Chapter 49
Aubrey
Thursday Morning
Seven Days After the Outing
The Day AIM Should Go Public
Aubrey knows exactly what to do, but she keeps messing up. She keeps scratching at the back of her hand and now she’s drawn
blood and she doesn’t have a Band-Aid and she’s wearing this outfit labeled “Special Occasion, Summer” and she doesn’t want
to get blood on the white-flowered skirt.
She blots the blood with the side of Harley’s leash and whispers an apology and a promise to buy him a new one. He lies at
her feet in agreement, and she doesn’t hesitate, she knocks twice and fast like the beating of her heart.
Dark hair rumpled, bare chest creased from bedsheets, eyes still crusted with sleep, Kai furrows his brow in confusion. He’s
not the reason she stayed, but she hopes he’ll become one of the reasons she’s glad she did.
“Aubrey, what time—”
She hands him the succulent with the pink tips.
“It’s 6:23 a.m. I’ve always liked numbers.
They’re concrete. They just make sense to me.
There’s no need for a pro-con list, no weighing of options.
There’s a right, and there’s a wrong. But deciding which flavor of yogurt to have for breakfast?
I give up and make do with the dregs of the latest vendor-sent bribe of a gift basket at work.
Jerky, by the way, it’s always the jerky. ”
“Aubrey, I—”
“Life isn’t like coding, it’s not an algorithm, and I’ve never known how to deal with that.”
His hand rises to smooth his messy hair, and his grandmother’s bracelet glides down his arm. “We all make mistakes. And I
told you, I’m cool. This wasn’t a mistake for me. I understand if it was for you, but—”
“That’s the thing. It wasn’t. But it also—” She was going to say it wasn’t her choice, but that’s not really true. Mallory
may have made the rules and Aubrey may have followed them, but the choice, the choice of Kai in the game, that was all hers.
And it led her here. To this place she decided to stay in, not knowing what would happen. But she’s herself, with all her
memories of the world she came from, with all the memories of the past week of being here. Nothing before it. It’s scary.
It’s also okay. Especially since, deep down, somehow she is sure that in some other world, the Aubrey of here lives a different
path, another version of this life they all share. “I wasn’t sure it was something I could trust.”
“And, what, you’re sure now?”
“It’s not that simple.” She takes her time. And that’s okay. In this place, with Kai, she trusts the way she feels and the
way he makes her feel. Like she isn’t playing a supporting role in her own life. “I spent my life waiting for everyone else
to take the lead. But now here, with this . . . I like you. I’d like to see if there’s something here.”
At that, Harley pops up and circles three times before settling himself on Kai’s foot.
Kai’s head tilts down. “Totally cheating. You do realize that?”
“I’m playing the odds.”
“Yeah, well, you warned me you were good with numbers.”
Kai begins to tug her into his apartment, where she really, really wants to go. She places her palm on his bare chest and
nothing has felt so right since the day she forced herself out of that bathroom stall at the start-up program to have lunch
with Mallory and Ilena. Which is why she taps his chest and then presses the leash into his hand.
“Let’s see how you do with numbers,” Aubrey says. “Walk him at nine, noon, and three. Feed him at four. Walk at five.”
“But I thought . . .” His brow furrows before he nods in understanding. “The direct listing. You must have a thousand things
to do. Let me know if there’s anything I can help with.”
Ethan never said anything like that. And if he had, it’d have been with the assumption that she needed help, more a statement
about what she lacked rather than what he wanted to give.
“Today’s going to require some David Copperfield–level magic to make everything happen, but after . . . dinner. Takeout. I
don’t know what time but—”
“I’ll be here.”
“Me too.” She’s so glad she is.
“But, Aubrey, who’s David Copperfield?”
Young, so very young, but it’ll be fun to teach him things.
Once she’s back on the street, she calls Noreen, who answers instantly. “Big day!”
“Very. Because we made a decision.” Aubrey’s never used the royal “we” before. As she walks to the subway, she explains what
she needs Noreen to do.
“I’ll see to it faster than small-town gossip,” Noreen says.
Aubrey pauses before hanging up. She knows how it feels to be an outsider. “Lunch soon? All of us?”
“Oh, that’s . . . nice, just real nice. Thank you, Ms. Miller.”
“Aubrey. It’s Aubrey, and I’m sorry not to ask sooner. We’ve been a bit too self-absorbed lately.”
“Aren’t we all?”
Aubrey lets herself into the condo, holding her breath. Mallory’s lying on the sofa. When Aubrey shuts the door, Mallory’s
eyes flutter open.
“I’m still drunk.” She groans. “Am I still drunk?” She sits up, clutches her head, looks down at her jumpsuit. “Oh shit.”
Aubrey’s chest seizes. It didn’t work. This is still her Mallory, her Mallory who hates the color of—
“What is this?” Mallory licks her index finger and rubs the fabric. “Hot sauce? Did we even eat anything last night? Dammit,
my favorite jumpsuit too.”
Mallory lifts her head, meets Aubrey’s eye. “Are you . . . Did you stay here last night?”
“No, I didn’t. But Ilena—”
“Here.” Ilena pads out of the bedroom in a white faux fur robe that doesn’t quite close thanks to her round stomach. “Did
my no-booze willpower break? I feel like I did when I shattered my record for most Jell-O shots in one night.”
“New Year’s Eve, 2005. Epic before epic was a thing.” Mallory presses a hand to her temple. “But when did we get home? I don’t
remember getting home.”
Aubrey sits in the armchair across from her. “What do you remember?”
“The last thing?” Mallory contemplates. “A lot’s jumbled, but I’m clear on the outing that we just had—”
“A week ago.” Aubrey places her phone on the coffee table so she can show them the date.
Mallory’s brow furrows as she looks to Ilena, who excitedly totters forward and sinks into the couch beside Mallory. She points to the date on the phone. “Ooh, is this a prank? Did Felix set this up? Like some kind of babymoon bachelorette party.”
“Splendid opportunity to message that stripper I accidentally swiped right on,” Mallory says.
“Accidentally, my hemorrhoidal ass,” Ilena cries. “Bring it, Aubrey!”
Jonah’s theory of coherence link gave a hypothetical reason for how the transfer between universes could happen. But he didn’t
know what it might mean for their consciousnesses, for who would know what, who might remember what. He did say one set of
memories might supplant another. That’s what it seems has happened, leaving nothing but a blank in this Ilena’s and this Mallory’s
memories. Jonah also seems to be spot-on about the improbability of a “swap.” These women didn’t “go” into Aubrey’s original
world—or if Jonah is wrong and they did, they have no memory of it. For them, it’s as if the past week didn’t exist. Aubrey
was right that they’d need her.
She’s going to have to tell them everything. “Um, it’s none of those things. The outing really was last week.”
“Christ cakes, what was in those drinks?” Mallory says. “I haven’t been this fuzzy since homecoming freshman year. Weed gummies
and blackberry schnapps. Don’t, take it from me, and just, don’t.” She nuzzles Ilena’s stomach. “Did you hear that, Singleton?
I got your back, kiddo.”
Aubrey tries to cover her surprise at Mallory’s enthusiasm. Ilena, though, taps her belly and says, “Listen to your aunt.
Well, not on everything, but this, yes, listen.” She then shoves Mallory off. “Aubrey’s just doing a test run for the listing.
If I promise not to let Mallory drink so much the night before that, can we skip this?” Ilena reaches for the TV remote. “The
humidity, is it going to be like this all day?”
“Ilena, wait—” Aubrey says, but on the screen is Shandy Shane, the AIM logo hovering next to her head with an X through it.
“What the hell?” Mallory says. “Turn it up.”
Eyebrows pinched, Shandy Shane begins, “Frowns all around this morning as the news comes in that Wall Street darling AIM has gotten cold feet. In a move that industry
experts call ‘unprecedented’ and ‘alarming,’ AIM has canceled its direct listing mere hours before it was to begin. While
no official statement has been made by AIM or its founders, it’s hard to imagine this last-minute decision and the shocking
news of the death of one of the company’s largest investors are unrelated. For more on—”
“Investor? Who?” Mallory leaps off the sofa, jarring Ilena. “My phone, where’s my phone? I’m always losing that damn thing.
This has to be a mistake, all of it. Or a PR stunt? Ooh, that company we hired must be building buzz. Especially because today
isn’t the day of the listing, it’s only . . .” Her eyes fall on the date on the television screen. “That’s not . . . Aubrey,
you aren’t doing a test run?”
Ilena’s glowing cheeks dull. “I should call Felix. He must be able to explain . . . Is that my suitcase?” As she turns, her
hand reflexively goes to push hair off her shoulder but meets only with air. “Did someone cut my hair?”
“We’re all looking for answers,” Shandy Shane continues as a photograph of Mallory and Grayson appears on the screen. “But they won’t come from CEO Mallory Latham. The live interview with Ms. Latham and Mr. Fields that was to air tomorrow has
been canceled.” Shandy’s face turns grim. She presses a finger to her earpiece. “But what’s this?” She pauses, listening, or pretending to listen. What she’s about to say reached the morning show before the program began.
Noreen assured Aubrey it would. “In an unexpected turn, the behind-the-scenes cofounder we see so little of, Aubrey Miller, will be joining us next week.
So the plot thickens, AIMers, and you can be sure of one thing. You’ll see it unravel here first. In other news—”
Aubrey shuts off the television.
“Aubrey, The Shandy Shane Show?” Mallory circles the coffee table. “You’re going to be on it? I was supposed to be on it? With Grayson? I’d need an outfit. Did I have an outfit? Hot damn, the PR team nailed it! Ella was
right to have us hire them. But they canceled? I don’t understand. Ilena?”
Her palm bounces against the short ends of her hair. “I’m . . . confused.”
Aubrey lifts herself out of the armchair to stand beside Mallory. “This isn’t the way I wanted you to find out, but it might
actually make this easier.” She looks at Mallory and then Ilena. “Let me just confirm, the last thing you both clearly remember
is the outing?”
Mallory nods, as does Ilena, who says, “Aubrey, what does that have to do with all this?”
“Everything.” A ding comes from Aubrey’s phone. A text from Ethan.
Mallory slips on her reading glasses and reaches for the phone. “Ethan Sonders?”
Aubrey’s cheeks grow hot. “It’s nothing. It has nothing to do with this. Let’s just focus on—”
Mallory bites her bottom lip. “Ethan Sonders. Why does that name sound familiar?”
Aubrey tries to reclaim her phone. “We went on a date, a few months ago.”
“The tech guy?” Ilena struggles to push herself out of the soft couch. “The one you met when you bumped into him outside our
office? Wait, are you dating again?” As Aubrey’s hand wraps around the phone, Ilena grabs her wrist. “Aubrey! Is this a tattoo?
Why didn’t we all go? Get matching ones?”
Aubrey’s phone dings with another text. This one from Noreen. She quickly swipes.
Noreen: The police called me in for questioning. I’m worried I may need a lawyer. Mallory’s going to need one too. And still all
I can think is poor Grayson. Oh, and y’all need anything? I’ve got my mom’s muesli muffin recipe memorized!
“Aubrey . . .” Mallory says slowly, apparently having read over Aubrey’s shoulder.
“It’s going to be all right,” Aubrey says. One hand takes Mallory’s, and the other intertwines with Ilena’s as she leads them
back to the couch. “I think you should both sit down.”
And—as if Aubrey being in charge isn’t unusual—they do.