“You remembered my name!” There’s that familiar voice. Husky. Honey. I’m almost positive she’s JD. But then she speaks again. “And you’re . . . hold on, give me a second.” She cocks her head to one side. “Ethan?”

My stomach drops again. Either she’s not JD or she’s a sensational actor. Because she genuinely looks like she doesn’t remember my name.

“Eliot.”

“Right! Hey, did you ever make it to that concert? The one we talked about before?”

The one other time we ever spoke in person was about two months ago. She was on her way out of work and was wearing a T-shirt for a band, and we got to talking about their music. She mentioned they had a concert coming up, and I hadn’t been sure if she was suggesting we go together or not.

“Uh, nope. No.”

“Me either.” Her smile widens. “You look nice today.”

“Thanks.”

I might have spent a few minutes extra getting my hair right. I also might have broken out a new shirt I haven’t had a reason to wear yet.

But that was because I was pretty sure I was coming to see JD. But Mia . . . I gave her my phone number, right? I’m almost positive. But now that I’m here, looking right at her, I can’t remember whether or not she gave me hers.

In which case, she might not be in my phone, jumbled contact info or not.

I order my drink and step off to the side. I look out the window at the passing neighborhood, but I’m pretty sure I can feel her eyes on the back of my head. When she calls my name, I smile as I take my drink from her. And there, in pen on the side of the blue paper cup, is a phone number.

I’ll compare the numbers when I get home and can do it without an audience, but I already know that she’s not JD. Why would JD give me her number? She would clearly already know that I had it.

Unless this is all just an elaborate ruse to throw me off her trail?

I take one last look at her as I walk out of the coffee shop. She smiles at me and it’s flirtatious but not . . . knowing.

Odds are low that I’ve found JD.

I walk past the Thai restaurant on my way home but it won’t open until lunchtime. I know that the family who owns it lives in the apartment above it. Is the hostess who delivered my dinner JD?

Ten minutes later I’m sitting in my home office and looking at the black screen of my laptop. The second I turn it on, I will only allow myself to think about work. I’ll have to put JD in that Camaro again.