She smiles, not an ounce of fatigue apparent in her cheery expression or sparkling blue eyes even though we just pulled a ten-hour shift. I pull her in for a bear hug. She saved my skin today when Mrs. Tokushige’s nephew called in sick. It was Mom’s day off, and I dreaded asking her to fill in at the last minute, even though I know she happily would have.

Penelope and I break apart, but she keeps hold of my arms. “Anytime you need an extra hand, call me. My schedule is flexible, and I love working here.”

I chuckle. “You’ve only done it once so far.”

“I know, but it was amazing. Seriously. I thrive in fast-paced environments.”

It’s true. Penelope was a natural, balancing orders, helping me with the food prep, and cleaning up like she’s been doing it for years. I don’t know if I’ve ever worked with anyone who caught on that quickly.

It’s been two days since upchucking my tea on the open road, and I’m on the path back to normal. No more annoying vloggers asking me invasive personal questions. They still show up, but to order the food and film themselves chowing down for their websites like they used to do.

“You were amazing on the live video,” Penelope says as we make our way to the front of the truck. “I know I’ve said that a million times, but I mean it. You were so bold to do it.”

“Yeah, but it didn’t really work out.” I wince at what a sad sack I sound like.

She stops in front of the driver’s side door. “Don’t say that. You put yourself out there. That took major balls.”

I smile softly at her phrasing.

“You ready to head home?” She opens the door.

I reach for the bag I packed under the front seat. “Actually, I think I want to go for a swim at Little Beach tonight.”

It’s been ages since I’ve seriously entertained the thought of swimming there. It used to be my go-to place to decompress when life and work got to be too much. But ever since the falling-out with Callum, I haven’t dared to set foot there. The thought of running into him sends me into near hives, even more so now that he has someone new and I could possibly see them together.

But it’s eight thirty on a weeknight in the middle of the summer, meaning the beach will be crowded. He probably won’t be there since he prefers early-morning swims. But if he is, it’s unlikely he would see me through the crowd.

“You sure?” Penelope asks.

“Positive.”

“But what if you run into . . . you know . . .” She frowns, her worry radiating all the way from her furrowed brow to her scrunched lips.