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“So maybe you want to reconsider,” Marta says even though I never answered her question. “There’s a lot of work between graduating from Shafer and being hired as a research chef, but it’s worthwhile if it’s the first career you’ve felt passionate about. In the meantime, consider your other options.”

“Which options?”

“Well, that’s for you to answer, but you’re running out of time. And if grad school is in your future, you need to decide on that right away.”

I walk out of her office feeling dazed. Just when I thought I was starting all over, I find out I’m further along than I realized. All that work I did to bring up my grade and learn about the path ahead of me wasn’t for nothing. And for the first time, I understand what motivation feels like.

Lorenzo and I are meeting for breakfast, so I walk into town, surprised to find I’m at the café before him. I grab us a table and order an iced coffee, which melts into brown water as I wait and check my phone, my stomach rumbling. It’s rare Lorenzo is late. I fan myself with the plastic menu, regretting my choice to sit outside on such a humid morning.

Then there he is, walking up the sidewalk with a subdued smile on his face. When he reaches the table, he bends down to kiss me, then sits down.

“You’re smiling,” I say, handing him a menu. “Something going on?”

“Maybe, but I want to hear what you’re smiling about first.”

“I’m smiling?”

He looks at my knee, which is jostling at a frenetic pace. “That and you’re buzzing so hard the table’s shaking. Spill.”

I can’t resist. “Okay, I saw my advisor this morning, and I actually think I want to stick with this research chef thing. Even if my parents aren’t into it, turns out I am.”

He doesn’t look as surprised as I expected. “Yes, Ruby. I love that. So you’re doing it?”

“I think so. My advisor wants a final decision, and I think I’m ready. It’s just the idea of shutting the door on other options that scares me. Because if I change my mind and end up needinggrad school, I’m way behind.” My phone buzzes on the table, but I ignore it.

“You never wanted to go to grad school anyway.”

“I know, but it’s so final.”

“It doesn’t have to be forever. Go for what you want, Hayes. If it doesn’t work out, your life won’t be over.”

Dread suddenly replaces the hope in my chest. “It’s not just the job itself. I still don’t know how much choice I’ll have in where I end up after graduation. Culinary school, restaurant experience, R and D experience, and only then would I actually get hired as a research chef god knows where. That’s a lot of potential moves.”

He nods confidently. “We would make it work. No matter what.”

I lean forward to slide my hand up his knee. “But at least we’re finally on the same page: no clue what the next year is going to look like, a thousand questions up in the air.” Nervous energy swirls inside me.

“Actually.” He squeezes my hand. “Nine hundred and ninety-nine. I just came from Dr. H’s office.”

“I thought that appointment was this afternoon,” I say, full of anticipation.

“They switched it.”

My phone buzzes with another text, but I barely notice. “And?” I demand.

“And Halpert should write poetry. He told me I’m an extraordinary healer and remarkably resilient.”

“Romantic.”

“It got my heart fluttering.”

“So does that mean you’ll definitely play part of your season?”

“I don’t think Halpert makes a habit of using the worddefinitely, but he said a week nine start isn’t out of the question.”His brows pull together, a look that says he’s trying not to be hopeful, but maybe I can do it for him.

I breathe in, letting hope fill me up, and nod. “If anyone can do it ...”

I catch the way his eyes light up before he quickly drops his gaze to his menu. If he’d let himself, I really think Lorenzo could be an optimist. “And he said if things continue at this pace, I’ll have months of working out at full strength before the Combine.”