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Sean glances at me and says, “It’s none of my business.” I hope it’s just a defense mechanism; the aloofness bothers me.
“Do you seriously feel that way?” I ask quietly, eyes on the gate. “Because if you do, then—”
“No,” he interrupts. He looks away, out the window at nothing. “You’re making me crazy.”
“Good,” I say, smiling. “I mean, not good, but good that you… care.”
“I care.”
“Okay.”
I inhale deeply and blow it out. Then I punch the buttons to open the gate.
“So, as I was saying, I don’t like Dave,” I reiterate as I navigate the driveway with less fear than usual. “I mean, he’s nice enough, but I don’t like him in that way.” Pause. Say it. “I like you.”
I look at Sean and catch his half smile as he looks down at his hands. Then his eyes are on mine. “Then what’s with hanging out with him?”
“That’s one of the things I want to try to explain,” I say, parking in front of the garage. I turn off the car; he looks at me, ready to listen. “Not here,” I say. “Not in the car, I mean. We have to go inside. But I’m just warning you, I’m going to tell you some strange stuff. Your normal day ends now.”
Sean smiles at me like he did that night at the game. “I think I can handle it.”
I pause on the porch, thinking of all that’s about to change. Wondering for a beat if I’m doing the right thing, then remembering how confidently I told Ella and Betsey that we can trust Sean. Because we can; I know we can. And I wasn’t kidding when I said that I needed to tell him for me, too. I need to get my life back, a step at a time. Step one: Grab the door handle. I push through, my heart thumping hard in my chest.
“Come in,” I say quietly.
He walks tentatively into the house and immediately looks up. It’s hard not to do: The soaring ceiling with the colossal crystal chandelier in the center is attention grabbing, to say the least. Sean’s eyes travel up the grand staircase and across the balcony until they meet walls where the bedrooms are. I watch as they continue to meander up, up, and up.
I clear my throat.
“Sorry,” he says, eyes on me now. “But your house is sweet.”
“Thanks,” I say, kicking off my shoes. Sean copies me, and I start up the stairs. “Let’s go.”
I pause on the second step from the top. I know that they know we’re coming—their nervousness is making mine snowball. I turn to face Sean; he’s two steps behind me, so I’m taller than him. “Ready?” I ask.
“Okay, now you’re starting to freak me out.” My face must look as worried as I feel, because he grabs my hand. “Hey,” he whispers, “I’m fine.”
I nod, then turn and finish the climb, still holding his hand. The double doors to the rec room are open; Ella and Betsey are sitting on opposite couches. They both turn to look at us.
“Hi, you two,” Betsey says warmly. Ella waves stiffly.
“Hi,” I say back before glancing at Sean. His eyes float from face to face. As planned, we’re all in different clothes, but still, I’m sure it’s a lot to take in.
“Are you guys triplets or something?” he asks, following me into the rec room after I tug a little on his hand. Ella laughs and it’s higher pitched than usual. Sean and I sit down in the open chairs.
“No,” I say, “at least not anymore.” Sean looks at me funny; I gesture to the others. “That’s Betsey, and this is Ella.” They both smile at him, and I wonder if it seems like he’s looking at two copies of me. It makes me feel the opposite of special.
Average.
But I force myself to get over it and do what I brought him here to do. “Sean, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll just go for it,” I say, sitting up a little straighter. He looks at me again.
“The thing is that we’re not triplets,” I say. “We wish we were triplets. We used to think that we were, back when we were little. But really, what we are is… well, we’re clones.”
Part of me wonders whether Sean’s going to stand and run out of the room screaming, but he doesn’t move at first. His eyes stay on mine; his expression is expectant, like I’m going to shout, “Just kidding!” and we’re all going to have a big laugh. But then, about five seconds later, his features give it away when he realizes I’m serious. The upturned corners of his lips flatten out, his eyebrows dip just slightly enough to make him look disbelieving. I could swear his grip on my hand loosens. I loosen mine, too, and our hands fall apart, into the space between our chairs. That space feels like a valley; I knit my hands together in my lap.
“What does that even mean?” Sean asks, looking at the others. Betsey scoots forward to the edge of her chair.
