“What are you talking about?”
“In my version, Kincaid’s not doing good,” he says. “He was always happier in your version. Probably ’cause he’s had you.”
“Matt and I are over,” I say. “Regardless of this . . . you.”
A faint smile crosses his face, but it quickly fades back into a serious, thoughtful look as his fingers skim down my arm. “He wouldn’t do this to me.”
“You don’t know what he’d do,” I say. “You don’t know the same Matt I know.” After what happened at his party, I’m not sure I do either.
“And you don’t know the one I’m friends with,” he says.
“Exactly. They’re two different people,” I say. “You don’t need to feel bad about this.”
He gives a humorless laugh and shakes his head. “It wouldn’t matter,” he says. “If we were in the same world, the one where Kincaid was in love with you, I’d still be here. If you wanted me, I’d be here.”
“Why?” I ask.
He hides a grin and runs his thumb over my lips. “I’m not sure the world and me are as complicated as you think, Natalie. I didn’t mean to choose you or anything. I just know if I only get to build one porch in my life, I’d like it to be yours, and if there’s one person I never have to hurt or disappoint, I’d want that to be you too.”
I grab the sides of his face and kiss him again, slowly, deeply, his hands coming around me and lifting me over and on top of him. I fold over him to whisper, “I would still want you here too. In every version of the world, I would.”
Beau tightens his arms around me and kisses the top of my head. “Tell me one more and then I’ll go.”
“You don’t have to leave,” I say. “You could just disappear if someone came in.”
“And then I’d wind up in someone else’s closet,” he points out. “The first time I threw rocks at your window, an old man came outside, screaming about calling the cops.”
“Then you could stay in my version and just climb out the window.”
He looks down at me, smoothing the hair away from my face. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”
Forever, I think. This moment, forever. I’m self-aware enough, if only barely, to know that I’ve always had a hard time focusing on the present. I mean, for months leading up to Megan leaving all I could think about was the time we spent together and how it was going to feel to be without her. Once, Dad caught me crying about it when he brought a stack of laundry into my room. At first he apologized and turned to go, but then I assume the haloed Little Mom on his shoulder told him to stay and comfort me. When I told him why I was upset, that I already missed Megan even though she hadn’t gone, he fought a smile, cleared his throat, and said, “You’ve gotta enjoy the moment, sugar cube. You’ll miss your whole life looking forward and backward if you’re not careful.”
People say that kind of thing all the time, and I believe them. The problem is I can’t stop it. I can’t make my brain forget the past, or my heart disregard what might come in the future.
But right now, sitting on the floor with Beau, I don’t want to retreat to the past or fast-forward to the future. I don’t want to be alone so I can think or try to figure out how things between us will end before I ever let them start. Time stands oddly still, is maybe absent altogether, when I’m with Beau, like there really is only this moment and nothing else. I wonder if he has this calming effect on everyone or if it’s possible that out of all the people in the world, in two different universes, Beau and I are uniquely equipped to fit together.
I don’t believe in love at first sight but maybe this is as close as it gets: seeing someone, a person you have no business loving, on a football field one night and thinking, I want you to be mine and I want to be yours. Lying on a closet floor with someone and thinking, I shouldn’t know you but I do. Recognizing someone as a part of you before they’ve even become that person in your life, and knowing, without a doubt, that neither of you will ever be who are you in this exact moment ever again and believing, against all odds, you will continue to belong to one another despite that.
I don’t love Beau yet, I don’t think. But being with him feels like a better version of being alone, and in that way, I think we are each other’s.
I look up at the ceiling and wait for another story to come to me, feeling the threads pass through my mind like the light of knowledge Grandmother Spider wove through the first humans.
“What do you think it all means?” Beau murmurs against my ear. “All those stories she told you.”
“I don’t know. Maybe she just didn’t want them to be lost.”