The Meeting Point by Olivia Lara

Eighty-Five

When we walk into Café Azure, nobody’s more surprised to see me than Celine.

“You got her back? You got her to change her mind?” she asks, in tears again.

“Not yet,” he says and winks.

Celine goes into the kitchen and I don’t even notice Melissa until Ethan shows me to a table by the window.

She gets up and reaches out across the table to hug me. My body is limp in her embrace.

“Ethan told me you weren’t feeling well. Are you a bit better now?”

I look over and Ethan, who nods, so I go with it.

“I am,” I say unconvincingly.

“I won’t keep you long. We can talk more tomorrow, after Ethan’s book launch.”

“Talk about what?”

She looks at Ethan and then at me. “Your manuscript,” she says. “I read it, and it’s absolutely brilliant. It’s beautiful and heartwarming and heartbreaking. And considering I have already read Ethan’s ten times and edited it before sending it to publishers, it still kept my attention all the way through. It is the same story, in a way, but in so many other ways, it is so different. They’re like the perfect halves of a perfect story,” she says and sounds excited.

I am nothing if not confused. “Sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Ethan?” she says, an eyebrow raised. “You didn’t tell her?”

“No, I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“That explains your reaction,” she says and laughs. “OK. I’m sure he’ll tell you more about it, but Ethan sent me your manuscript as soon as he finished reading it, about ten days ago. He said he stayed up all night after you gave it to him, and he couldn’t put it down. And I know why. I did the absolute same thing. He asked me if I would represent you and if I had editors in mind I could send this to and a plan for how to market it.”

“You read it that first night?” I ask him. Of all the things she’s telling me, that’s the one thing that stuck to me.

He nods. “I told you it was fabulous.”

“You also told me you’re a slow reader,” I say.

“Not this time,” he says with a smile.

“Not only do I have a list of editors, but I already pitched it, and both editors and scouts are dying to read it. I couldn’t send it without your approval, though, so I had to wait until we met. I also have the best plan for it. Think Eamon and Frankee. Justin and Selena. Taylor and Harry. Same story, two sides. This is going to be huge! And they’re both going to feed off each other, and Ethan’s book is already doing so incredibly well,” she says, turning to him. “Not that I had any doubts, of course.”

“So, that’s why you’re here?” I ask.

“To meet you, yes. And for Ethan’s launch, and because my husband wanted to visit California, so we packed up the kids, got on a plane and here we are,” she says, laughing again.

I like her. I liked her even when I hated her.

Husband. Kids. My manuscript. Ethan. Everything is spinning and spinning.

“And you want to represent me?” I ask.

“I would love to. If you want me to, of course.”

I look over at Ethan, and he’s all a smile. A grin.

“I do,” I say. “Thank you.”

“No. Thank you for this special love story. It’s just, ah, it melted my heart. Alright,” she says, “I have to go now, or else my husband will declare me missing. I will send you the contract via email tonight, so we can go over it tomorrow if you have any questions. I hope you both have a lovely night,” she says and leaves.

Is flabbergasted the right word for my state right now? Maybe. I don’t have any other.

I look at Ethan. He looks at me. I can hear my breathing; it’s that quiet between us.

“Thank you,” I say. “For that.”

“Nothing to thank me for. You deserve it and like you said, I kind of stole your story.”

I can’t even smile, I’m so shocked about this new development.

“We had a deal and I’ll keep my end of the bargain. I promised that once I finish reading the book—I didn’t say how many times though—if I believe you, I’ll tell you who Max is.”

I hold my breath.

“I finished reading your book for the fourth time this morning and I do believe you. It’s time for you to meet Max.”

I don’t want that anymore, I want to say, but the words don’t come out. Instead, I sit across from him, trying not to cry.

“I have something for you. Something that will explain everything I couldn’t,” he says and gives me two typed pieces of paper.

“What are these?”

“The missing pages from my novel. The ones I told you about the day we made the pact.”

I take them and my fingers tremble as I hold them.

“Once you read them, you will have the answers to all your questions—”

“Ethan, what does that mean?”

He leans down and kisses me on the top of my head, then leaves the café without a word.

June After Midnight

Chapter 28 (Draft 1 Version)

I’m sitting by the fire, holding a beer and looking out at the ocean. I know she will show up in a few minutes, but I do my best to stop staring in the direction of the path. I have to seem casual. Luckily, there are over twenty-five, maybe thirty people here and more come. People drink beer and wine, roast marshmallows, a woman brought two thermoses with hot cocoa. I believe some of them are tourists or new to the area, but still I know at least half of them, even if just by sight.

I chat with a few of them, nod to others, then continue sitting. And waiting.

It’s risky what I’m doing, and I know it. But I’m still here. I don’t know if I should continue this; it’s gone so well so far. She’s had a blast, a wonderful birthday she will surely remember. But she’s still leaving in a few hours. I’m not sure why I’m here. Just couldn’t stay away, I guess. Wanted to see her up close. I’ve been watching her all day, but from a distance. It would be nice to sit together—not together but almost—by this fire, to see her smile, maybe even laugh. I’m curious what her voice sounds like. I only heard it for a few seconds when we were doing the bike tour, but I was in such a state of panic that she’d discover me, I didn’t truly pay attention. I’m curious what color her eyes are. I really don’t know what I’m doing here. Will I tell her who I am? Will I just go over there and introduce myself?

She sits across from me, on the other side of the fire and right next to Remy.

As he’s singing, she lifts her eyes and looks at the fire.

I try to look away, look somewhere else, act busy or distracted, but I don’t. I can’t.

So I look too. And our eyes meet.

At first, I think she might be looking at the fire or right through me, but judging by that feeling in my stomach, she’s looking straight at me.

I hold her gaze. My God, she’s beautiful.

The woman with the thermos offers a cup of cocoa and Maya gladly takes it.

The staring contest is over. The moment is gone.

I’m almost on the street, when I see something in the sand, not far from where I am, in the spot where Maya and I sat earlier today, ate our snacks and drank our juices. Together but separate. It makes me sad thinking I missed the opportunity to get to know her better, to spend this day with her, not just watching her and watching out for her, but looking into her eyes and hearing her voice. I wish I had been braver, bolder. But it’s too late now for regrets.

At first, I think I’m imagining it. I walk closer, and yes, it is her. She fell asleep on the beach, her backpack next to her.

I approach as slowly as I can, afraid I might wake her up and then stand there looking at her, wondering what could’ve been had we met under different circumstances.

I take my hoodie off and cover her with it, then grab my pen—always with me—and the travel notebook from my pocket and write down quickly my hopeful thoughts for the beginning of our life together… before I bend down to put them in the hoodie’s pocket and kiss her hair. She smells so nice, like cherry blossoms in the spring. “I will see you soon. I hope…”

Maya moves a bit, and in a panic, I rush away from her and to my meeting point with David—I don’t want to call him her boyfriend, because I’m still holding on to the hope.