Page 14 of What If It's You?

Drewhadsaid the program was still glitchy…

Let’s try something different. Please look at the blue pentagon.

Sighing, I tugged the cap off my head and carefully placed the rig on the desk, then force-quit the setup program and logged out of Drew’s computer. Even if ithadworked, I wouldn’t have learned enough to know what to do next in my real life. Still, I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t disappointed. Some part of me had been convinced that this would make everything clear, that I would exit the building knowing what to do next.

Instead, I made my way outside and started walking toward our apartment. The night had turned chilly and I hugged my arms around my body, wishing I’d thought to bring a coat. The streetlamps along Cambridge Street flickered ominously, and the windows of the bars and restaurants I passed were misted over, the heat of all the life and camaraderie inside coalescing to form a protective barrier against the outside world. By the time I tiptoed up the creaky stairs in our apartment building, it was just after eleven. I whispered a silent prayer that I wouldn’t wake Sandy, our downstairs neighbor and landlady—Ollie and I appreciated her no-bullshit townie attitude and total lack of boundaries, but tonight, the thought of smiling through a volley of too-probing questions was almost physically painful. Luckily, whatever was on her TV must have drowned out the sound of my return, though I didn’t fully exhale until I’d flipped the deadbolt behind me.

The apartment was dark except for the series of nightlights between our bedroom and the bathroom. Ollie had bought thoseafter however many nights of my blinding myself in the bathroom, then banging my hip against the counter on my way back through the kitchen. Guilt pressed down on me anew—there were so many little things like that in our lives, tiny dioramas of love that you stopped noticing over time. But that was the problem—I knew we loved each othernow.What I couldn’t know was whether this thing we had would still be strong in five years, or ten, or whether all the good things, the sweet things, would fade into the background and resentment and restlessness and the daily emotional erosion that life wreaks on everyone would win.

How did anyone ever know whether what they had was enough? How did Ollie feel so sure? People always talked about how they’d justknownsomeone was right for them, a divine moment of intuition that guided them toward the life they were meant to have. But what did that feel like? If you hadn’t experienced it…was that proof that you were chasing the wrong thing? I didn’t even have anyone I could ask for advice; it’s not like I’d ever seen the version where things work out in the end.

I quickly washed my face, undressing in the dark and slipping into bed beside Ollie as quietly as possible. He waited until I was tucked in before speaking, voice low.

“Where did you go?”

“The office.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I just…” I pinched my eyes shut against the tears prickling there. “I’m sorry. For picking a fight at the restaurant, I mean. I don’t know what’s wrong with me sometimes.” It was nowhere near enough, crumbs for a mouse when what I really needed to do was evict the elephantine doubt crowding everything else out.

“I’m sorry too. I know I can get sensitive about job stuff. It’s hard not to feel a little…inadequate compared to you. I mean…anyone can teach guitar, you know?”

“That’s not true.” And it wasn’t. But I could tell by his tiny sigh that he didn’t believe me. I drew a shaky breath, swallowing hardagainst the tears that were leaking out now, not wanting him to hear me cry—I didn’t deserve the comfort my tears would elicit from him, when I knew that I was the one who’d soured a perfectly nice evening. An evening he’d probably hoped would be something so much more than just nice…

I reached my hand out beneath the covers, desperate for the feeling of him, needing the reassurance that even if I wasn’t ready for forever, he’d still be herenow. His hand was already there, like he’d been waiting for me, and his fingers laced through mine, squeezing tight.

“I love you, Lo,” he murmured. “I hope you always know that.”

“I love you too,” I choked out, breathing deep until the tears finally receded. I could feel the rhythm of his breaths grow slower and longer as he drifted off to sleep beside me. His hand was still holding mine, and that had to be worth something. I scooched over until my arm was pressed alongside his, our hands still loosely entwined, and finally fell asleep.

When I woke up, I felt better. Lighter, somehow. I took a few long, steadying breaths before opening my eyes, savoring the warmth of the sheets, the closeness, the few precious moments of unsullied comfort before doubt could creep back in.

When I did open them, the man lying next to me wasn’t Ollie.

It was Drew.

“What the…? No, no, no,fuck.” I scooted up the bed, back banging against the headboard with a muffled thump that I barely heard over the pounding of my blood in my ears.

“Mmm?” Drew’s face crinkled sleepily, and he squinted against the weak morning light seeping in from…I glanced around, frantically attempting to locate the window. Since when was it to my left? The window was supposed to be on my right side…right? And what were those curtains, heavy and dark and made out of something that looked like velvet? Where the fuckwasI, and had I just…what, ported here?

Drew yawned hugely, rolling onto his back and stretching his arms overhead. I inched farther from him, tugging the comforter—something fluffy and white, obviously luxury, not the handmade quilt Shelly had given Ollie and me when we moved in together—up to my neck.

Jesus Christ, was I wearing asatin nightgown?

“Laurel? What’s going on?” Drew reached a hand toward me beneath the covers, laying it on my thigh, and I yelped. He frowned,pushing up on an elbow and staring at me, the fog starting to lift. “Are you okay?”

“I…I just…” I licked my upper lip, trying to wrap my mind around what was happening. “How did I get here?”

“How did you get…where? Boston?” Drew cocked his head to the side, clearly baffled.

“No,here.” I pointed down. “In this bed. I don’t…Did I come over to your place last night, or…?” I sucked in a shaky breath, tears springing to my eyes. “I don’t understand what happened.”

“You’re starting to scare me, babe.” Drew sat all the way up, the comforter falling away to reveal his chest and abs. I couldn’t help but notice the hard ridges of muscle, a few curls of light brown hair tracing the center line. He reached over to wrap an arm around me and I startled, startling him in turn.

Somehow I’d woken up in the wrong bed, next to the wrong man, and he thought this was…normal? That I was supposed to be here? That I answered tobabe?

“Do I need to call someone? The doctor, or…I don’t know, your dad?”

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