A Thousand Pieces of You

“Okay. It’s okay.” Paul pulls me closer, but not in passion. Instead he rubs my back, slow and gentle, comforting me as I struggle against tears and think of the Paul I lost.

Am I betraying him now? Or am I being a fool, because the man I loved has basically come back to life but I can’t love him again?

“You’re not crazy,” Paul murmurs. “This situation—it’s hard to know what to think. What to feel.”

I nod. His lips brush my hairline, almost too gently to even be called a kiss, as he keeps stroking my back.

Then we hear the crackle of a walkie-talkie—which means the police.

We both go tense at the same moment, hanging on to each other as the officer wanders along the platform. If she even saw us kissing, she gives no sign. This is just a standard patrol . . . I hope. “They’re not coming after us. Why would they be?”

“Conley could have made Theo call the car in as stolen. He might even have argued that I abducted you. Whatever it took to get you back under his control. By now he probably realizes you’re not going to the Dragon Gate.”

Paul has a point. We have no more time to lose. I say, “This Paul needs to get away. You have to go.”

“Right. Okay.” He hesitates one moment longer. I know he wants to kiss me; I can’t tell whether I want him to or not. He doesn’t.

For a moment we both straighten ourselves—me smoothing my curls back from my face, Paul untucking his T-shirt. A smudge of lipstick is deep pink against his cheek, and I reach out to wipe it off with my thumb. He looks at me, smiling at the touch.

But the smile fades quickly. “Go home,” he says. “Tell Sophia what’s going on, and wait for me there.”

I’ve been so overwhelmed I almost forgot that he’s still keeping secrets from me. “I’ll tell Mom what’s going on as soon as I know. Tell me where you’re going.”

“Not yet.”

“But you found the right dimension! You got all this background information on Triad and Conley! What else is there to do?”

“When I went through Triad’s information here, I found—something I need to check out. Let’s leave it at that.”

I didn’t know it was possible to go from making out with someone to wanting to smack them upside the head, hard, in less than a minute—but here we are. “You’re still keeping secrets from me. Still.”

“Marguerite—”

“No more secrets! I don’t know how much more screwed up things have to get before you finally see that.”

“Please listen.” Paul takes my hand and leans close; the way he looks at me isn’t like a guy making an excuse—he’s steady, and strong, and almost maddeningly sure of himself. “I know I’ve made mistakes, keeping so much from you, but this is different. If I tell you what I’m thinking now, and I’m wrong, it would be terrible. No, beyond even that. It would be the most hurtful thing I could ever do to you.”

What is he talking about? I can’t begin to imagine. How much deeper do Triad’s crimes go?

Paul’s fingers tighten around mine. “I know you’ve had to take a lot on faith. You’ll never realize what it means, that you regained your trust in me. That you can still believe. But I need you to keep believing a little while longer.”

I can’t even begin to tell him how sick I am of being in the dark. And yet—despite everything—I believe him.

“Okay. All right. Fine.” Believing Paul isn’t the same thing as doing whatever he says. “You don’t have to explain if it’s that important, but I’m coming with you.”

Paul turns my hand over in his, brushes against my palm with his thumb. “I’d feel much better if I knew you were safe.”

This isn’t about your feelings, I want to say, but I know Paul’s been through as much as I have these past few weeks. We’re both at the brink; that’s why we need each other to keep ourselves strong, to make ourselves see clearly. “Wyatt Conley is chasing me through different dimensions, right? That means I’m safest when I’m with you.”

“You’re extremely stubborn.”

“Guess you’d better get used to that.”

He smiles despite himself. That expression—it’s nothing like the Paul from Russia. It belongs to my Paul alone, and yet it seems to light me up inside.

“Let’s go,” Paul says. I reach for my Firebird, but he stops me. “Not yet. I’m going to walk into the airport and get my boarding pass before I leap out. Otherwise the other Paul might not realize what’s going on in time.”

“Okay. Wait fifteen minutes?”

“Fifteen minutes, then follow me.”

Guess I might as well stay in the BART station. After hauling this version of Marguerite all the way to the far side of San Francisco, I ought to at least make it easier for her to get home again. For a moment I think about messaging Theo to let him know what’s going on, but that’s not necessary; his Firebird will signal that Paul and I have jumped ahead, and Theo will surely follow.

So we’re done. Yet for a moment longer Paul and I stand there in the darkness, overcome with our new knowledge of each other, and the realization that in five minutes we might be half a world apart again.

Paul adjusts his duffel bag, his gray eyes searching mine. “You’re all right?”

“As all right as I’m going to be for a while. Just—be careful.”