Page 22 of What If It's You?

So much for my dream job. Clearly I wastrying—even if they were duds, a handful of graveyarded books was better than nothing—but I couldn’t shake the feeling that with everything lined up for success, I should have done more by now.

Frustrated, I snapped the laptop closed. I could try to dive into the project that this-world me was working on, but honestly…it felt uninspiring. How, with all the time I could want and a picture-perfect life to return to at the end of the day, could I be this hopelesslystuck?

God, I needed Ollie to wrap his arms around me right now and tell me…What would he tell me? Not that everything was going to be okay—he didn’t do pat assurances, didn’t believe everything alwayswouldbe okay.

And anyway, Ollie wasn’t here.

But there was someone here who I knew would listen, would be in my corner, would make me feel, if not better, then at least cared for. Would remind me that helikedtaking care of me—god, what a simple, utterly foreign concept.

Maybe that kind of support was what I’d needed all along.

The Pixel building was only a ten-minute walk from the café, so I decided to head straight over. I’d worried that walking into the building would have a funhouse mirror effect—or worse, activate some weird buried programming and boot me into yet another life—but it looked exactly the same as always, the soaring ceilings and double-helix staircases picked out in bright primary colors reassuringly familiar. I started for the stairs, planning to meet Drew at the Lightning offices, but was stopped short by a loud cough.

“Sorry, can I help you?”

Mark had been working the front desk at Pixel almost as long as I’d been there, his infectious laugh and incredible memory for faces the perfect public face for the company.

But he clearly didn’t knowme.

“Hey, Mark. It’s Laurel. Everett?” I grinned awkwardly.

“Hi, Laurel. Did you have a meeting?” His smile was warm, but I couldn’t help but notice his hand had slid under the desktop.

“Uh, no. Not officially. I was just hoping to surprise my boyfriend for lunch.” He continued staring at me, his expectant smile unwavering. “Drew Bevins? He works on Lightning.”

“Oh, of course,Laurel. I knew you were familiar. It’s been forever, girl, how are you?” Mark turned his full attention to his screen. I forced myself not to frown—was I that forgettable? I’d been working here just eighteen months ago. “One sec, let me just let him know you’re here.”

He tapped away at the keyboard. I could feel impatience and anxiety coiling in my stomach.This was a stupid idea.

“I can just go up and grab him. I know how he gets when he’s in the zone.”

“I’m sorry, my better half called out today, and I can’t really leave the desk long enough to swipe you through to his office.” Mark gave an exaggerated, pouty frown. “But don’t worry, he already responded. He’ll be down in a sec, if you want to grab a seat.”

“Sure. Thanks.” I moved over to the suite of inverted pyramids that served as chairs, all of them in the same primary colors as the stairways, the bottoms bolted to the floor through an area rug to give the sense that they were balancing, impossibly, on their points. I’d never really looked at the office from this vantage point, as a visitor. It made me notice different things.

A few minutes later Drew trotted down the stairs, forehead crinkled with worry.

“Laurel. Is everything alright?” His voice was low as he approached me. He crouched in front of my seat, taking both my hands in his, and a surge of tenderness dissolved some of the tension I’d been holding in my neck and shoulders. I wasn’t sure which Laurel that was stemming from, whether it was one of those muscle memory remnants that seemed to exist in this body—my body?Regardless, I leaned forward to hug him tightly, exhaling gratefully as his strong arms wrapped around me.

“I’m fine, really,” I murmured, breathing in the sweet, milky scent of the Dove soap I knew, somehow, he showered with. There was something endearing about the fact that Drew clearly made enough money to afford what had to be a ludicrously expensive condo but still showered with the soap he’d used as a kid in Ames, Iowa. “I’m sorry, I should have texted.” A tiny thrum of guilt went through me—I’d known, without knowing how, that if I had texted, Drew would have told me not to come. “I’ve just been having a weird morning and I thought maybe we could get lunch.”

“Oh, umm…sure, yeah. Did you want to eat here, or…” He licked his upper lip, eyes darting up the staircase.

“Let’s grab sushi at Uni, I want it to just be us.”

Drew’s whole body relaxed. It was clear that he had the same preference but hadn’t wanted to let me down. Another surge of tenderness pulsed through me. Being here, with him, was the most normal—the mostreal—I’d felt all day.

It didn’t fix everything, but at least it was a start.

Drew kept side-eyeing me anxiously during the entire walk to the sushi place, hand drifting to the small of my back protectively at every crosswalk. I let it comfort me—general protectiveness wasn’t going to help me write a halfway decent book, but that wasn’t the only thing that could make me happy. Hell, six hours ago I didn’t even know I wastryingto achieve that.

We snagged a corner booth and ordered, then Drew leaned across the table, taking my right hand in his and rubbing his thumb slowly across my knuckles, his large blue eyes locked on to mine.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Laurel?” He squeezed my hand once, and the warmth of his touch flowed into me. That morning I’d been so confused by seeing Drew in my bed that even casualconversation had felt like walking a tightrope, but right now, his gentle, attentive presence was a balm. “Not that I’m not excited to see you—I am. But you showing up at the office is a little…”

“Out of character?” I leaned forward, watching for anything, even the tiniest change in expression, that could give me a hint to whatincharacter looked like here.

“You could say that. You were so emphatic about wanting a clean break after you left.”

---