‘But what if it is?’ Tyler says, his voice level and entirely unaffected by the three glasses of champagne he drank with me. Evidently this Bethany is something of a lightweight.
‘Huh. My sister wouldn’t want this.’ I wave my hand around as if to indicate that none of this is what Cesca would have chosen.
‘Except that she does.’
‘She doesn’t.’
‘She chose to marry Helen, remember?’
I stare at my sister, at this sepia version of her. This sepia version with the traditional wedding and the blue bridesmaids’ dresses and the bouquet of white roses she will hand me during the real ceremony. It’s all so … provincial. So … traditional. And one thing Cesca hasneverbeen is provincial and traditional. She was always the girl with the blue hair and the bad-ass girlfriend and the who-gives-a-shit attitude. ‘I’m just trying to help.’ I pour another glass of champagne and pout slightly, almost daring him to tell me to slow down.
Instead it’s Helen who admonishes my drinking. Of course it is. And she does it without a single word, just a pointedlook and a subtle head shake of disappointment. My cheeks flare in embarrassment.
‘She doesn’t like people having fun,’ I mutter into my drink.
Tyler laughs. ‘I will concede on that.’
‘I’m only trying to help.’
‘Perhaps they don’t need your help?’
‘There is no “they” in this. It’s Cesca. All Cesca. She needs my help.’
‘So you’re blaming Helen? Saying it’s all Helen’s fault?’
‘Err. Yeah!’
‘Seriously?’ He seems genuinely put out by my comment.
‘You just can’t see it because you’re biased.’
‘Un-fucking-believable.’ He shakes his head and for a moment I see a brilliant flash of that same supercilious attitude oozing from Helen’s pores.
But then I remember it isn’tthisHelen andthisCesca. Given how different I am in each of these worlds, then how different might this Helen be? Am I measuring her constancy against Tyler’s, assuming she must be a carbon copy of herself in every world just like he seems to be? She could be anyone here, and so could Cesca. Maybe in this world theyarehappy. Maybe in this world Helen is kind and supportive and actually it’s Cesca who’s a bit of a nightmare?
I feel the wind leave my sails in an instant, and the change must be visible as Tyler instantly takes a step back, his face creasing in concern.
‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘It’s just … I have no idea, do I? No idea what is going on, and who is who, and why any of this is happening, and it’s all so messed up and right now all I can think about is kissing you again—’
I stop myself, but the words are already out, hanging in the heavy space between us. Ripe.
He looks vaguely confused. ‘Again?’
‘Well, I …’
He leans towards me, his gaze roaming from my eyes to my lips and then back again. ‘Again?’
I lean towards him. The air suddenly charging.
Then his lips are on mine and all memory of the argument is forgotten. The kiss is raw, urgent. Different from the last world on the doorstep of my flat … but yet somehow so familiar. I melt into the moment, allowing the sensations to take me. The scent of his aftershave, the gentle rasp of his stubble on my skin, the heat of him against me. I graze my nails gently down his exposed forearms and am rewarded by a hiss from the back of his throat.
Despite an evening spent drinking champagne, he still tastes of custard creams.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I get home just after midnight, ready to flop into bed and fall asleep. But as I’m standing in front of the mirror, cleaning my teeth and gurning at myself like a fool, I’m hit by a wave of … it’s tricky to describe. I don’t know if it’s sadness exactly, or exhaustion, or maybe even just good old-fashioned disappointment. But whatever it is I realize that I desperately want to wake up tomorrow morning and be here, in this world, ready to put on a brave face and spend the day with Cesca before we go to the wedding the day after and I can stand with my parents and watch my baby sister give her vows and I can shed a few tears at the enormity of the occasion. I want to feel part of something, part of my family. I want to feel like I belong.
I FaceTime Tyler. He’s just got home; I can see he’s not even had time to take his coat off before he answered. ‘You okay?’ he asks, the concern evident in his voice.
