“Keep in mind this is a work of fiction. I don’t know Delphy’s style, but he might’ve added or removed events or reinterpreted them. He wouldn’t be a writer otherwise,” she says. “OK, I’ll talk to you later.” She chuckles. “Hey, this feels like a secret mission.”

“Except that it isn’t. It’s my life,” I say bitterly.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s OK. I’m sorry. I’m still trying to process all this. I’m grateful, Alisa, for everything. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Don’t mention it. I’d love to help and get you two in front of each other.”

Eighteen

I grab my backpack and go downstairs, get into my beat-up Elantra. I’m holding my phone in one hand and propping myself on the wheel with the other; I just don’t know what to do. Should I drive to my mother’s and continue the search from there or stay here? If this Ethan guy lives in New York, like most writers I know, then perhaps it’s easier if I’m here too.

I google the author’s name on my phone and get a ton of links. He wrote and published three novels; this would be his fourth. The other three were love stories too. On Wikipedia, I see the first photo, not that I’m particularly interested in how he looks. It’s one of those ‘at your desk, act professional and writerly’ images. He has dark hair, cut short, a bushy dark beard, eyes of an undefined color, perhaps brown, behind the kind of glasses people wear for kicks—thick, dark frames, ‘intellectual’ written all over them. And to top it all, he’s wearing a black polo neck. He has a slight, lopsided smile.

I stare at the photo; this is the man who’s writing my story. He doesn’t look like he knows anything about love and the more I think about it, the more I get worked up. I never agreed to anyone sharing my day in Carmel with the world. Maybe I want to keep it all to myself. It’s a private thing. That’s why I didn’t send my manuscript out. Maybe. Never mind my reasons. The bottom line is that this is a beautiful yet painful matter of the heart. And it’s mine. Mine and Max’s. Definitely not Ethan Delphy’s.

I read on.

Ethan Delphy is an American novelist and screenwriter. He has published three novels and one non-fiction book, all of which have been New York Times bestsellers, with over 5 million copies sold worldwide in more than 25 languages.

Born: August 8, 1985 (age 33 years), Carmel by the Sea

Spouse: Isabella Delphy (m. 2014)

Books: Need No Words, Early Summer Dreams, A Million Minutes

Early life

Ethan Delphy was born to Tim Delphy, an investigative journalist, and Anne Marie Delphy (née Thoene), a baker and restaurateur. Ethan has a twin sister, Celine Delphy who runs the family business—an Art Nouveau café in the Bay Area.

Delphy is of French, English, and Irish ancestry.

He was raised in Carmel by the Sea where he was active in sports during school. He subsequently attended UCLA, graduating with an English major and then got an MFA in Creative Writing from UC Irvine.