Page 70 of Callum
“Fiona—”
“No, Callum. It’s here. I’m going to show you my red sweater and prove that you didn’t see what you think you saw.” She slammed the drawer closed, then opened the next one. “Maybe I put it somewhere else. Maybe I was tired and put it with my T-shirts.”
She was still speaking the truth. What the fuck was going on?
This time, shirts flew behind her, landing on top of the sweaters littering the floor.
When Fiona cursed, emotion clogging her voice, he stepped behind her and wrapped his fingers around her wrists, halting her movements.
“Stop.” The single word was soft but firm. He held her securely enough so that she wasn’t able to move, but not so tightly he’d bruise her.
For a moment, she did. Clothes stopped flying, her arms stilled. That only lasted for a second, then she shook her head. “No! I need to find it.”
She tugged and pulled at his hold.
He swore. “Fiona, stop.”
“You said she was wearingmysweater. But she couldn’t have been. There can’t be a person walking around out there who looks like me and dresses in the exact same clothes!”
She pulled and twisted so hard, he cursed again and released her. But instead of returning to her drawer, she moved to the closet and started pulling clothes from the hangers.
He took a small step forward. “Fiona. Talk to me. If that wasn’t you today, do you know who it was?” She had to know something, because the two women were identical.
She kept pushing through clothes, each outfit shoved with more violence. “Things have been happening. Things that don’t make sense. And I’ve been pushing everything aside and ignoring it because there’s already too much going on, and I haven’t been able to convince myself any of this is possible.”
Her hands shook violently, and her chest rose and fell so aggressively he was scared she’d hyperventilate.
“Freddie said I was giving him mixed signals at the wedding, but Iwasn’t. Then today, Rick said something happened between us, but literallynothinghas happened with him. And at the wedding, I saw…” Her breath caught, her knees shook, and she grabbed a hanging dress for support.
He couldn’t keep his distance any longer. He shot forward, wrapped his fingers around her hips, and touched his lips to her ear. “Stop and breathe.”
“I-I can’t. I don’t understand what’s happening!”
Her words and the guttural pain in them sliced at him. With gentle pressure on her hips, he turned and lifted her. Immediately, she wrapped her legs around his waist and tucked her head into the crook of his neck.
Some of the anguish left his chest, and he carried her to the bed. The second he was sitting, he cupped her cheek. “What did you see at the wedding?”
She swallowed, her gaze moving between his eyes like she was looking for…something. Answers?
“I saw…me,” she said quietly.
He frowned, something heavy and uncomfortable settling in his gut. “What do you mean, you saw you?”
“I saw a woman who lookedexactlylike me on the other side of the dance floor. She wore the same dress. The same heels. Even her hair was done the same way. I was in so much shock, that I followed her.”
“That’s when you got locked outside.”
She nodded, her gaze lowering to his shirt as she smoothed out a wrinkle in the material. “When I got locked out, I convinced myself I couldn’t have seen what I thought I saw. Because it just wasn’t possible.”
“It was,” he said quietly. “Because I saw her today too.”
Her breath stuttered. “And she really looked like me?”
“Exactly like you.”
A shudder raced down her spine, and he tugged her closer.
She shook her head. “I don’t understand. How could a random person look like me, down to the birthmark?”
