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“Listen.” I brace my hands on the countertop and paste on the most perfectly normal, definitely-not-having-a-meltdown smile I can muster. “I’m having a rough morning. Can you add an extra espresso shot to my drink? I think I need it.”
“Drink’s on me, Gemma with aG.” He winks and clicks his fingers at me.
Before I can protest, I’m ousted from the cash line by a pointy-elbowed toddler-mom, and Snake is moving on to his next customer.
Free coffee in hand, I take a seat at my favorite table by the window and refuse to let myself think about my dilemma until I’ve made it three-quarters of the way through it. By that time, the double shot hits my bloodstream. I’m feeling slightly more focused and ready to tackle the facts.
Last night we performed a spell. Or a cleanse. Or a ritual sacrifice involving jerk chicken and possibly my reality. This morning I woke up, and it’s as if I’ve lived the last four years of my life without Stuart. That part doesn’t seem too awful. Except in erasing Stuart, I’ve somehow extracted Dax from my life, which is an utter and total catastrophe.
I pinch myself one last time. Mostly because I have no other ideas to confirm that what I think is happening is actually happening.
Our spell caused a rift in the universe. We created a hot tub time machine without an actual hot tub.
I still can’t believe it. I’m, like, 84 percent of the way there. The other sixteen thinks there might be a possibility that I have suffered some sort of emotional block brought on by the breakup with Stuart. Except, as much as I hate that my sister was completely right, I’m no longer that emotionally torn up that Stuart and I are over. But if that is the case, there is only one person who will tell me straight up, without any attempt to sugarcoat things.
The phone rings twice before she answers.
“Hey. Hold on for a second. The little one just pulled a knife from the dishwasher, and I’m not entirely sure if she intends to use it as a weapon.”
A full minute and a half passes before Kiersten’s voice comes back on the line.
“All good. What’s up? Are we debriefingThe Bachelorfrom last night? Because I passed out halfway and still need to watch the ending.”
Excellent start. Kiersten is still Kiersten.
“I am going to ask you some questions,” I tell her. “I need you to humor me and answer them and not ask why or get weirded out. Okay?”
“Sounds ominous, but I’m in.”
I rack my brain for the right place to start. “Did we hang out last night?”
There’s background noise that sounds like her kids yelling. Then the soft click of a door closing, followed by notable silence. “No. You were supposed to be going out to some new bar downtown with a couple of your friends. Didn’t that happen?”
I have no idea. However, it fits with the timeline and why another Gemma was doing naked snow angels in the wee hours of the morning.
“Question two: Do the names Daxon McGuire and Stuart Holliston mean anything to you?”
Another long pause before she answers. “Is one of them that guy you sleep with sometimes? Except I thought his name was Connor or possibly Salvatore.”
“Those are very different names, and no, Stuart and Dax are both guys I know very well. You sure you don’t know them?”
She sighs on the other end. “I don’t think so. You date a lot of guys, Gems. It’s hard to keep track.”
No, I don’t. Or maybe now I do?
One last shot before I accept my fate.
“On a scale of one to ten, how solid is my grasp on reality?”
There’s a very distinctive snort, and I can practically hear my sister rolling her eyes. “Normally a strong eight and a half, but you’ve lost a few points with this weird line of questioning. What’s going on with you?”
I’m now 97 percent sure I’ve accidentally altered history.
“Are you busy this morning? I’m having a bit of a personal dilemma. Can you meet me at Aunt Livi’s in an hour?”
“Yeah…” My sister’s voice trails off. “Yeah. Trent is off today. I can see if he can stay here with the baby.”
There’s a noticeable pause on her end of the line. “You’re okay, though, right? You’re not about to tell me you’re dying? Or pregnant?”
