The attendant's eyes widened and she took a nervous step backward.
Less
maniacal.
"Rowan?" I wasn't sure which Finn spoke but I focused my attention on Rita..
"I'm so sorry," I said. "I think I dropped my bracelet when I got off the plane from . . ." I surreptitiously looked up at the arrivals board. ". . . Bismarck."
Rita's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Lost and found is—"
"I checked already. No luck." I tried to look pathetic. I was pretty sure it wasn't a long trip. "Please, I just need to get on the jetway and look for it. I'll be quick, I promise," I said, not giving her a chance to interrupt me. "It was my grandmother's and it really means so much to me."
The woman still didn't look convinced, but she grabbed a pad of paper and a pen. "Perhaps you can describe the bracelet and I'll ch—"
"No!"
Rita jumped, her jaw twitching. I really needed to calm down.
The line of passengers emerging from the jetway doors slowed to a trickle. There wasn't much time left.
"I need to look," I said, forcing another pleading smile. "It's so small . . . delicate. You have to know what you're looking for."
"I'm sor—"
"Please. It'll only take a minute!"
Rita hesitated, almost like she was considering my request, then an older couple approached the desk, tickets in hand, and her face hardened.
"I'm sorry, but I can't allow unticketed passengers past the gate." She dismissed me by turning to the couple. "May I help you?"
I shoved my way in front of them, muttering apologies. "Please," I said, not averse to begging, "I need to get on that jetway."
"Miss, if you don't step back, I'm going to have to call Security," Rita replied. Another flight attendant, male and about six feet tall, took that moment to appear and glower at me over her shoulder.
I glanced through the open doors at the last few passengers disembarking from the plane.
"Rowan?"
I turned to walk away, Finn at my heels as I whispered into the phone. "They won't let me past the gate."
"What are we going to do? The flight attendants are headed this way. I can only pretend to fight with my carry-on for so long."
I scanned the area, desperate, panic trickling its way up my spine. I had to do something.
"Maybe we should just buy a ticket for the next flight," Other Finn suggested.
"There's no time," I murmured, a plan already forming as I watched Rita announce the boarding call for the adjoining gate, and passengers started to line up, dragging their carry-ons and crying children behind them.
"Get close to the door," I told Finn.
"What are you going to do?"
"Create a distraction."
"Ro—"
"Go!" I snapped. "We're almost out of time."
Finn chewed on his lip for a second, then nodded abruptly. I watched as he walked toward the windows and edged his way closer to the open doors leading to the jetway.
"Ro?"
"It's under control," I said quietly into the phone. "Be ready. He'll be there."
"Who?"
"One sec."
I took a deep breath to center myself, then strode up to a man in a black suit, grabbed his rolling carry-on, and turned to walk away.
"Hey!" he shouted.
I kept walking.
"Miss! Stop!"
I quickened my steps, looking over my shoulder only long enough to see Finn slip behind the barricade and through the doors.
"Go now!" I shouted into the phone. "Get to that spot, Finn— and think about how much you want to be home. How much you want to be with me."
"What?"
"Please, just do it," I said, dodging a stack of suitcases, then dropping the carry-on as I broke out into a run. "Think about me, Finn. Don't stop, okay?"
"Okay, I'm here. I'm at the spot," he said.
"Keep thinking of me," I replied, as two huge men in a golf cart with flashing lights sped toward me. "Don't stop, not matter what. I love you!" I hung up and hoped for the best.
I had to say one thing about security at Sea-Tac airport: They were fast. Efficient.
And strong as hell.
1:14 AM
I was a criminal.
I'd been detained and questioned, and had to explain that I had thought the man in the black suit had grabbed my luggage by mistake. It was so late and I was exhausted, and I was really sorry and I promised not to do it again if they'd just cut me a little slack this one time.
In the end, they released me, returned my bag and my phone, and escorted me to the doors with a repeated warning not to return to the airport anytime soon.
Oh yeah, and I was on the No-Fly List.
Perfect
.
"Ro, are you okay?" Finn pushed off the wall and approached us, hesitating when the two officers holding my arms glared at him. "What are you doing with her?"
"Finn, it's okay," I said, searching his features as they dragged me along. I wanted to know if it worked— if he was my Finn, but I could hardly bring it up as I was being forcibly removed from the premises.
"Is this really necessary?" Finn asked, walking quickly alongside us.
Another glare, and Finn shrugged at me, cramming his hands in his pockets as we made our way to the parking garage. They let me go, watching with arms crossed and intimidation at an all-time high as we got into my car and drove slowly out of the garage. Once we hit open air, I checked my rear-view mirror and pulled over, turning to Finn.
I hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. If he was my Finn, he'd expect me to welcome him home. But if he was the other Finn . . .
He sighed. "It didn't work."
My heart sank.
"I made it onto the jetway," he said, "found the exact spot and visualized my ass off." He smiled when I snorted. "But nothing happened."
I slumped back into my seat, then stiffened. "Crap," I muttered, fumbling in my bag for my phone. The police had taken it and turned it off, and when I turned it back on, I winced when I saw four voicemails waiting for me. One was from Lindsay, wondering how things had gone. The other three, as expected, were from Finn, wondering where I was, and sounding progressively more irritated. He finally said he'd take a cab home and call me later.
I closed my eyes against frustrated and exhausted tears.
"You okay?" Finn asked gently.
"Not really."
It was quiet for a long moment, then I felt him take my hand. I looked over at him, blinking away the wetness in my eyes. "What are we going to do?" I asked.
He took a deep breath. "Get some sleep," he said. "And tomorrow, we'll figure it out."
It was several minutes before I nodded and pulled away from the curb.
1:57 AM
I drove in silence, both of us exhausted and frustrated as I navigated the all-but-abandoned freeway and took the exit to the U-District. I could feel Finn looking over at me now and then, but I didn't know what to say to him.
I pulled up to his apartment building and he cleared his throat.
"It's late," he said. He sounded nervous, unsure. It filled me with sadness. "You want to just stay here tonight?"
I nodded and turned off the car, unable to even summon the energy to form words. I followed him into the building, my feet dragging, scuffing along the sidewalk and kicking up rocks. We trudged up the stairs, ignoring the out-of-order elevator, and I felt the weight of every step, the urge to just lie down on the landing and go to sleep.
Finn took my hand without a word, and unexpected tears sprung up in my eyes.
What were we going to do? I didn't say it out loud, but it echoed in my head, over and over again. A question that had no answer. Or at least not an answer that I could face.
Finn was trapped in that other reality, and I was left with someone else. Someone so much like the man I fell in love with, but not him. Could I face a future with him? Or give him up for a relationship with a man I could only communicate with over an outdated cell phone?
Then there was the other me— another Rowan who, as far as I knew, had no idea that the Finn in her world wasn’t really hers. I knew he would find her at some point, and couldn’t keep down a hot rush of jealousy at the thought.
My head swam, tears trickling down my face as I bowed my head so Finn wouldn't see.
"Ro?" His voice was gentle. "It'll be okay."
I choked on a laugh. "How?"
He didn't answer, but unlocked the door and pulled me inside as my phone rang.
I jumped, scrambling for it in my bag, and let out a heavy breath when I saw it was Lindsay.
"Hello?" I collapsed onto Finn's couch.
"Hello? That's all you have to say is, ‘Hello?’" Lindsay snapped. "I've been waiting here out of my mind. I knew I should have come with you."
"Yeah, then you could have been put on the No-Fly List too," I muttered.
"What? You're kidding!"
"I wish I was." I smiled in gratitude when Finn handed me a bottle of water. "But, long story short, no. It didn't work."
"Crap."
"Yeah."
"So . . . what now?"
I leaned back and closed my eyes, rubbing at my forehead. "I have no idea." I jolted and sat up. "Oh no, what's the date?"
"Umm . . . the thirteenth. Why?"
"Ugh." I collapsed onto my side and curled up in a ball. "I forgot to call my mom. Today— well, yesterday— was the anniversary of my dad's death. It's always tough on her."
I heard a gasp, but I wasn't sure if it was Lindsay or Finn, who was watching me from his own seat on the recliner.
"Linds?"
"You . . . " She took a shaky breath. "Did you say you're supposed to call your mom?"
"Well, yeah." I sat up, uneasiness trickling down my spine. "I thought I'd set a reminder on my phone, but with all the craziness I must ha—"
"Ro?" Lindsay was quiet. Finn stared at me, his mouth half-open, face pale.
"What is it?" I asked, not sure who I was talking to.
Lindsay replied, "Ro, you told me your mom died in a car accident when you were thirteen."
"What?"
"You don't like to talk about it much, but you said—"
"What are you talking about?" I shot to my feet, frantically searching the room for . . . . something. I didn’t know what. "My mom lives in Salinas. She moved there after dad died to be closer to her sisters."
"Ro—" I hung up on Lindsay, not wanting to hear anything more.
"Something's wrong," I muttered, scrolling through my contacts with shaking hands.
"What is it?" Finn asked.
"I think Lindsay's switched too," I said, cursing when I dropped the phone on the couch. I snatched it up and searched my contacts for my mother's number. "Where is it?"
"What are you looking for, Ro?" Finn's voice was quiet, tentative.
"My mom's number!" I all but shrieked, desperation racing through my veins, pounding and harsh. "Someone deleted her number."
"Ro—"
"No!" I shouted as the phone tumbled from my fingers, bouncing on the couch before it hit the floor. "Don't say it."
"Ro, she's gone. She died when you—"
"No," I screamed. "No, that's not right. No." Finn got up and took a step toward me and I held up my hands. "No!" I backed away . . . around the couch, down the hall. "No!" Into his bedroom and back, back, into the closet. They were wrong. They had to be wrong. How many of them were switched? More than Finn and Lindsay? What about the rest of my family? My other friends? What if nobody was who I thought they were?
I dropped to the floor and pulled in my knees, curled up on my side in the closet amidst Finn's— the
wrong
Finn's— shoes and discarded clothes. My mom was fine. She was alive. She was waiting for me to call, and probably would give me hell when—"
"Ro?"
It was Finn. The wrong Finn. The false Finn. But I didn't have to listen to him. This was wrong. It was all wrong.
Tears streamed down my face, dampening the carpet under my cheek as I clenched my eyes shut against the world, against the wrongness of it all.
"Rowan, please!"
I opened my eyes, the world blurry until I blinked, and the edge of the closet door came into focus, the corner of the chest of drawers, its wooden legs pressed into the carpet, and . . . something stuffed underneath.
Something fabric. Something . . . white.
I crawled forward a bit and reached out for it, Finn's voice fading to the background as blood rushed in my ears. I pulled out the mass of fabric and stared at it, my mind racing to make sense of what I was seeing.
A shirt.
A
white
shirt.
With a coffee stain on the cuff.
Finn dropped to his knees before me, hands twitching on his thighs like he wanted to reach out and touch me, comfort me, but didn't know if he was allowed.
"You found it," he whispered.
I nodded jerkily.
"That means . . . " I could hear him swallow and looked up to meet his gaze, drawing a heavy breath as I brushed the tears from my eyes.
"It means it's not you who's in the wrong place," I said, words raspy, as if struggling to leave my throat. "It's not you, and it's not Lindsay."
"Ro." He reached out to take my hand and I held it tightly, needing the comfort.
"It's me," I said finally.
"Yeah."
He tugged on my hand and I fell into his embrace, shuddering when he stroked my hair, murmuring words of consolation.
"I want to go home," I mumbled against his chest, the stained shirt still clutched in my fingers.
"I know." He pulled back and grabbed my shoulders, looking into my eyes. "We'll figure this out."
"How?"
"Finn will call in the morning."
"Maybe," I muttered. "He's pretty angry at me for not meeting his flight."
"He's going to figure out something's wrong when he sees you— the other you," Finn clarified, shaking his head. "He’ll track her down and when she has no idea what he's talking about, he'll figure it out. He’ll figure it out and he'll call."
"Then what?"
He shrugged. "I think we had the right idea the first time— just the wrong people. We try it again, with you and the other Rowan. But to do that . . ." He winced when he met my gaze.