“I would love to meet him,” I say.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

That’s a stupid answer. I guess I didn’t expect his question.

“When you know… let me know. I might introduce you to him.”

I’m so shocked; I don’t even try to hide it. “You would?”

“Why not?”

“What’s his name?” I ask. I’m on a roll. I got this.

“Max Meridian.”

Pfft. Come on. “Not in the book. In real life.”

“How do you know his name is Max Meridian in the book?”

OK. Twice in a row. I should put duct tape on my mouth. What now?

I look down. “I googled you. Last night.” Right.

“Aha. Did you find anything interesting?” The slight smile is back.

“I was just—”

“Yes?”

“Looking for details about your books. You know, writer’s curiosity.”

I feel bad about admitting I googled him. But, at the same time, this is the first bit of truth I’ve told him. So, in a way, it’s good to have something out there that’s not a complete fabrication.

“Don’t believe everything you read on the internet,” he says. “I think someone’s waiting for you,” he says and points at a man fidgeting at the counter and looking around. I nod and go behind the counter. From the corner of my eye I see Ethan putting his laptop in his backpack and leaving.

This conversation is not over. I was so close to finding out who Max is. And I will. I also need to read the book ASAP. I don’t like what I hear about the story. Because it’s a lie.

Forty-Two

It’s past nine at night. We’re still putting out orders every few minutes when Ethan walks in, with a sly smile on his face. He struts around like a peacock.

Celine, who’s usually a ball of energy, seems exhausted, and while I am too, I’m making an effort to be the one who lifts up her spirit.

“What are you so happy about?” she asks Ethan when he comes behind the counter. She’s not snappy per se, but there’s a hint of crankiness in her voice.

“Just had a good afternoon, that’s all,” he says. “Need help?” he asks.

“What do you think?” she asks.

“It looks like you’re doing great.” He snickers, pushing her down on a chair next to the coffee machine in the corner. “There, sit for a moment. You look like you’re about to faint.”

She doesn’t fight back, which confirms she is beyond tired.

Ethan snaps into action mode. “Any more food orders?” he asks, looking at his sister.

Celine shakes her head. “All done, just drinks. Tables 3, 8, 9, 12.”

He starts making the drinks and I hear him mumble, “Who drinks coffee at ten at night?”

Our interaction is silent. No words are being exchanged between us. He puts each order, together with the printed receipt, on a tray, I take them to the table and again and again.