26

My tiny apartment has never been so full of people. Noodles has claimed a spot on Michelle’s lap, snuggling against her adorable little baby bump as she points over Tory’s shoulder at something on her laptop. Walsh is in the kitchen refilling water glasses, Christina is sprawled in my armchair, flipping through a legal pad, and Barbara is sitting at the bistro table in my kitchen, entering notes into my PowerPoint presentation. Her phone rings, and she answers it.

Pressing my fists into my lower back, I arch my spine from where I’m sitting on the floor. In front of me, a notebook filled with highlighted scribbles fans across the coffee table next to two mostly empty pizza boxes. We’ve been at it for three hours, but I feel like we’ve barely scratched the surface of my idea. Panic threatens to claw up my throat, but I shove it down.

I got this. We got this.

Barbara pushes back from the kitchen table, chair legs screeching against linoleum, and stands. She hitches her tote bag over one shoulder. “I’ve got to run.”

I furrow my eyebrows at her harried expression. “Is everything okay?”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s Maya, my youngest. She was supposed to catch a ride home with another player after her volleyball game tonight, but she forgot to tell me that her ride was out sick so now I have to pick her up.”

Standing, I force the tension from my shoulders and give her a quick hug. “Thanks so much for your help.”

“No problem. This is what you have to look forward to with teenagers, by the way,” she adds to Tory and Michelle. “Enjoy those baby years while you can.”

“Oh, we will,” says Tory, gazing lovingly at her wife as she caresses her rounded tummy.

Barbara’s footsteps retreat from my apartment and the door closes with a click behind her.

“So, these numbers look good,” says Tory, returning her attention to her computer. “Especially if you propose piloting your program in the Galápagos, British Columbia, and Hawaii first, then scaling up over the course of two years.”

Christina flips her head upside down, and when she rights herself, gathers her long sheet of hair into a high ponytail. “This could be revolutionary, you know. There aren’t many other cruise companies our size doing anything like this.”

“Not to mention it has the potential to make a wide-scale impact. If even half of our travelers choose to contribute modest amounts, that can make a big difference,” Tory adds.

A knock reverberates from my front door. Frowning, I stride down the short hallway to answer it. It’s Barb.

“I forgot my phone,” she croons, squeezing past me to bustle into my kitchen.