He catches me, somehow managing to stop me from falling and rescuing my glass of wine at the same time. ‘Woah, there,’ he says. ‘I definitely think it’s time to call it a night.’
‘All I want is to get home,’ I whisper under my breath and feel the prick of a tear in the corner of my eye.
Oh that is just perfect. I’m about to cry on him now.
Chapter Fourteen
He calls an Uber – well, actually it’s a Volt; a service which runs entirely on electric vehicles and something one of my colleagues has been working on for at least the last year – evidently here he is a bit further ahead in his research – and we make our apologies to Cesca and Helen.
Cesca gives me a small grin and an almost imperceptible wink.
I stick my tongue out at her.
She giggles and for a moment I feel warmth fill my stomach. ‘Call me when you’re home,’ she says. ‘And you’d better look after my sister.’ She addresses this to Tyler. ‘She’s very special to me.’
Helen makes a harrumphing noise and once again I push down my anger towards her. Why is it that she’s having such an effect on me? I’m never normally so quick to judge people.
Back at my flat, Tyler walks me all the way to the door.
‘Will you be all right?’ he asks.
I want to tell him that I’m fine, that I don’t need his compassion, his pity. But I need his help. And today has beena fucking rollercoaster and I want him to take my hand and save me.
‘Coffee?’ I ask.
He quirks an eyebrow.
‘I mean actual coffee.’ I tell him, deadpan.
‘Sure,’ he says. ‘But you go and sit down; I’ll make it,’ he adds as we cross the threshold.
I mumble thanks and slope off in the direction of the sofa, suddenly bone-weary and desperate for comfort.
A few minutes – and a lot of clattering around the kitchen – later he emerges with two steaming mugs.
‘Um … your kitchen is …’ He trails off.
Shit! I’d completely forgotten about this Bethany’s decanting obsession.
He gives me a look, one that is half terrified and half fascinated.
‘Do you think I’m mad?’ I ask him.
He shifts his weight, not looking at me.
‘But you believe in the multiverse?’ I ask him.
‘Of course. It’s pretty fundamental to my research.’
‘So you know that what I’m saying, about not being this Bethany –’ I motion around me – ‘could be true?’
‘Well, yes, I mean. In theory.’
‘It’s no longer a theory. It’s fact.’
I explain everything, taking him from the moment I slid my feet into the white flip-flops that should have been beige, all the way to right here, right now.
‘When will you next … you know?’ he asks.
