I call another ride, but the ache inside compels me in a different direction from Other Elodie’s house. I find myself getting out on the strip of Little India shops just a twenty-minute walk from the apartment Mom and I lived in.
Lived in back in my original reality. She never had a home in this version of the city at all, at least not with me. She died back in Paris.
Swallowing against the lump in my throat, I meander along the sidewalk.
A buoyant Indi-pop song peals from a clothing shop with elaborately embroidered saris in the window. A stall offering barbequed corn-on-the-cob wafts a smoky-sweet scent. A trio of kids with skin just a couple of shades darker than mine shout in delight as they bound past the storefronts.
So many afternoons, I wandered down here after school while waiting for Mom to get home from work. I peered at every store display and sniffed every cannister of spices and tea, searching for traces of her history. Studied every passerby’s face for a hint of resemblance.
Where exactly would she have fit in, if she hadn’t cut herself off from her family—or them from her, whichever’s the case? Could some of that family still be around here?
In my old world at least, both Mom and my uncle had settled in this city. Is it possible their parents, or maybegrandparents or aunts and uncles, lived nearby? Maybe in one of the smaller towns not too far out?
I’ve never stumbled on them. Singh is way too common a last name to narrow it down.
And what could they really do for me anyway? They’re strangers—strangers Mom wanted nothing to do with.
She’s the one I miss… and the only one I definitely can’t have.
Surrounded by familiar sights that aren’t really mine only drags me deeper into melancholy. I slip into a restaurant with the same name as one I knew but a differently styled sign, and come out with an order of pakoras that are a little crispier and tamarind chutney that’s slightly less tangy. I only manage to eat a few before my stomach balks.
Then I turn a corner, debating whether I should just go home—to the home that’s not really mine either—and see Byron striding down the street toward me.
When our gazes lock, he halts in his tracks. I gape at him, too startled to control my reaction.
He closes the distance between us with several swift paces and grasps my elbow. A quiver of ephemera shields us from further view.
“What are you doing here?” I demand.
His mouth slants at a sheepish angle. “I—I was worried about you after last night. I could tell after school that you’d headed in a different direction from home… so I wanted to make sure you were all right and not in trouble again.”
My shock smooths out with a pleased glow in my chest. I recover my humor enough to tease him. “You’re picking up Salvatore’s stalker habits.”
Byron makes a face at me, but he doesn’t argue. “If there’s one thing I’ll give Cosgrave credit for, it’s that he’s totally committed to protecting you.”
But Tore isn’t the one who tracked me down thisafternoon. Byron cared enough to follow my trail across the city.
He glances around us. “What areyoudoing out here? Did you find out something else about that Gwyn woman or the rest of her group?”
I shake my head quickly before he can hassle me about going off investigating on my own. “No. This is just… My mom always kept very quiet about her family background, but from her name and looks and a few other details, I know she was South Asian. I used to come here and try to find things she might like that would prompt her to open up more… Not that my stealthy plans ever worked. I was missing her today. But coming didn’t help after all.”
Byron strokes his hand up to my shoulder and back down in a reassuring caress. “You left her behind in your old reality too?”
“No. She died almost a year and a half ago. Liver cancer—it spread fast. We only had a few months after she was diagnosed.”
My voice wobbles with those last words, and Byron tugs me right into his arms. He ducks his head close to mine. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s no one’s fault. There was nothing even the lucent doctors could do.”
“Not just for that.” He presses a kiss to my forehead. “I’m sorry I got caught up in arguing with the other guys last night. We should have been focused on you, not sniping at each other.”
Guilt squeezes my heart. “I know it hasn’t been an easy situation for anyone.”
“You much more than us.”
Will that still be true when our union becomes public?
The thought of the misfortunes the other Byron faced tightens clammy fingers around my gut.
