Personal life

In 2013, while vacationing in Europe, he met his future wife, Isabella Andres of Madrid, Spain. Delphy and Andres were married on September 1, 2014. They live in Carmel by the Sea.

Career

Delphy began writing in his first year of college. He is said to base his stories on real events and his characters on real people. He calls his impressive circle of friends and acquaintances ‘an unending, ever-surprising source of inspiration’.

Published works

2012: Need No Words

2013: Early Summer Dreams

2014: A Million Minutes

(upcoming) 2019: June After Midnight

I hate the title. June After Midnight. It’s so irrelevant and bland.

And my plan to stay here because he might be here is obviously a bust. Wikipedia says he lives in Carmel. It makes me wonder if ‘Max’ lives in Carmel too. That would explain why he knew the town inside and out.

Carmel is a small town, maybe three thousand people. If I went there… how hard could it be to find a famous author? He probably stands in the town square with blinking lights on his head. “It’s me! The talented, successful, rich writer who steals other people’s stories!”

What am I saying? No, going there to find him would be crazy.

The more I think about the book, the more I get worked up, and all my anger is targeted at the writer. Who gave him the right to tell my story? Is he even a good writer? Did he do a good job? If it’s my story, our story, then I’m part of it. How could he possibly get right how I felt that day and what it meant to me? How that town and that man changed me forever?

I mumble to myself and notice a woman passing by who gives me a strange look.

“This is New York. I’m allowed to talk to myself in my car,” I say to her through the window.

I look again at the writer’s photo. So stuck up.

“His impressive circle of friends,” I mumble. “Who says that?”

He should’ve asked for my permission. I’m a journalist; I know how this works. One source of information is not enough, and it doesn’t make a story. You need to have at least two. He should’ve contacted me and asked me about it, and I would’ve gotten the chance to tell him, ‘NO. No, you can’t write about my life’.

So frustrating that he knows what I don’t. He knows what happened. Why Max didn’t show up. Why he broke my heart. What happened to him after. I punch the wheel. I don’t care how many books he wrote and how many millions he sold. This is not his story to tell. It’s mine. And I wrote it. I hate this guy!

Nineteen

I find his social media profiles. All with the same photo, all of them just promoting his books. No email address listed anywhere, no nothing.

Then articles in newspapers and magazines. Most of them talk about his books, have reviews or news. People Magazine, Huffington Post, Chicago Tribune. None of the articles are recent. The latest one is from early 2016 from what I can tell. He’s mentioned in passing. There’s a photo that basically everyone republished of him and an attractive young woman. Arm in arm at an awards ceremony. The caption says, “Ethan and Isabella Delphy, March 2016.” She’s grinning; he’s again sort-of-smiling. Or maybe that’s how he smiles.