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A few minutes later, we pull up to the cat-sitter’s house in Sausalito, a few miles away from where I lived recently with Fuck Chad .

I’ll need to get my things from his place and have someone bring my things from the hotel in Lucky Falls, but I’ll figure that out later.

For now, I retrieve a pink crate containing a tiny orange kitten who meows excitedly at the sight of me, as if saying, I did good, didn’t I?

I scratch under his chin. “Yes, you did, little guy. Thank you for looking out for me.”

When I’m back in Rhonda’s car, with Furby tucked safely onto the backseat, she asks, “Where to next?”

I’ve already texted Isla and Leighton to see if they can meet me. Because what does a runaway bride need most? Her friends.

“High Kick Coffee.” I give Rhonda directions to Leighton’s favorite coffee shop.

Of course, the owner happens to be Tyler’s grandmother.

But the man who left me a heartfelt note after I drunkenly threw myself at him won’t be there today because he’s golfing.

I never thought I’d say this but thank god for little white balls.

I’m not sure I could face Tyler yet, even though I’ve already decided I’ll keep that note forever.

Facing him at Luna’s next skating lesson? That’s future Sabrina’s problem .

As we drive toward the coffee shop, I share more of my epic spiral with Rhonda, including my current state of homelessness.

She listens, then dives right into problem solving.

“I’ve got a friend who owns a vegetarian hot dog place called Garlic Crush.

She’s got a little micro-studio above it.

She’s been thinking of renting it as an Airbnb but hasn’t listed it yet. I could ask her.”

Rhonda’s offer feels like a lifeline, but it’s also a reminder of how far I’ve fallen.

A hot dog place and garlic fumes aren’t exactly my dream.

But then again, when your life’s a pile of ashes, you can’t be picky about where you start rebuilding.

Besides, I know exactly what rent looks like in San Francisco—way out of my league.

But my business is here, and I need to be close to potential clients.

I force myself to smile. “I’d appreciate it if you could ask her.”

“Count on it.” Rhonda beams.

“Are you a fairy godmother?”

Rhonda shakes her head kindly. “Nah. I’m just someone in the right place at the right time to help.”

When we reach the coffee shop, I ask how much for the ride.

“Free for you,” she says with a smile.

“Rhonda, you need to make a living.”

“Sabrina, I need to do nice things for other women too. This is how we help each other.”

I smile, feeling warm and fuzzy. Women helping women. I like that. “Thank you.”

She waves me off with a dismissive, “Don’t worry about it.”

But I’m crafty. Once I get out of the car, I find her on Venmo, send her a tip, and include a GIF of a rainbow-shooting cat .

Because sometimes, the smallest gestures can say the most.

“Shhh,” I whisper to Furby as he meows from under the table I’m sharing with Leighton and Isla at High Kick Coffee.

But Furby isn’t having it. He lets out another dramatic little mewl.

“Maybe meeting here wasn’t the best idea,” I admit, trying to hush the kitten in the pink crate beneath me. I’m not sure if he’s annoyed. Mostly, he’s just chatty.

“He’s fine,” Leighton says with a wave of her hand. “Birdie doesn’t mind animals, as long as they steer clear of her espresso machine.” Birdie’s the shop owner, and Leighton knows her well since she’s her boyfriend’s grandma. “Her exact words.”

“That’s fair,” Isla says, thoughtfully brushing a strand of chestnut hair off the fair skin of her cheek and tucking it behind her ear. “Do you know how hard it is to get fur out of an espresso machine?”

I blink at her. “I don’t, actually. Do you?”

“Very hard,” she says with the confidence of someone who always has an answer. Well, she’s not the city’s best matchmaker for nothing. “But let’s talk about your situation.”

Leighton turns to me, she’s all business. Fiercely independent, Leighton knows a thing or two about surviving in this city. “All right. I have some ideas for you while you figure out if the garlic lifestyle is for you. And the place I have in mind is pet-friendly.”

“That’s key,” I say. Even though I’m only responsible for Furby for a few more weeks, I promised the rescue to give him a place to stay until he’s ready to be adopted.

Isla doesn’t miss a beat. She pulls out her iPad and begins tapping. “Let’s start a project planner for you. We’ll list options and figure out what makes the most sense.”

Leighton nods to Isla and asks me, “How lucky are we to have the world’s most organized person as a friend?”

“The luckiest,” I reply, grinning.

Isla brightens, radiating Disney-princess energy. She could summon chipmunks to alphabetize a forest. “We’re all the lucky ones,” she says.

“We are,” Leighton seconds then adds casually, “you can always stay with Miles and me.”

I’m floored. Leighton’s generous, of course.

Caring and supportive. But I’m not used to offers like that, even from friends.

But it’s very her, something I’ve learned since we met several months ago and became fast friends.

She’s a photographer and snapped photos for my new coaching business when I finished my run with Glacé earlier this year.

I’d loved ice skating in the Cirque du Soleil-esque show during the months it was here in the city.

There aren’t that many professional opportunities for ice skaters, as my father reminds me far too much.

But I push him out of my mind and focus on Leighton. Before I can answer her, though, Josie, Everly, and Maeve sweep into the café, turning our little meeting into a full-blown girl-gang intervention. I quickly run down my current crisis for the new arrivals, and then the offers start flying.

“You can stay with Wes and me,” Josie says cheerfully, readjusting her loose bun.

“Asher and I have space,” Maeve adds, since my new artist friend is always happy to help.

“Same here for Max and me,” Everly chimes in with her efficient spirit. “The only caveat is I’m not sure Athena’s great with other cats.”

I’m speechless. Truly, I didn’t expect this.

The outpouring of support from these women—women I’ve only grown close to since meeting last fall—hits me hard.

I haven’t had these types of friendships before.

Not like this. Maybe because I’ve been so itinerant since graduating from college, bouncing from ice-skating show to ice-skating show, from cruise ships to occasional residencies.

But now, settled into the city for the past several months, I’ve become part of this group of friends, and it’s such a gift to be one of the circle.

At the same time, I feel terrible taking them up on their offers.

They’re all cozily paired up with hockey players, and I’m over-the-moon for them.

But I’m not sure I’m ready to face all these happily-ever-afters when mine was torpedoed yesterday.

It’s like peeking into a world I don’t quite belong to yet.

“I can’t thank you all enough,” I manage, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I’m honestly touched.”

“I’ve been there,” Leighton says sympathetically; she bounced around a lot last year, trying to make it on her own.

“Me too,” Josie adds. She lost a place right after she moved to town.

Isla leans in with a gentle smile. “My place is always open as well. It’s small—a studio. But the couch is excellent for napping, so it must be good for sleeping.”

Maeve clears her throat. “Which is a bonus, you know. Not all couches can go the distance and be good for night sleeping.”

“That’s very true,” Josie says thoughtfully. She’s the curious one, I’ve learned quickly. “I wonder if anyone’s ever done a study on that.”

Even though I don’t know exactly when the garlic place will be ready—or if it ever will—I do need someplace to stay immediately.

I turn to Isla, the only other single woman in the group. “I’d love to stay with you, Isla. You’re the closest to the rink. ”

“Perfect.” She beams. “My couch has been waiting for someone to break it in.”

I laugh. Just one last thing. I lift my hand and wiggle the engagement ring still on my finger.

It’s not a tiny rock. “Now, where’s the best place to sell this thing?

I need the cash to keep my business afloat for a few months.

” I feel nefarious in the best of ways. But I’m the woman who marched down the aisle to a cheating voicemail, so it seems on brand.

“Let’s add that to the planner.” Isla is already typing, then hitting search. We pore over options and make an appointment for an hour later at a diamond merchant. No time like the present.

That afternoon, I ditch my ring for a cool five figures, field a call from Rhonda—her friend Starla is happy to rent her micro-studio to me this summer (emphasis on micro )—and then check in with my clients to let them know their regular lessons are back on if they want them. I might as well get back to work.

Later, I send Rhonda a thank-you gift: a brand-new cat sweatshirt, a nail salon gift certificate, and some of Birdie’s toffee brownies.

At least this hot mess still knows how to get things done.

The next day, I pack up Furby and move into Starla’s “micro-studio” above the garlic hot dog place.

She might have been overselling it by calling it micro.

It’s more like a walk-in closet. There’s not even a shower—just a sink and a toilet—but I can shower at the gym.

I’m an athlete. I’ve been doing it my whole life.

I retrieve my things from Fuck Chad’s while he’s not home, store them at Leighton’s, and then spend the night with Furby on a futon that smells like the strongest spice.

At least it’s mine for now, and that’s what I need.

There’s one more piece of unfinished business. I’ll have to face Tyler Falcon again at Luna’s skating lesson. And I’m not sure I’m ready to see the gentleman who kindly turned me down on my wedding night.

How do you face the man who left you ibuprofen and a tiara after you came on to him like a dog comes onto a bone?

But I know this much—I absolutely have to grab a minute alone with the man I propositioned.

I just hope that when I do, I don’t stink like garlic.