Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 342(@200wpm)___ 273(@250wpm)___ 228(@300wpm)
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yes. We talked for five, maybe ten minutes. I don’t know. My mind was going a million fucking miles an hour. It happened so fast. And then she took a call and had to go.”
“Where did you find her?”
“At the bar attached to the Mondauer Hotel in Midtown. Said she was in town for work and that she always stays there. But get this—we met before. Right before the accident. I don’t remember it, but she says we did.”
Claire is quiet for a moment, and without saying a word, trails down the hall to Luke’s home office. The click of the door closing follows.
They’re talking about me, I’m sure.
I bet she thinks I’ve lost my fucking mind. And maybe I have.
A moment later, the two of them emerge—hand in hand, a united front.
“I think we should call Dr. Shapiro,” Claire says.
“What? No. Absolutely not.”
“I could call my cousin? He’s a shrink in Seattle,” Luke offers.
Claire pulls up her phone. “I actually found this really interesting article on déjà vu the other day. Let me see if I can find it. It said something like when we think we’re repeating an event, it’s really just the memory loops in our brain getting tripped up. Or something like that. Two secs.”
“This is not déjà vu, Claire. This is real fucking life.” I pace the pre-war parquet floor of their living room. “You know what … forget it. Forget I said anything.”
The two exchange concerned expressions.
They want to help. And they mean well. But no fucking thank you.
I can do this on my own if I have to. I can find her. I can make sense of all of this. And I don’t need Dr. Shapiro on speed dial to do so.
“We should probably get going if we’re going to make our dinner reservation,” Claire says. “We can talk about this more over drinks if you want …”
“No. I need to go back to the Mondauer.”
Claire laughs. “And do what? Hang out in the lobby like a stalker?”
“No. I’ll be at the bar.”
“Then we’re going with you. We’ll just cancel our reservations,” she says, turning to Luke. “Right, babe?”
“Of course,” Luke says. “I’d love to meet this mystery woman myself.”
“Because you don’t believe me …” I roll my eyes when they aren’t looking.
“Cainan.” Claire comes to my side, taking my hand. “Put yourself in our shoes. If I hit my head, woke up, and told you I was married to the King of Jamaica and then six months later told you I found him in a bar in Manhattan … you’d tell me I was batshit freaking crazy and you’d have me committed.”
She isn’t wrong.
“You guys better get going,” I say, “or it’ll be three months before you can get another table at Centro Pietro.”
With that, I show myself out.
I hail a cab back to the bar.
And I wait for her until closing time.
But she never shows.
13
Brie
“You’ll have to let me know if there are ever any openings at the Phoenix branch,” my Manhattan counterpart, Maya Delgado, says in her thick accent Wednesday morning over lunch.
Carly would be proud—I’m eating at a restaurant I’ve never tried before and I switched to a new hotel just to try something different for a change.
“You’re looking to move?” I ask. My gaze moves to my naked ring finger. I left the ring at home before I flew out here. It was an unintentional move. I was washing my face and sat it next to the sink. I was already through airport security Tuesday morning when I realized I’d forgotten to put it back on.
She twirls a mound of pesto-slicked linguine into a spoon. “My grandparents live in Mesa. They’re in their eighties and Gram’s not getting around as well. I’ve already lost one set of grandparents, and my biggest regret was not spending more time with them. Would just be nice if I could be closer, you know? At least temporarily. New Yorker for life, baby.”
She places a fist over her heart then makes a peace sign.
“Yeah.” I dab my mouth with a cloth napkin. “I don’t know if there’ll be any openings soon … but maybe we could trade locations? Maybe for a few months or something?”
“Seriously?” Maya’s eyes smile before her mouth does. “You would do that for me?”
I nod. “Yeah, why not?”
Who even am I right now?
I chuckle to myself.
I’m a crazy woman, that’s who.
“We’d have to get it cleared with HR and a couple of the higher ups, but I don’t think it’d be an issue. We do the same jobs. And we can keep our caseloads. We’ll just be trading offices essentially,” I say. “Maybe we could start at the end of the month? Go through the end of the year?”
I check my watch. The first candidate’s interview is in two hours. The second interview is tomorrow. Brenda at Fairway Recruiting managed to line up a third for this Friday morning, five hours before I’m set to fly back home.