Page 98 of Turning Back

“But… this is temporary, right? I mean… Rochelle and Quin are… in love, aren’t they?”

“Sure,” I say. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Elias Bricman,” she scoffs. “You’re not that delusional, are you?” She just stares at me.

“What? Rochelle is happy. Quin likes me involved. And plus, Adley is mine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I feel it.” I shrug. “Anyway, didn’t you ever take physics?”

“What?” She laughs.

“It’s called quantum superposition and it goes like this—and this is one hundred percent true. Look it up. If you have a cat in a box and you don’t look inside to see if the cat is alive or dead, like there’s no possible way of knowing one way or the other unless you physically look, then it’s both alive and dead at the same time.”

“No…”

“Yes, for real. It’s been proven and shit. Reality depends on observation. On knowing things. So if we never know who Adley’s father is, then we’re both her father. It’s science. So she really is my daughter.”

“Until she’s not, Bric. If you guys do get the test, then you’ll know for sure.”

“But we’re not getting the test. So she is. We’ve locked her paternity in a box with the cat and none of us want to change that. I think we’re happy.”

Chella frowns. Takes a moment to think. “You know how you have that rule about the game? When the girl wants to leave you’re not allowed to follow?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, one of you will want to leave, Bric. Eventually. The world is not made for threesomes. It’s made for couples. You’re playing a game. It’s a very dangerous game because it was designed to end. One day it will end. You know that, right?”

I shrug her off and stand up to stretch and glance around, feeling the need to get back to work. “I’ll take my chances,” I say. And then I turn to walk away, but I stop, remembering why we’re here in the first place. “Invite more people to the soft opening. We need a better feel for a packed house.” I walk off, then call out over my shoulder. “Tell Smith I said hi.”

She’s wrong, I think. She’s wrong about the new game. It’s more than a game. We’re more than players. We’re professional players. We know how to handle it. We’ve been together for years. Quin is happy, I can tell. And Rochelle loves me. Maybe not the same way she loves Quin, but it’s up there. I’m in the running.

It won’t end.

I can’t end.

I love that baby.

She’s mine as long as we don’t open that box.

Chapter Twenty-Two - Rochelle

“You’re sure you’re OK?” I ask Quin.

“Hey,” he says. “We’re fine. I got this.” He’s holding Adley in his arms and she’s smacking his face with both hands. Each time she does it, he blinks and laughs. She squeals and wiggles.

They are adorable together. Does she look like him? I can’t tell. How do people tell? How do people say, Oh, she has your chin, or, Yes, those are your ears? I don’t get it. When I look at her and me in the same photo, I do see it. She does look like me. But Quin and Bric… I just don’t know. I can’t tell. It makes me sad.

“I have two bottles of milk in the fridge—”

“I know,” Quin says. “I heard all the last-minute directions the other night when we left her with Bric. Baby food on the counter if I’m up to it. Bath time, story time, bed time.”

“Plus, you’ve got my video if you need a cheat sheet.” Bric comes out of the bedroom adjusting his cufflinks. He’s in a tux. This is a formal event at a local historical mansion over on Pennsylvania Street for one of the charity things they do. It’s only like three miles away. Bric bought me a long black dress with a white fur cape. I have my hair in a loose updo, and the diamonds around my neck and wrists are heavy.

I have missed going out to fancy places. And the diamonds. Maybe more than I’d like to admit.

“Ready?” Bric asks, holding out my cape so he can drape it around my shoulders. I turn and the soft satin lining settles on my bare skin. It’s heavy and I’m glad. Because the dress is strapless and even though it’s not snowing tonight, it’s cold.