Page 3 of Parallel

My eyes open. Two feet away, Jeff and my mothercontinue to discuss me, and my chest pinches tight. Jeff’s the person I’ve loved for the past six years. The man I wake up next to each morning, the one who made crepes for my birthday and gave up a day of fishing to walk through the Hirshhorn with me last weekend. Ihatethat I’m sitting here right now wanting someone I’ve nevermet.

Someone who doesn’t evenexist.

But on the way home, the motion of the car lulling me to sleep, it’s not Jeff who’s in my head. It’s Nick, just as I imagined him when Ifell.

* * *

I wakein Nick’s flat just before he does. His hand is on my hip, possessive even in his sleep, and I’m smiling at that when his eyes flicker open. I’m also smiling at the view, given that a sheet is only covering his lower half, leaving the rest of him—bare, tan, flawless—on glorious display. Last night he said he’d stopped swimming competitively in college, but he’s obviously still doing a whole lot ofsomething.

“You stayed,” he says, his grin lifting high on one side. My heart flutters at the sight of it. I can’t believe I crossed an ocean only to fall for a guy who grew up a few hours fromme.

“I did. Although to be fair, I kind of had to since I have no idea how to get back to my apartment from here.” Given that I could easily have called Uber or pulled up a city map on my phone, this doesn’t make much sense, but he’s kind enough not to point itout.

That dimple of his appears. I want to marry him based on that dimple alone. “All part of my evil plan to keep youhere.”

I glance around his flat, which I saw little of last night because it was late when we got in and the two of us were, um, a little occupied. It’s bachelorish—bare walls, windows in need of curtains, ash-gray hardwood. I decide I’m open to the possibility of beingkept.

“Evil plan?” I ask. “So this is something you’ve been working on for awhile?”

“Absolutely. Though ‘meet gorgeous female with no knowledge of London’ was a surprisingly difficult firststep.”

We are both smiling right now. How can it be so comfortable? How can I already feel so connected to him? From the moment we met yesterday, it was as if I was meant to know him, or perhaps, somehow, already did. “So far I sort of like your evilplan.”

He raises himself up, leaning on his forearm. It brings him closer to my mouth. “And I was a perfect gentleman as promised, wasn’tI?”

Our eyes lock. He kissed me for hours the night before, until I was on the cusp of begging him to undress me, but it went no further. His gaze flickers to my mouth. He’s remembering ittoo.

“You were a perfectgentleman.”

He leans over me, broad, tan shoulders sculpted by God himself. “You can’t kiss me until I’ve brushed my teeth,” Iwarn.

“Then I’ll focus on other parts.” His lips brush against my jawline and move to my neck. He pulls at the skin just hard enough to elicit a sharp inhale, my body arching against his withoutthought.

“Jesus,” he groans. “I’m trying to behave here, but you’re not making iteasy.”

Since he’s only wearing boxers, that fact was already clear to me, but I don’t care. My hand skims down his broad back to his waistband. I want to slide my palm over his hard ass, and let my nails sink into hisskin…

“I want you to make that noise again,” he says, his voice husky and low. He pulls at my neck in the same place he justdid.

“Oh God, I like that way too much,” I murmur. “Just don’t give me ahickey.”

He laughs apologetically. “I think it’s toolate.”

“Then,” I reply, pulling him back down, “you might as well do itagain.”

* * *

“Hon,”says Jeff, shaking my shoulder. “Wakeup.”

I blink, trying to make sense of the fact that Nick is no longer with me. And then I look over at my fiancé, at his sweet face and his furrowed brow, and feel sick with guilt. It couldn’t have been real, with Nick, but I still have the sinking feeling that hits when you discover you’ve done something very, verywrong.

“Where are we?” I ask, my voice raspy with sleep. We’re surrounded by the cement walls of a parking garage, deep underground and lit only by flickering fluorescent light. It provides noclues.

“The hospital. You fell at the inn, remember? Hurt yourhead?”

Argh. It comes back to me in a rush. Planning the reception, the sense of déjà vu, the sight of that white cottage in the distance. And then the time I spent with Nick—the time IthoughtI spent with Nick—during which Jeff didn’t seem to exist. It was so real. It still feels real. It would be enough to make me believe in reincarnation, except it was all happeningnow, or close to it. I remember his iWatch on the nightstand. I was thinking about Uber. It was recent. And the very last thing I want is to be poked and prodded by some doctor while skirting around the fact that part of me still thinks ithappened.

“I think we can skip it,” I tell him. I’m sure to Jeff this whole thing seems monumental, but my childhood was littered with bizarre little episodes none of us could explain, and this seems likely to fall in the same category, if a thousand times more extreme. “I’m fine now and I don’t feel like sitting in a waiting room for hours just to have some doctor tell me he thinks I’mokay.”

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