Jace sits up, holding out a curious hand for the phone.
“What does it do?” he asks. I scoop my shirt off the floor, draping it over my bare chest.
“We primarily use it to communicate in the human world,” I explain, shifting to sit on my knees.
“You communicate through this—this little box? What kindof magic is it?” He turns it over and upside down, studying it. I stifle a laugh at his adorable confusion.
“No magic. Just technology.”
His fingers slide over the screen, and he nearly drops it in surprise when it lights up. His eyes are full of wonder as he taps aimlessly. A gasp escapes him before turning the phone toward me.
“There are portraits. In your phone,” he sputters, dumbfounded. I can’t help laughing now as he shakes his head in disbelief.
“It’s a picture. It uses this thing called a camera to freeze moments in time—like a portrait. You’d be amazed at all this thing can do. It plays music, you can play games. You can even ask it questions, and it will pretty much tell you anything you want to know.”
“A magic mirror?” He glances up at me.
I gawk at him.
“What? You guys have magic mirrors here?”
He shrugs absently, staring at the photo, transfixed. “There were only a handful ever made, and they’ve been lost to time.”
“Here. You do this to see the next one.” I brush my finger over the touch screen, and a new photo appears. Jace mimics the motion.
“This is incredible. How do they all fit in here?” he breathes.
“It’s called the cloud. It backs up photos and files and messages.” Jace stares at me like I have three heads. “Never mind, it’s complicated.”
“This is you?” A photo of me from a year ago displays itself, and I nod. Jace glances from me to the image and back.
“You’re beautiful.”
My skin heats at the absent-minded compliment as he gazes at the screen and swipes again. Then he freezes, and the air around us grows cold. He slowly lifts his eyes to mine.
“What is this?”
He turns the phone to me, and my mouth falls open.
It’s a picture of Jack and me after a Yankees game. We got caught in a downpour on the way to the subway, and he pulled me to a stop outside the entrance. He said he just wanted to hold me in the rain. I told him he was crazy but risked the pneumonia to stand there with his arms around me. Then he reached into my back pocket, held up the phone, and snapped a photo of us—his smile wide as I stared up at him adoringly.
That’s the image Jace now holds up to me.
“Jace,” I start as he slides off the bed.
“Who is that?” he asks, eyes flashing.
“I told you that you reminded me of someone I used to know,” I say feebly.
“That’s an understatement!” he seethes. “You told me there was a resemblance, not that we share the same face!”
“I know it’s a shock, but despite the resemblance, you are not the same person. Not at all.”
“Oh, I know,” he growls. “Who is that? Because it sure as hell isn’t me.”
“His name is Jack. He was my boyfriend,” I rush to explain, watching him pace. “We were pretty serious. We almost got married.”
“But you didn’t?” He glances at me, golden eyes incredulous.
