“You’re wrong,” I say.

He shrugs. “Sure. If you say so.”

I take a deep breath. “You’re not going to tell me his name, are you?”

“I’m still waiting for the answer to my question. If I tell you or not, it’s up to you.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“The truth.”

“I already told you the truth. I want to explain.”

Ethan puts his hands in his jeans’ pockets. “If all you want to do is explain why you left, you’re wasting your time. And mine. How will that help? You broke his heart once and I think you’ll do it again. Nothing has changed. The only difference is that a year has passed.”

“You’re only saying this because you don’t know me,” I say, feeling hurt.

He sighs. There is hurt in his eyes and sadness. Alisa is just as protective over me, like he is with Max. This side of Ethan, just like his strong feelings for Celine, erases some of his negatives. He’s not a bad man. He’s a caring friend, a protective brother, a talented writer, has a quirky sense of humor and he cleans up nicely. And he’s an excellent kisser. I can’t believe I thought about that now, of all times. What’s wrong with me? Something’s definitely wrong.

“Maybe you’re right, although I doubt it. I think I know you.”

“How could you possibly know me? You haven’t even tried to get to know the real me. You never gave me a chance. You think you have me all figured out, but you don’t.” I’m all out of ideas. “How about this? A pact. A temporary truce of some sort.”

“I thought you hated me. Why would you want to make a pact with me?” he asks.

“That’s how much that day means to me. I’m willing to do whatever it takes and because I think that once you get to know me, the real me, you’ll feel better about my relationship with him. So, whether I hate you or not is irrelevant—”

“So you do hate me,” he says with a straight face.

“Yes!” I say. “Are you happy now?”

“Ecstatic. So, what’s the pact?”

I open my mouth to say the words, but I can’t. The magnitude of what I’m about to do hits me. Can I go through with this? Nothing terrifies me more than sharing my work with someone. Sharing my work with a bestselling author is excruciating. But I have to do it so I can find Max. I don’t know what else would convince Ethan of what’s in my heart.

“I’ll let you read—” I stop. I’m about to hyperventilate.

“Yes?” he asks and I’m already feeling a tinge of mockery in his tone.

Deep breaths, Maya. You can do this. “My manuscript. You said you don’t know what my intentions are, and you don’t believe I’m telling the truth about that day and what I felt. Read it and you’ll know the truth.”