This I should have known, but there is plenty I don’t know. And as Alex reminded me in the truck, there’s not much time to find out. I try to warm up with an easy question.

“You lived in New York, right?”

“I did,” he says.

“And now you live here?”

He looks at me impassively, his eyes having lost all traces of the spark I saw on the beach. Maybe he’s like Alex, worried I am some crazed fangirl on a quest to steal snippets of the final Orman book.

Maybe this will never work.

“I live here now, yes,” he says, but he’s waited too long. My mood starts to sink.

“Okay, different question,” I try. “Is the pen collection real? Everyone says you have a pen and journal collection, but you’ve never talked about it in any of the interviews I’ve read.”

God, that does sound too fangirl. But I feel a need to fill the silence, so I recalibrate quickly.

“Sorry, that was creepy,” I admit. “I can get that way sometimes. You’re not good with people and I’m not good at holding conversations, I guess.” I laugh awkwardly and trudge on through this marsh of one-sided dialogue. “Do you miss New York?”

Again, blank staring from him, a slow burning crossness from me. Where is his playfulness from earlier with the whales? Did I already manage to say something wrong or offensive? And even if I did, am I only given the one chance and then he shuts up like a clam holding on to the world’s most exquisite pearl?

Orman is wonderful and successful and all those things, but he doesn’t get to be a jerk or withhold information about my best friend.

One last chance.

“Nolan, are you going talk to me? About Jenna?”

Whales become extinct in the time it takes Nolan to fiddle with the rug and finally look up and say, “I thought we were talking.”

I stand up, restless.

“Is this how the day is going to go?” My voice is rising, as last night’s desperation comes creeping back and Nolan’s mask breaks enough to show a small amount of alarm. “Because this is useless,” I continue. “This isn’t helping you or me or anybody.”

“Helping?”

“Yes, helping,” I say. “I came because of Jenna … because of you, really. I mean…” I scoff in disbelief, gesturing between the two of us. “You met her and now I’m here and you won’t even talk to me. What did she say to you? What did you say to her? I know you talked, because who else would have told you I was persistent? Did she mention anything about sending me a copy of your book? Just say something.”