I would love to write a story for her. Even more than that, I wish my stories were magical and words on paper would come true. I look around the café. This is the most significant part of her world. Maybe someone here then. I don’t see anyone worthy, though, but I’ll keep looking. She definitely has to have her own story.

“Putting the second batch of croissants in the oven. Keep an eye on the front of the house for me, please?” she says.

“Yes, boss,” I say and salute jokingly.

Since no new customers have come in for ten minutes, I grab my bag and pull out the notebook and the pen Ethan gifted me and start her story. I might not have a ‘him’ in mind for Celine just yet, but I have to start somewhere.

It’s funny. I haven’t found inspiration in anything in the last year—if we exclude my one day with Max—but now it’s like I got my mojo back. I feel like writing nonstop. I’m inspired by this place, the people, my experiences.

A couple of pages in, I hear the bell and I’m ready to close the notebook and serve a customer. I do a double take. And that feeling in my stomach, and my chest is back.

“Good morning,” I say, smiling and unable to stop myself from sounding peppy.

“You’re writing,” Ethan says, returning the smile.

I awkwardly point at the notebook and pen. “T—thank you again.”

“You’re welcome; glad they’re useful. Thanks for the manuscript,” he says and winks.

“Bored with it already?” I ask. I’m afraid my insecurities come through. It sounds like I’m fishing for compliments, but I’m not. I need reassurance, especially from someone like him.

“Not at all. I started it and I think it’s fabulous.”

I nod and smile.

“And I was planning to read more this morning, but—” he stops “—I changed my mind.”

“Why?”

He doesn’t respond, instead stares at me. I don’t know what it is about looking into Ethan’s eyes that makes me feel this tension between us. I swallow nervously.

“You said you want me to get to know the true you. Since I’m a slow reader, I thought we should try and speed up the ‘getting to know you’ process,” he says with a smile.

“Where should I start? A list of all my likes and dislikes? I could give you a résumé too,” I say and chuckle.

“Why not?” He laughs. “But no, I have something else in mind. If you’re up for it.”

I purse my lips. “It depends. Is it dangerous?”

He shakes his head.

“Embarrassing?”

He shrugs, then laughs. “No and no more questions. You’ll spoil it. In or out?”

I don’t like not knowing what comes next, but this time I’m tempted. “In.”

“Good,” he says and the mischievous smile on his face makes me question my decision. “What time can you leave? It has to be at or before four.”

“Four then,” I say caught in the moment. Then I reflect on it. “Wait, I have to talk to Celine first. See if it’s OK with her.”