“I’m beat,” I said. “Have to get some sleep. Long day tomorrow.”

“Another impromptu adventure?” she asked sarcastically.

“I doubt it. I think it was a one-time thing.”

“As if. Either way, there can’t be that many adventures left. He’s leaving in a few days.”

Her words fall like rocks on my head. It was as if I had put that part out of mind. But the reality is that, yes, there are only a few days left. I wish she hadn’t reminded me just yet.

In the morning, we all get up at the same time, which is unusual. And as Celine and I are leaving, Ethan comes with us.

Celine doesn’t act surprised, so I follow suit.

Ethan and I don’t talk much on the way there, but from time to time we look in each other’s direction and when our eyes meet, we both smile. Celine seems oblivious.

He helps us open up the café and then goes to his table and I see him taking out my manuscript and reading.

An hour passes. Two. He’s still reading. He takes a break for a while and writes or edits his latest book. After lunch, he takes out the manuscript again.

I found things to do around his table way too many times today, but every time I got close to him, it’s as if he had eyes in the back of his head. He’d turn the page on its back, and I couldn’t see where he was and he keeps putting the pages he finishes back under the manuscript.

It’s early in the afternoon and there’s no line; the dishes are washed. Celine is out back on the bench, taking a break. I’ve tried to write some more of her story but haven’t been able to focus. I tried everything I could to keep my mind off Ethan reading my work. Everything.

“I see you prefer to get to know the quiet version of me,” I say, pointing at the manuscript.

He looks up. “I didn’t know if the talking version could stomach me two days in a row.”

“Wasn’t that bad, was it?” I giggle. What’s next, batting my eyelashes? What’s wrong with me?

“Not for me,” he says.

Celine comes from the kitchen and I walk away from Ethan’s table and as I do, I see a blond guy, sitting at one of the tables outside.

Sixty-Six

I immediately recognize him: Aaron. How could I not? For a few days, I was convinced he was Max. But that’s not what drew my eyes to him this time. It was the way Celine reacted when she saw him. She suddenly stopped and kept staring at him.

I walk over to the counter, watching her. She keeps herself busy, but from time to time, glances his way. Sometimes customers sit outside waiting for us to bring them the menu. I look over and don’t see anything on his table. Celine must’ve noticed that too. Why is she not going?