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F eedback blared from the large speakers outside the tents. “Welcome, everyone! Just ten minutes before the start of the Paddle Battle, so please make your way to your courts. Play starts in ten minutes!” Daniel York’s voice boomed from the microphone.

Endy’s eyes widened and she took a deep breath.

All the time and energy she’d put into planning and putting the fundraiser together was finally coming to a head.

She was proud of what she’d accomplished, regardless of whether they made their financial goal or not.

The fact was, she considered the crowd of people around her to be personal friends, and they had shown up to support her. Endy felt very fortunate.

“?Ay!” Maria burst out. “Don’t look!”

“Ugh, every time you say that, it means—” Endy stamped her foot then turned around with a grimace. “Hi, Sloane.”

“Hi, Endy,” said Sloane at the same time as she approached the table. “Sorry to crash your party but—”

“It’s not my party,” replied Endy, blinking slowly and shaking her head. “It’s the Paddle Battle fundraiser.”

“Right. Well, that’s why I’m here. I wanted to give you some advice.” Sloane pushed her sunglasses on top of her head.

“Puta,” hissed Maria from behind the table. “Just because you and your tennis program came in here with bags of money doesn’t mean that Endy needs any kind of advice from you.”

Sloane pursed her lips and raised one eyebrow at Maria. She lowered her sunglasses, then crooked her finger at Endy and stepped away from the registration table. “Endy, let’s talk over here, away from tu molesta hermana pequena. ”

Maria’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes narrowed. “No one except my cousins are allowed to call me their annoying little sister. ” She huffed and tossed her hair. “And you know what? Your accent sucks.”

Endy threw up her hands and followed Sloane. They stood in a sliver of shade from a palm tree.

Sloane pulled out her phone and began tapping. She glanced over her sunglasses at Endy and said, “I’m Venmo-ing my donation for Picklers to you.”

Endy’s eyebrows drew together. “Sloane, you don’t have to do that.”

Sloane tucked her phone into the pocket of her skirt. “I know, but I want to,” she replied, looking down. She waited a beat, then said softly, “I want you to take it as a type of apology. It’s my way of saying how sorry I am.”

“Sloane, what are you even talking about?”

“Endy,” started Sloane. She bit her lip. “I’m leaving Palm Springs for a little bit. Probably go up to LA and meet with more donors … maybe take some time to get my head straight.” She took a deep breath.

“I’m still not following,” said Endy, shaking her head in puzzlement.

“I’m not good at this, so please, just listen,” Sloane said, her voice slightly strained. She reached out and placed her hand on Endy’s arm. “I … am … sorry.”

Endy’s eyes widened. “Sloane …”

Sloane’s lower lip trembled, and she whispered, “Make him happy.”

“You mean Sebastian?” Endy asked, her eyes questioning.

“Of course I do.” Sloane nodded. “And the advice I wanted to give you? Go watch his games,” she said. “Pickleball seems to be very important to him.”

Endy stood with her mouth hanging open in shock as Sloane turned and walked away.

But then, Sloane doubled back, her fingers wiping the tears from under her sunglasses. “ You are very important to him,” she said as she wrapped Endy in a hug. “He chose you. He wants you .”