Page 138 of What We Become

“Hey!” she says, way too brightly. “You’re early.”

“I’m five minutes late.”

“Are you? Wow. Time flies.”

I open my mouth to comment on the robe and the flush and the fact that she had Dean so flustered he didn’t recognize me at the door when Dean walks out of the bedroom buttoning his shirt.

“Oh, hi, Sage,” he says, like we just bumped into each other at the grocery store.

My brain stalls.

Dean is downstairs.

Dean walked out the front door.

Dean was wearing jeans and boots and heading into the crematorium.

How is Dean right here?

“Uh . . .” It’s the only sound that leaves my body as I watch Dean cross the living space, tucking his shirt into his slacks before stopping beside Amy and pressing a kiss to her temple. The other Dean left in jeans and boots. The clothes are different, but the face is exactly the same.

“I’ve got some work to do downstairs.” He glances at me with one of those pleasant smiles. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Then he grabs his lace-up shoes and pads toward the stairs in his socks.

I’m not a detective. I’m not even the kind of person who notices plot holes in movies unless someone else points them out. But when I watch Dean leave the apartment—for the second time in under a minute—I know without a doubt that I’m witnessing a major glitch in the matrix.

Two Deans.

Amy sips her tea. “You okay, Sage?”

I set the burger bag on the counter and double-blink at the bedroom door, willing some kind of answer to materialize in the rectangle of white paint.

Two of them.

There are two of them.

I turn to Amy. She’s still sipping her tea, but she’s watching me far too closely for that nonchalance she’s going for to land.

“Sage?”

“Dean has a twin,” I say, because if that isn’t the answer, then the world isn’t real anymore.

Amy sips. “Yeah. Drake.”

“That’s who answered the door? Drake?”

Amy attempts to hide her face in her mug. “Uh-huh.”

“They were both up here? With you?”

This time she just nods. But I see her eyes wide over the rim of the cup.

A slow smile creeps across my face. “Oh my God, Amy. Did I interrupt you having a threesome with twins?”

Her eyes go wide, and she grabs my arm and drags me into the bedroom, slamming the door behind us. “Oh my God, keep your voice down!”

“Amy.”