“Hudson.” Annika’s pulse beat a little bit faster. Memories of the night at the fountain resurfaced once more, like a nest of bugs you thought you’d gotten rid of but were hiding in a little hole in your house somewhere. She took a deep swallow of ice water. “Hudson Craft.”

“Right, right, Hudson.” There was a pause, as they both wandered around with their memories. The twinkling lights reflected like stars in the lenses of her dad’s glasses. “So, do you?”

“Do I what?” Annika wondered if she’d missed something because she’d been thinking about Hudson again.

“Have your eye on anyone new? Like June?”

No, and the last guy I tried to kiss practically ran away from me. Not very flattering. Annika waved a hand. “I’m too busy for all that.”

Her dad leaned back in his chair, the wicker creaking with the movement. “Really? Too busy? Do you think that’s ever going to change? You have to make the time.”

“Not everyone can be lucky enough to meet their soulmate at twenty-three, Dad. Besides, I’m happy how I am.”

Her dad patted her hand. “Of course you are,” he said, but she saw the concern in his eyes again.

Just for once, Annika wished she didn’t feel like she was letting her dad down on all fronts.

The next afternoon, Annika sat on the floor of her apartment in an old UCLA T-shirt and sweatpants, using tweezers to paint by stickers.

As organized as she liked to keep the office, her apartment was the exact opposite. It was the one place she didn’t have to worry about looking put-together or in control. Here, she could let her inner slob shine, and no one cared.

Dust mites floated in the sunlight that streamed from the glass doors to her right. The throw pillows were tossed on the floor, where Annika frequently sat. On the coffee table was a pile of books—business memoirs, tech start-up manuals, and, of course, romances. June’s cup of coffee rested next to a potted plant on her end table, which was really just a collection of twigs, the plant having died from overwatering many weeks ago. Sleepless in Seattle was playing on the TV, though neither she nor June were really watching; they had all the lines memorized anyway.

“That looks tedious,” June remarked from where she was sprawled on Annika’s navy-and-white-striped couch. She was wearing old shorts and a crop top, but somehow still looked as glamorous as an Old Hollywood starlet.

“Mm. It’s relaxing.” Annika carefully laid a slice of purple sticker on the lion’s nose.