He stares ahead.

“Ethan, you don’t seem surprised. Why are you not surprised?”

I feel a chill all over my body. “Did you already know it was me?”

“How could I?” he asks, eyes on the road.

“If you knew, that makes you the worst friend in the history of mankind. I feel sorry for Max. And if you didn’t, you just used a random person who happened to have the same name as your character… for what? To sell more books? You asked me to go with you today, so they’d see us together. You kissed me in front of them to give them ‘material’. Are you kidding me? Who gives you the right? Isn’t it enough that you wrote my story without asking if I wanted it out there? I wrote it first and my manuscript will never see the light of day because of you.”

“I didn’t steal anything,” he says. “And who’s stopping you from submitting yours?”

“What’s the point? Who would want to read the same thing all over again?” I ask.

“There are always two sides to every story.”

“This is not even about my manuscript. And, yes, there are two sides to every story. Two, not three. Yours wasn’t one of them. It was mine and his. But that wasn’t enough for you, was it? You had to up it and drag me into this mess. Lie to me. Use me.”

“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing too, Maya? Using people? Celine, me?”

Tears roll down my cheeks. “Just tell me who he is. Have the decency to at least do that.”

“I don’t understand why you want to know who Max is. Why you keep insisting. If you hadn’t heard about my novel, you wouldn’t have returned to Carmel. You obviously didn’t come back for him, or you would’ve done it a long time ago, or better yet… never left in the first place. You’ve obviously moved on, if you ever even stopped. If that day even meant anything to you. Well, it meant something to him. A lot. Why do this and put him through it again?”

His nostrils are flaring, and I’m staring in shock at him. He’s so angry.

“I’m putting him through stuff? Look in the mirror. You are the reason photos of us kissing might be all over the media soon. I’m putting him through stuff? You have the nerve.”

“I know him better than you do. He’s moved on from you. He wouldn’t care.”

I feel tears pooling in my eyes.

“What is it that you want? Why are you even here? You want royalties too? I gave you publicity. Isn’t that what you were after? All you seem interested in is your writing. This should help. So why put on this ‘I’m a victim’ show? It’s not like anyone forced you to kiss me; you did it, and you did it on camera. What did you expect?” he asks.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.”