All of a sudden, I wasn’t sure if I really wanted Gabe to confirm that he’d slept with her.

Still, I had to try. For the article.

“A very good friend, I’ve heard.”

Unfortunately for me, Gabe was saved by Madison’s impeccable timing and an extra glass of water he hadn’t ordered. He finished his beer and drank the water in one long gulp.

The puppy had fallen asleep under the table—I could see her through the glass tabletop. She’d rolled around a few times, trying to get comfortable, finally resting her chin on the top of Gabe’s right foot.

“Is she going with you to set?” I asked.

“Considering she’s in the movie, yes, she’ll be going with me to set,” Gabe said.

It took a moment before I realized that he thought I was still talking about Jacinda.

I pointed through the table. “I meant your dog,” I said.

He looked down, and his whole body, his whole face, relaxed.

“Yeah,” he said. “She’s going to be coming with me.”

“Is that why you got her?” I asked. “I’ve heard it can get pretty lonely, being on set, away from family and friends for months.”

“That’s part of it,” he said.

He stared down at his empty water glass as if it might refill itself.

I knew an opening when I saw it. “What’s the other part?” I asked.

He picked the puppy up and set her on his lap. She was still snoozing, with her head cradled in Gabe’s arm, her nose tucked into his elbow.

“I have this list,” he said. “Of things I’d do if I became successful. Getting a dog was one of them.”

He looked at me expectantly.

I looked back.

Because I’d heard about his list. Everyone had heard about his list. Every time he did an interview and it mentioned some new development in his life, it was usually connected back to the list. The seemingly endless list of Things Gabe Parker Will Do When He’s Successful.

The bookshop, of course, was always mentioned in this context.

There were all the trips he’d taken with his family—to Hawaii, to Bali, to Cape Town, to Paris (where everyone thought Momma Parker might have gotten a formal introduction to Jacinda Lockwood herself).

He’d bought his mom and sister cars. He’d put together a college fund for his niece.

I didn’t doubt that he had done all those things, but I also knew that it was very, very good publicity to talk about them. Personal, but not personal.

I also knew that he was expecting me to ask the same question everyone always asked—what else was on the list? And why wouldn’t he? I’d shown thus far that I was a thoroughly unoriginal interviewer.