“Again with the ‘don’t worry’.”

“Yes, don’t worry,” he repeats.

“Is he on an island in the middle of the Pacific? Or in a non-English-speaking country?”

“Nice try. But you won’t get me to tell you anything. You’re not the first one to try. I’m a master at dodging Max-related questions.”

I groan.

“You know, there are a few things in my book that didn’t make it into the final draft. Things you should know… before meeting—”

“Max?”

He nods. “Maybe I’ll show them to you; these missing pages. Someday. After I read yours and if—”

“If you believe me. I know,” I interrupt.

“I wanted to say if I get to know the true you. And the true you is not someone who’s going to hurt him again.”

I smile. “Someone much wiser than me told me there are no guarantees in life.”

He nods absentmindedly. “So, is the real you the one who was yelling at me earlier or this one, right now?” he asks.

I shrug. “Both.”

“And the one who rolled her eyes during the musical?” he asks.

“You saw that?”

“Yeah. Not a fan?”

“Meh. It was OK,” I say.

“I won’t tell Cameron that. That show is his baby.”

“Let’s not talk about Cameron anymore.”

“OK.”

“And I’m also the one who spilled coffee on you,” I say a minute later.

“Oh, yeah.” He laughs.

“I also snort when I laugh really hard and I cry at romantic movies. I’m picky about what I eat, and I drink too much coffee. I have too many books on my to-be-read list, but I keep buying more and more.”

“That sounds familiar,” he says.

“Which part?”

“All of it. Except for the snorting.”

I smile. We both do.

Back at Café Azure, Celine asks me if I’m OK and I assure her I’m fine. ‘Great.’ While I don’t exactly feel great, I’m not sad or mad or upset either, quite unexpectedly.

The rest of the evening, Ethan and I interact a few times; mostly accidental looks or polite smiles. When we’re next to each other, we don’t talk much.

At night, we all walk home together and talk about what we’ll do for dinner.

“How about I keep my promise and cook something for us?” asks Celine. “And you guys are in charge of the movie.”

“Sure,” says Ethan. “Maya?”

I nod. “If you choose what we’re going to watch,” I say.

“Are you sure?” he asks jokingly. “I have pretty eclectic tastes.”

“I’ll risk it.”

Celine laughs. “You asked for it.”

We quickly decide on the ‘quickest spaghetti dish Celine can make’—all of us famished, none of us very fancy when it comes to food, it seems. Half an hour or so later, we’re sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying the most delicious chicken parmesan I’ve ever tasted.

Right before we start watching the movie, the landline rings and Celine asks me to pick up. It’s their mother. I know she calls them every couple of days, but it’s the first time I’ve spoken to her. She sounds like a lovely woman and we hit it off straight away.