“I know,” I said. “I know. It makes me…” I couldn’t quite finish the whole sentence at once, but March could.
“Angry,” he said.
And also, “Confused.”
But… “Like that couldn’t have possibly beenme,” as well.
And… “Like I want to do anything tonot bethat person I don’t even remember.”
Slowly, March turned his head toward me. “Is that why you moved away from me?”
I nodded. Gritted my teeth to make sure I didn’t start crying.
The silence stretched between us for another tick.
“Part of me doesn’t believe it,” I whispered a few heartbeats later. “That can’tbe me.That’s somebody else. Another version of me—justnot me.”
“But then another part of me almost…remembers.” He slowly reached out his hand for mine—slowly,to give me all the time in the world to move away.
I didn’t.
“I remember the feel of your skin.” His fingertips caressed my knuckles and every inch of my skin rose in goose bumps. “I remember the feel of your hair.” He raised his hand and took a strand between his fingers. “I think I know how many freckles are on your face.”
“I think I know you love glass.”
Our eyes locked and we didn’t breathe for a second.
“I think I know your favorite cake is red velvet.” And maybe it was a silly thing to think, but I was almost sure Iguessedit.
Just as sure that Iwasn’tguessing.
His lips parted—those beautiful lips I was yearning for separately while I lived all these other seconds.
His lips parted but he didn’t speak.
He let go of my hair and closed his eyes and sighed.
“Say it,” I whispered. “Whatever you’re going to say, just say it.” I wanted to hear it.
March exhaled, long and slow.
“I don’t remember being that guy they said I was,” he said. “And the things Idoremember are worse. I don’t know what to do with them, Ora. I don’t know how to tell what’sminefrom what’s…his.”
Hisbeing the version that he was before.
And just like that, he put all my thoughts into the world, gave them shape and direction. Put a name to this state I was in.
“And yet I keep thinking,” I said, inspired by him, “maybe it’s both.” Maybe Icouldbe both.
March thought about it for a long second. I could see the wheels turning in his head even though he was staring at the floor, and I could only see his profile.
“Maybe.”
I analyzed him some more in silence, the soft, tired lines around his eyes, the curl of his hair falling across his forehead, the mouth I’d drawn a hundred times and had hoped and prayed anddreadedto see in real life.
But that was back when I thought I never would.
“Can I tell you something?” I said without really thinking.
