It couldn’t be a coincidence, right?
I grabbed my phone and spent a solid hour scrolling through my chats with Link. Some of which had been lost as games ended, depending on which medium we chatted on.
I ran through the similarities for the millionth time.
Link… Lincoln. The names were similar.
They both spent a lot of time with their moms. Which maybe wasn’t unusual for normal people. Maybe I was the only one who rarely saw mine.
Lincoln and Link were both engineers.
Um… what else?
I thought I saw@wheretheresawilliamat Lincoln’s presentation, but I could have been mistaken.
How was it possible that I spoke to Link almost daily for years, and yet I knew so little about his private life?
I stumbled upon the message Link had sent me a couple years ago about how it would have been his father’s birthday. Lincoln had lost his father too.
Even though the information was scarce, I was sure. I could feel it in my bones, in my gut. I could feel it the first time we met, and I ignored it. I knew Lincoln Carden before I met him. My heart knew Lincoln Carden before I’d fallen in love with him.
Now I needed to confirm it. And confess.
And if Lincoln was my Link, he’d be at the LAN tonight, waiting for me.
I could text him, but what would I say?
Hi Mr. Carden, it’s me Elizabeth, aka Lily, aka Pancakes.
Oh gosh, please let that not be the thing I say.
Maybe I shouldn’t go at all. That was an option. But regardlessof whether Link and Lincoln were the same person, neither of them deserved to be stood up.
I was going to that LAN, and if I was wrong, then I’d get to meet Link and I’d tell him everything. He’d laugh at me. Maybe forever.
My mouth twitched knowing how he’d tease me.
Lincoln was everything, so all-encompassing, that I’d almost forgotten about Link. About the late nights and the early mornings. The soft prods and check-ins. He was even there for me when Alistair had left me unsettled.
So was Lincoln. Alistair hadn’t shown his face since Lincoln threatened him. I hadn’t received any messages or emails either.
This worried me because I knew it wasn’t the end. Douglas was up to something. Scheming. Planning. Whatever it was would be worse than the stalking.
I flung open my closet. Over the last few years, for every date I went on, I’d been rotating the same few outfits and thrifting.
But this wasn’t a date.Was it?
What does one wear when meeting the possible love of their life who may or may not be their boss?
As I threw every single item I owned out on my bed, it struck me that I had no idea how I’d identify him if he wasn’t Lincoln Carden. We hadn’t discussed anything like where we would meet or an identifiable outfit to wear.
Or…
Had we?
I had an idea, but I needed a permanent marker.
Here goes everything.
