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Eliot joins us, his long arms wrapping around me and Tom. He encases our three-person hug, as though protecting what we are. Tears prick the edges of my eyes. It feels like no time has passed—but I know it’s all an illusion.
How much has really changed?
A knot in my throat, I back up slowly.
Eliot has a hand clamped on his mouth, like he’s forcing himself not to say anything triggering. His gaze carries a million worries for me.
“Let’s go this way.” I motion for Donnelly to follow. We vacate the café section of the store and slip down an aisle of Halway comics and Marvel merch. We’re further out of the security team’s sights, sans Donnelly, but he’s hanging back a bit too.
“Just to be clear”—I face Tom and Eliot—“I still don’t remember the last three years, so I have questions.” I hoist my journal. “I’ve been writing them down.”
Eliot smiles. “How very Luna of you.”
“The most Luna thing you could do, really,” Tom adds, his eyes a little reddened. “On brand.”
It makes me feel good, and I catch Donnelly’s supportive gaze at the end of the aisle. I take a deep breath. “You already know Donnelly.” Do they despise him and me together? Do they think we’re a bad match? I just go ahead and ask, “Are we all cool?”
“Cool as a cucumber,” Tom says with a big nod. “The four of us are like the Four Musketeers. Unbreakable. Unstoppable.”
“Thick as thieves,” Eliot chimes in.
Behind them, Donnelly’s brows rise in disbelief. “This happen when I was asleep or what?”
My stomach tosses.
Eliot gives him a hard look. “We were on our way to becoming a four-pod, ride-or-die friendship group. Right on the cusp,” he says dramatically, then waves to his brother. “Tom and I just decided to fast forward the awkward beginning, so we can solidify the inevitable.”
Tom nods wholeheartedly. “We’re basically all friends.”
“Basically?” I ask, confused.
Eliot bops a Groot bobblehead on the shelf. “Like I said, you were just beginning to bring Donnelly into the fold.”
“So for clarification, we’re not the Four Musketeers?” I squint hard at Donnelly. He’s shaking his head.
Eliot sees. “But you’re invited. Luna was going to tell you that we all wanted to be friends.”
I was?
“You didn’t tell Donnelly?” Tom questions.
Original Luna either ran out of time or didn’t want Donnelly to join the friendship trio.
“She can’t remember,” Eliot reminds his brother.
“Sorry,” Tom says, looking a little torn up. Their best friend was kidnapped. They might’ve even feared she wouldn’t survive. I’m likely a lousy fill-in for her, but I’m trying.
Since I already brewed coffee, we wind up at the Superheroes & Scones bar. Donnelly posts up on a stool, and Eliot pours a few mugs of dark roast behind the counter. Just as I sit between Donnelly and Tom, my phone buzzes.
“Uh, who’s Harriet?” I ask. “Do I need to answer?” I still have to keep up appearances with anyone who’s not family or security. The outside world needs to think all is well. I have all my memories. Nothing to see here!
The whole pretending thing sounds like I’ve been planted in a Parent Trap movie and instructed to take the place of my long-lost twin. Only, I don’t have that twin to help guide me in this charade, which makes it infinitesimally harder.
“Harriet,” Tom groans. “Just hang up.”
“Luna wouldn’t be rude to her,” Eliot defends.
I’m befuddled. “So do I like Harriet or not?” The call is about to ring out. “Someone tell me fast.”
“You like her,” Eliot and Tom say together, and Tom adds, “But I personally have mixed, mostly negative, feelings.”
I look to Donnelly.
“She’s your lab partner at Penn.” He tells me the name of the class super quickly, and I answer on the last ring, putting the call on speaker in case I need help.
“Hey, Hi, Holy Cow,” I say and then cringe. I doubt OG Luna would say that.
“Hey, Luna,” Harriet says casually, but her tone has a bit of sour bite. “So I know you’re dealing with family stuff. But the professor told me to tell you that if you miss another lab, he’s going to fail you. He’s being more dickish than usual. I can cover the lab work—but you know I can’t actually clone you, so you’re going to have to show up.”
I don’t say anything.
“Luna?”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll be there.” I must have a schedule somewhere. Maybe on my laptop.
“Cool. Cool,” she deadpans. “Sorry to be the bearer of shitty news.”
“It’s okay. Thanks for looping me in.”
She says a quick goodbye. When I end the call, Eliot applauds. Tom claps, a little less enthused since Harriet is involved, I’m guessing.
“Brilliant,” Eliot says and tosses sugar packets my way like rose petals. “A masterclass in acting.”
“Ten points to Hufflepuff,” Tom says.
I smile, even if residual nerves swim in my stomach. “What’s with the Harriet hate?” I ask Tom. “She sounds nice.”
