“No, I’m good,” he says. “I have to make it myself. I have to earn it, you see, otherwise Celine will make me pay for it or throw me out.”

“Oh, yes, she’s pretty scary,” I say.

I hope he got the joke. Straight face. Nope, he didn’t get it. Awkward.

“If she sees you talking to me, you’ll get in trouble,” he says. “Relationships with the staff are strictly prohibited.”

My face is on fire. I feel embarrassed as if I’m doing something wrong.

“Just kidding,” he says.

Alright. We have a sense of humor mismatch here, ladies and gentlemen. That’ll be fun.

When we get back home, at the end of the night, Celine takes me aside.

“Can I ask you for a big favor?”

“Of course.”

“Could you possibly open the café tomorrow morning?”

“Sure. All good?”

“I need to go to San Francisco for a meeting.”

“Everything OK?”

“Yes. Of course. I won’t be long. Just a few hours.”

“No worries. I’ll make sure everything runs smoothly. Take your time.”

Forty-One

June 9

In the morning, my mother calls and I apologize a hundred times for missing our weekly Saturday call. I act in my most casual, relaxed, ‘vacationing’ kind of way, and don’t tell her I quit my job because I know she’ll worry. I also don’t bring up Max and except for an ‘any news?’ question, she doesn’t either. Instead, I focus the conversation on Carmel, and how pretty everything is here and what a good time I’m having.

“David keeps calling my cell,” she says.

“Just ignore him, Mom. Don’t answer.”

It’s funny. Now that she mentions it, I realize David didn’t call or text me yesterday. Good. Maybe he got the message.

“Is that man worth all of this, Maya?”

There. She brought him up.

“He is worth it,” I say firmly.

“When are you coming back?” she asks.

“Not for another week or so.”

I think. Maybe. I honestly don’t know anything right now.

I’m a couple of hours into my solo adventure at Café Azure, and besides the fact that Ethan just arrived, barely said two words to me and hasn’t even offered to help, it’s all good.

I pass by his table, juggling a tray of coffee cups, glasses of lemonade, and orange juice.

“Good morning. Can I get you anything?”

He’s writing something on a piece of paper and seems startled to hear my voice. He lifts his eyes to look at me and makes a jerky move with his arms, like he’s about to push his chair back or to get up. Or get further away from me. Surprised by his reaction, I jump to the side. I don’t know why I do that. I’m startled by him being startled and worried I might’ve gotten too much in his space. I honestly don’t know. It all happens so fast. What I do know is that a second later, all the glasses and cups on my tray come flying down. Broken glass everywhere, dripping coffee and sticky juice on the table. On his clothes. On his laptop.