“I guess we’ll see what happens,” I say.

“Whatever happens, the decision should be yours. Stay, if you want to stay and go if you want to go. But don’t stay and definitely don’t go because of someone else,” he says, and I suspect we’re both thinking about the same thing. What happens if Max got over his feelings for me? Old me wouldn’t hesitate to pack and go back to the East Coast if that’s the case. The new me, I hope will at least hesitate. Which would be huge progress.

I smile, but don’t say anything. It would be too much to explain, and I don’t want to overthink now. I just want to enjoy myself and the views, the music, the weather, this afternoon. Everything is too perfect for me to spoil it with my overanalyzing!

“We’re almost there,” he says.

“I thought the drive was the whole thing,” I say. “It’s incredible, by the way!”

“It is the whole thing,” he says. “We just have a couple of stops along the way.”

I don’t ask for details; he won’t tell me anyway. I’m just excited to see what’s next.

A few minutes later we stop on the side of the road, Ethan gets out and I follow. “Here it is,” he says, leading the way to where the pavement ends on the right side.

“Look,” he says, pointing down.

My jaw drops. Below us is an idyllic cove with turquoise waters and perfectly white sand and the tiniest of waterfalls, as thin as a thread.

“Wow! This is beautiful.”

He looks at me for a moment, as if wanting to say something, then turns to the waterfall.

“Yes, yes, it is,” he finally says.

I feel a fluttering in my stomach, and I have the strangest of sensations for a moment.

Ethan brings a blanket from the car, puts it on the ground and we sit, nobody around, watching the waves crashing on the shore and that dreamlike waterfall. So peaceful.

“Alright,” he says after a while. “We should get going or else we’re going to be late.”

“Let’s go,” I say, not without feeling a small regret we have to leave this place.

He turns the car around and I feel disappointed. I thought we had one more stop. I don’t want this to be over; I’m enjoying this unexpected adventure too much. But I don’t want to say anything because I don’t want to seem ungrateful. He said he doesn’t want to be late, so maybe he has plans back in Carmel. Why not, right? It’s totally possible.

We drive for about fifteen minutes when Ethan turns left on a country road, then right and then takes a sharp left, pulls over and tells me we’ve reached the last stop.

“I thought we’re going back to Carmel,” I say, this time admitting what I’d been feeling.

“That’s why you were so quiet?” he asks, smiling.

I shrug. How easy I am to read.

He opens the car door for me and we take a set of stairs until we’re on what looks like a terrace. To my left, the mountains and to my right, the ocean.