“I hope it is,” she says and finally smiles.

I’m so excited for her. I hope they get past what happened and work everything out.

Lunchtime comes and goes and despite a super busy time that forces her to run around tirelessly for hours, she can’t wipe that smile off her face.

“I didn’t tell Ethan yet about my date,” she says, looking at the door as he comes in.

“Why?” I ask, talking to her but watching him.

“He and Aaron are friends and I don’t want to make it weird between them,” she says. “You know I haven’t properly dated in two years? I tried but they were all epic fails.” She scrunches up her nose. “Online dating,” she says and laughs, embarrassed.

“I’ve never tried it,” I say.

“You aren’t missing much; it might make good material for a book. An absurd comedy.”

Celine tells me she wants to leave the café early to get ready. I don’t blame her; I would do the same. If I knew, for instance, that I was about to meet Max, I think I’d take two full days to make sure every little detail was perfect.

“You can leave whenever you want. I’ll take care of everything,” I say, just as Ethan is coming over to get something to eat.

His phone rings, he answers, but I can’t tell much of what the conversation is about or who it’s with. I hear a name—Melissa—and then he’s all smiles and looking obviously excited.

“Good news?” asks Celine when he hangs up.

He smiles from ear to ear but doesn’t answer. A strange kind of smile. Mischievous.

“Come on. Tell us.”

He puts on an innocent face. “Not yet, but we’ll talk about it more tonight.”

Celine looks down. “I won’t be home tonight, sorry,” she says.

He glances my way and I make a face, as in: ‘Remember? We talked about it? THE date!’

“That’s fine, it’s cool. Tomorrow night then or the day after. No big deal.”

“Are you sure?” she asks.

“He’s sure. Besides, I’m home, if he can settle for the less interesting half of our duo.”

He laughs. “I’ll sacrifice myself.”

Celine’s face lights up. “I owe you for the next two decades,” she says into my ear.

I want to tell her Ethan knows and she shouldn’t hide it from him. Not only that he knows, but he made it possible. I want to, but this seems like a thing best handled between them.

Celine leaves in the afternoon and Ethan stops writing and helps me with the orders. He’s the one making most of the food and the drinks while I run the front of the house.

I make a good team with Celine and, as it turns out, an equally good team with Ethan.

“I think we’re doing OK,” he says proudly as the dinner service is almost over.

“We got lucky nobody asked for anything complicated,” I say.