‘So,’ I say, all business as I hand him a steamy cup of latte. I bring him up to date with all my thoughts, the different theories we – as in all the other versions of him and me – have come up with.
‘Okay,’ he says when I finally pause. ‘I do have one question.’ His brow furrows slightly.
‘Shoot.’
‘Where are you?’
‘Where am I? What?’
‘Well …’ he pauses for a moment ‘… if you are here in this universe, who is the Bethany in yours?’
‘Oh.’ I hadn’t thought about that before. He’s right. If I’m here, driving this dating-app Bethany – which is what we’re calling this one – then who’s driving my body?What if—The thought lodges in my chest and I try desperately to push it back down, to put it back in a box marked ‘do not open’.
‘Hey. Hey.’ Tyler scooches closer to me. ‘Are you okay?’ He reaches out to touch my shoulder. ‘Hey. What’s wrong? You’ve gone deathly pale.’
‘What …’ My voice sounds alien in my ears. ‘What if the answer is no one?’ It’s barely a whisper but the question feels like it echoes around the room.
He doesn’t answer, but his arm slips around me and he pulls me into him. We stay like that for what feels like an eternity.
‘What if it’s gone?’ I break the silence. ‘My world. What if it’s gone?’
‘It isn’t.’ He’s adamant.
‘You can’t know that.’
‘I can.’
I pull away from him so I can look him in the face. ‘You don’t.’
He smiles gently, causing his eyes to crinkle at the edges.‘Do you really want to know why I think the universe is pushing us together?’
I nod.
‘Because it wants me to help you. Because together we can figure this thing out. Because together we can find you a way home. Back to your world. Back to your Cesca.’
He sounds so sure that for a moment I believe him.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I know I’ve skipped before I even open my eyes. And I know that for the first time, I’m not alone. You’d think I’d panic, waking up in bed with a stranger. But I feel safe and content in a way I haven’t in … well … a long time. Possibly ever.
I crack open one eye and feel them shift, the warmth radiating from them snuggling in even closer. Like a sixth sense, they realize I’m awake and turn to face me. Coconut shampoo mixes with the scent of earth and leaves and a tiny hint of what might be day-old salmon breath. A long wet tongue lazily licks my cheek, a tail thumps on the bed, and then a large brown eye opens to greet me.
And BAM! Just like that, I’m in love.
A few years ago I started to wonder if I should get a dog. I grew up in a chaotic house full of books and dogs and random friends of Cesca’s who came over whenever and were always invited to stay for tea and sleepovers. Even when we went to boarding school, our cottage became a haven for everyone in the school holidays. She has always drawn the lost and lonely to her, promising to keep them safe and protected until they find their way again.
I remember it was three days after Easter and Cesca had appeared at my flat with an overflowing bag of chocolate eggs she’d ‘rescued’ from the shop just down from her own place. ‘He was practically giving them away,’ she assured me. ‘And it’s a crime to waste chocolate just because consumerism says we have to move on to the next shaped mould and packaging.’
This was a theme with Cesca. And it was why we spent the weeks after Easter eating eggs and bunnies, early November consuming zombies and eyeball-shaped sweets left over from Halloween, and the whole of January trying to stuff as many Santas and reindeer into our faces, along with all the rubbish leftovers at the bottom of the Quality Street – I mean, who actually likes the orange ones?
So, this day, the Wednesday after Easter, we were sitting cross-legged on the floor in my living room, a graveyard of packaging round us. ‘Maybe I could get a dog,’ I told her. There was no preamble, no segue into the topic. Cesca never needed that; she always knew exactly what I meant.
Did I just refer to her in the past tense?No. I can’t think like that. I stuff that idea down, along with all the others.
Back to the Wednesday after Easter.
‘A dog?’ Her eyes had sparkled at the mere idea.
