‘I … I … I …’ But I can’t find the words. Instead I pick up the notebook lying on the coffee table in front of me. It’s blue with gold peacock feathers on it and gilt edges. Pretty. There is no theorem etched into the pages and so I begin to draw it.
Tyler is patient, that confusion that became suspicion now transforming into something else. Intrigue. Understanding. Fascination.
I finish and hand it to him.
‘This is …’ He trails off and lifts his head to stare at me.
‘Yep.’
‘But …’ He stares back at the notebook.
‘Tyler?’ My tone is serious. ‘I need to tell you something. But you need to listen to me. I need you to just listen to the whole thing and not ask any questions until we get to the end. I need you to understand. Okay?’
He nods.
‘I’m not this Bethany Raven. This isn’t my world—’
‘But—’
‘I said no interrupting,’
He looks suitably chastised.
I continue. ‘I have now skipped eleven times and in every new world I come and find you and we try to work out what is happening and how we can stop it and how we can get me home again. Back to the right version of the universe. Back to me being the Bethany Raven I’m supposed to be. But every time we fail. And then I skip to the next universe and we have to start again. And I’m tired and scared and I don’t know if I can keep doing this when nothing works.’
He reaches out and pulls me to him, cradling me in his arms. ‘Maybe this time will be different,’ he says softly.
‘Why would it be.’ It isn’t a question.
‘Well. This time I came to you, remember?’
He’s right. In this world he was the one who turned up on my doorstep. But it won’t mean anything. Not in terms ofchanging the outcome. I can feel it, deep in my bones. All it means is fate is laughing at me. Even the two greatest minds in this universe combined can’t solve the riddle of what is happening.
So what’s the fucking point?
Chapter Twenty-Five
I wake up. Stuff has shifted so I must have skipped again.
I just don’t care. I’m tired. Tired of jumping and tired of learning a whole new me. Tired of discovering what a mess of all the important stuff this version of Bethany has made.
Perhaps I should blow it all up? Destroy everything in the knowledge I will wake up in a couple of days and be somewhere new. Somewhere it doesn’t matter.
I wander listlessly around the flat. Touching items that exist only here and not at home. I write down the theorem in a notebook covered in tiny butterflies. This Bethany has run out of coffee and despite my desire to hide from the world I know I need caffeine.
So I drag myself outside, and head to the café a few streets over that I sometimes use when I work from home. It looks identical to the one in my world, small pots of herbs on each table and all the cakes under glass cloches. The barista waves like a lunatic as I walk in and I raise my hand instinctively in something approximating a wave in return.
‘The usual breakfast?’ she asks with a smile, like it’s an invitation.
So it seems that this Bethany is a regular here. I have no idea what her ‘usual’ is, but whatever differences there are between our worlds, we’re the same fundamental person ata physiological level so we must like the same foods. I mean, taste must be genetic, right?
The poppy seed muffin placed in front of me suggests that may not be the case. I do not like poppy seed muffins. If you’re going to have a muffin, have a proper one with chocolate chips or sticky toffee sauce in the middle. Not fucking poppy seeds. But this Bethany doesn’t justlikepoppy seed muffins. She eats them so often that the café knows her order. How is that even possible?
The barista also brings me a black Americano. That at least is something I can get on board with.
I take a small bite of the muffin. Just in case I offend the barista. Which is ridiculous, but I am nothing if not a people pleaser. It’s … well … it’snice.What the hell? I take another small bite. Yep. It’s delicious.
The barista is watching me and laughs. ‘You know, that’s the exact same face you pulled the first time I convinced you to try one. And then a couple of weeks ago …’ For a split second her brow furrows and her voice turns more serious. ‘It’s like you keep forgetting how much you like the poppy seed ones.’
