I don’t wait to hear the rest. We can sort out questions of my mother’s resurrection and everything else later.
“Clarissa!” I call as I run down the hall. April’s wandered off to do something officially SPAMmy—maybe to see if any of the agents who worked above my ceiling hole were transported to another dimension—but Clarissa’s head pops out of an open office door. “Where are my clothes?”
My clothes were taken for analysis, apparently, though Clarissa can’t say what they’re being analyzed for. God only knows what residue is on them after years of time travel and whatever may have been present when I passed through the machine. I did say I was going to burn them, so it’s no great loss, aside from wasting time I could use to find Jasper instead of trying to find a fresh set of something other than a hospital gown.
My phone has also disappeared, so Clarissa calls me a ride. Driving to Wench feels absurdly normal, but the driver has barely come to a stop before I’m stumbling out onto the street and through the diner’s front door. Vee gave me the keys. The inside is dark, like everyone has gone home.
“Jasper?” I shout. My gaze is on the kitchen door, and my heart is already halfway down the stairs. I dread the thought of finding Jasper dead on the floor. This can’t be it. We can’t be over.
A flash of green catches my attention on a table in one of the booths by the wall. Jasper’s toque. Beside it, his feet stick out, motionless on one of the benches.
No.
“You’re late.”
I trip over my feet as a dry voice comes deeper inside the booth. Then Jasper sits up, bracing between the table and the wall. His hair is askew and the buttons of his flannel are undone, but I don’t care. I practically sprint across the room and throw myself at him.
“You’re here,” I say. “You’re here. Are you okay? Are you?—”
“I’m fine. I’m fine. Morgan. It’s okay.” He doesn’t fight when I push up his T-shirt and inspect every inch of his chest. No sign of bleeding. No pain when I press my hands to his skin. He tangles his fingers in my hair to hold me in place while he kisses me long and hard. “I’m okay,” he says.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Don’t know. I don’t remember a lot. Vee left. I was cold. So cold. But there was this flash, and when it cleared, I was sitting here.”
I laugh, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “The day reset? Just for you? How?”
His grin is perfectly uneven. I love him so much. “You’re asking me? You’re the scientist, Morgan. I’m only a lowly henchman.” His stomach growls, and he flushes. “Sorry. I’m still hungry. I’m always hungry here.”
That requires more kisses. “You’re way more than a henchman. Partners. That’s what we said.”
“What happened?” he asks, gasping against my onslaught. “With Ezekiel?”
“My mother,” I say. “She stayed. After the flash, she was still there.”
I tell him what I know about Mother, which isn’t much. About Ezekiel, which is more.
“You’re okay?” he asks.
“Mostly.” I wriggle my fingers. “Aside from the fact I have no idea what day it is. Or how my mother is back. And I may or may not be sharing my body with a supervillain.” One of my feet is falling asleep, and I regretfully crawl back so I can sit across from him. I take the opportunity to groan as I bang my forehead on the table. “Guess I’m back to working for SPAM again. There’s no way April’s letting me out in public until we know exactly what the Ziro Machine did to me.” I trace a finger over the tabletop, leaving a trail of frost on the veneer.
“And me? Did Ezekiel tell why we started remembering?”
I shake my head as I pull his hand across the table. “I’m sorry. I let him talk as much as he wanted, but he didn’t say anything about that.” I give him what I hope is a roguish smile. “Maybe you were so swayed by my charm you transcended the bounds of reality and time travel. We were fated, Jasper, and even a time loop couldn’t stop us.”
We stare at each other. His hazel gaze is endless. The circles around his eyes are gone. He looks exactly like the first time I remember seeing him. Healthy. Charming. So far out of my league.
He bursts out laughing. “Fated? That’s the most out there thing I’ve ever heard you say. You believe in fate?”
I didn’t use to. But I also didn’t believe you could live the same day over and over or get a second chance to make a first impression. I was wrong about a lot of things.
I’m still holding his hand, but I let it go long enough to hold mine out to shake. He grins as he takes it.
“Hi,” I say.
His smile is bemused. “Hi?”
“I’m Morgan Murray.”
