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I knew summer couldn’t last forever, that Reed and I were going to see each other regardless of how many miles we had between us, but that didn’t make today’s goodbye any easier to swallow.

Dad yelled from downstairs, “Eliza, you up?”

“Yep!” I called, stretching.

“I made breakfast and a fresh pot of coffee. Interested?”

“Coffee” is always the magic word. “Be right down!”

I threw on a pair of old denim cutoffs and my favorite Aaron Judge jersey before skipping down every other stair and stopping short when I got to the kitchen doorway.

Bagels, muffins, fresh fruit, and two steaming mugs of coffee covered the table in front of our bay window. With the morning light streaming in and catching the steam and bits of dust in the air, the room seemed dreamy, almost magical.

“Did Mom set this up before she went to the store?”

“Nope. This”—he gestured with open arms to the bounty—“was all me.”

I eyed him suspiciously as I plopped into a chair.

“Well, I set up the silverware.” He stabbed a couple of melon pieces and dropped them onto his plate. “And I did pick up the bagels and muffins.”

I laughed. “Thanks, Dad.” After careful consideration, I went with my favorite, an everything bagel smothered in cream cheese. Perfection.

He sat down and took a long drink of his coffee. “I spoke to Ms. Sparrow and her fiancée as they came out of the bank yesterday. Looks like they’ll get approved for the loan.”

“That’s great!” After our Sunday night final performance, Ms. Sparrow tearfully accepted our bouquet on the stage then surprised all of us with an announcement that she and Ms. Adams would be buying the Lyric and hoped to start the rebuild this fall. There wasn’t a dry eye in that amphitheater.

“Meeting up with Reed again today?” Dad asked.

I nodded. “At the stadium, I think.”

“He leaves soon, right?”

The bagel turned scratchy as it slid down my throat. “Tomorrow.”

Thanks for reminding me.

“Wow.” He picked up a muffin and unwrapped it. “Doesn’t feel like it’s been two and a half months since the start of the season. So much has changed.”

Understatement of the year.

“So I know you’re busy getting that application and essay for the UNC internship completed, but I was wondering if you’d help me out with a little…project.” He set his mug down, cupping his hands around it.

“What kind of project?” I popped a piece of cantaloupe in my mouth.

“We need to think of a new name for the stadium.”

“Shouldn’t that be the Fultons’ concern now?”

“Yes.” He paused and pursed his lips. “And ours.”

The fruit caught in my throat. “Wait. What do you mean—”

“I’ve agreed to co-own it with the Fultons.”

My fork clattered against my plate. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He smiled. “Truth is, it’s a hell of a lot of work for one person to run alone, especially when you have another business to keep up. Makes sense to have two people—or two families—run it.”