Jasmine insists. “I made a note of it on-air, even—I was talking about how you choreographed it yourself, and how excited I was to see Hallie compete it for the first time today.”

“Oh,” I say, surprised. “That’s actually very nice of you. Thank you.”

“I’m sure she would’ve liked to do a little bit better in the rankings today,” Jasmine says. “But, hey, you know I always love to root for the underdog.”

She winks, as if there’s a camera waiting somewhere to catch her reaction. There’s not.

“She’s a good, hard worker. I think she’ll bounce back just fine,” I say.

“She’s not tough to discipline?” Jasmine asks.