“Yes, sure,” I say and walk out of the café and into the sun. I’m shivering, although it’s eighty degrees out. This coldness is coming from inside. It’s panic. And not panic that I will finally meet Max. It’s the panic that when meeting Max, I will lose Ethan.

Eighty-Two

I’ve been back at Café Azure for about an hour when my phone beeps. A text from Ethan.

Can we meet at Mission Ranch? 9 PM? There’s someone I want you to meet!

I’m about to meet Max. This is really happening. Can the choice of restaurant be more obvious? It’s where I had dinner last year in Carmel. Yet, I hesitate before I reply, Of course.

I walk to the cottage as fast as I can, get ready for my date with him—I can call it a date, can’t I? I put on the long, black dress Alisa gifted me for Christmas and black stilettos. I do my hair and put on makeup. The works. I do it all like a robot, not stopping to think for a second.

I’m ready. Am I ready? I take a deep breath, then another and another. And minutes pass. I can’t back off now, although every fiber of my body is telling me I should. But why? This is the reason I came to Carmel. This is what I’ve been dreaming of for a year. I have to do this. I owe it to myself to meet him and I owe it to him.

When I arrive, the hostess says my party isn’t here yet and invites me to follow her.

I missed this place and after reading Ethan’s book and seeing it from Max’s perspective, it has even more meaning. He was here, somewhere, and now, he will be here with me, at the same table. I try to picture his face like I have done so many times, but Ethan’s face is all I see. I close my eyes, forcing the image out. I am here to meet Max. Max, not Ethan.

I focus instead on how I look and what he’s going to see. I arrange my dress a few times, push back a strand of hair, look in my small mirror, making sure I don’t have any lipstick on my teeth or anything. I look good. I’m ready; I have to be.

I hear Ethan’s voice and turn. I was wrong; I’m not ready. Not for this. Who is she?

Next to Ethan is a beautiful woman whose outfit makes my dress look like I bought it from Zara for $24.99. Her hair is perfect, her skin is flawless, her makeup impeccable, just like that flowy summer dress that screams ‘I’m not even trying’. Of course she’s not. She doesn’t have to.

I get up, not knowing how to react.

He smiles and wants to say something, but the woman, without waiting for any introductions or anything, jumps at me and hugs me.

“Maya, so nice to meet you. Ethan told me so much about you,” she says, a huge smile on her face. Yes, her teeth are perfect too.