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“I turned it off.” The bell rings over the door as a couple of teenagers come inside. “Is Theo okay?”
“Everyone’s fine. We’re all worried.”
“I sound insane,” I say. “There’s no way to explain this to them. I’ve been sitting here for two hours, and Andrew hasn’t tried to come find me. I’m going to be terrified of something horrible happening to me every second for the rest of this trip—maybe every second for the rest of my life—and everyone must think that I’m losing my grip.”
He winces sympathetically. “If it makes you feel better, they all wanted to come find you. You didn’t scare Andrew away, I just told him to give you some space.”
The opening notes to “All I Want for Christmas Is You” play through the diner speakers. I cast my eyes toward the ceiling. “Did you know they’ve played this song every twenty-two minutes?”
He doesn’t give any outward response to this, just lets me silently work through my thoughts. Groaning, I bend to rest my forehead on my arms. “Benny, I realized something while I was sitting here.”
His hand comes over my arm. “What’s that?”
“I asked the universe to show me what would make me happy.”
“I thought we already knew that.” He sounds confused.
“No,” I say, pushing myself back up to face him. “I mean, I asked it to show me. I didn’t say, ‘Give me what will make me happy,’ or ‘Let me be happy forever.’ I said, ‘Show me what will make me happy.’ So, it showed me, but clearly I don’t know how to handle it, or what to do, and I can’t keep pretending everything is normal.”
Benny shakes his head, brows low. “Mae, this doesn’t have to be so complicated. Just go tell Andrew what you told me. Explain to him what’s going on with you. Andrew is smart. Of any of us, he’ll be open to the idea that the world isn’t always what we think it is.”
“Well, that’s the problem.” I feel a hundred years old. “How do I explain it? How do I show him?”
“The same way you did with me.”
I shake my head. “But the first time it happened, and I talked to you, it was the beginning of the holiday. Things were still happening the way I remembered. I could point things out in advance, because they hadn’t changed.” I shred my napkin a little more. “But now everything has changed. I don’t even know what’s going to happen next. I don’t know how to prove to him that I’m not making this up.”
“What about what you said about Ricky and Lisa selling the cabin?”
“He already knows about that. And I’ve been talking about it, asking about it. It isn’t that big a leap for me to guess that they were going to tell us eventually.”
“Come on, Noodle. Let’s head back.”
Pulling my coffee closer, I hug it like it’s my last true friend. “I needed to make some changes anyway. This table is my home now. Forward my mail.”
Laughing, Benny reaches into his back pocket, fishing out his wallet. “You’ll feel better after you talk to Andrew.”
“Are they all waiting at the van?”
He shakes his head and pulls a clean hundred-dollar bill out, dropping it on the table. “They all headed back a while ago.” He stands. “We can take a cab.”
I stare at the bill on the table. “Holy Benjamin Franklin. My coffee was, like, four dollars.”
“I don’t have anything smaller on me.”
“Let me just pay with my debit card.” I start to stand, but he puts a hand on my arm.
“Mae. I got it. It’s almost Christmas, and this nice little restaurant has kept you safe from cars and awnings and all other dangerous flying objects.” He shrugs. “You ever hear of Spotify?”
“Uh, yeah?”
He grins. “I got in early.”
“How early?”
“Early.” He lifts his chin to the door. “Let’s go.”
chapter twenty-three
I spend the drive home thinking of every time loop movie I’ve ever seen, and then berating myself because I’ve barely seen any. No wonder I’m screwing this up. The taxi drops us off, and I don’t go into the main house. Instead I ask Benny to let everyone know I’m fine but need a little space, and make my way through the snow to the back, in search of the one person who—I hope—can make me feel better.
I hear Andrew strumming his guitar from outside, and reach up, knocking tentatively. “It’s me.”
He gives an immediate “Come in.”
The sun wanes, dropping behind the mountain, casting the Boathouse in an eerie twilight shadow when I step inside.
“Hey. I’ve been hoping you’d come soon.”
Relief blooms in me. “Hey.”
He sets his guitar down near the cot and walks over. I Cupping my face, he leans in and kisses me so intensely the world around us goes milky. “You had a rough afternoon,” he says once he’s pulled away.
