Chapter 10
February 13, 2025
I drain the rest of the tea in my mug. Milo brews me another cup before downing the rest of his.
He lets out a satisfied “ahh” noise that sends goose bumps flying across my skin. It’s so guttural, so low. Has he ever made that noise around me before? I don’t remember him doing that. It’s so ... pleasant sounding. He rinses the mug and places it in the dishwasher. A bell sounds from the living room. I twist around and see Coco the cat hop down from her perch on the back of the sofa and trot over to me.
“Someone wants their morning cuddles,” Milo says.
I smile down at her before scooping her up and giving her chin a scratch. She purrs instantly. Amid all the chaos of this impossible time flip that’s turned my reality upside down, being able to cuddle a cat is a nice surprise.
Milo walks over to me and gently pats the top of her head. When he dusts a kiss on my cheek, I freeze. I lean back and out of his touch. It happens like a reflex. Something about this—about us, about Milo being physically intimate with me—feels ... not wrong. But different. Jarring.
When I look up at him, I take in his slightly raised brow. How he looks shocked.
I clear my throat. “Sorry, I just ... it’s just that it feels a little ...”
As I stammer, I notice the look in Milo’s eyes shifts from shocked to shy, then to hurt. A pang of guilt flashes through me.
“You’re not comfortable with me kissing you,” he says, his tone soft and resigned.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I know we’re ... together, but ...”
Just saying that feels wrong. I know that’s the reality of the situation—in this timeline, in this universe, Milo and I are together.
Just silently admitting that to myself has my nerves going haywire. Is this my life now? Will this ever end? Will one day I wake up and start living life forward again? Or will I wake up on some random day in the future? Or god ... will I be like Benjamin Button and live my entire life backward?
I start to feel lightheaded at the thought of the rest of my life being that random, that chaotic and disorienting ...
I press my eyes shut for a second to ground myself. When I open my eyes, I look at Milo.
“I’m sorry to give such mixed signals,” I say. “I guess I’m still getting used to this. To us. Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe we ended up together.”
I regret the words as soon as I say them. I sound so harsh. But to my surprise, Milo’s expression softens. He still looks sad, but he looks like he understands how I feel too.
“You’re right. It’s definitely weird, the two of us ending up together. A lot of people think so.”
I instantly think of Milo’s family ... who’s also Tristan’s family. God, they must fucking loathe me now.
I swallow back the fresh wave of nerves firing through me at that thought.
“You’re probably feeling that way because of tomorrow,” Milo says.
I frown. “What do you mean?”
He swallows, like he’s unsure of what he’s about to say. “Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day. Yours and Tristan’s anniversary. With that coming up, I can understand how you’d be feeling a bit hesitant about things.”
“Oh. Right.” Tomorrow ... which already happened in my timeline. “Yeah, I guess I’m a bit hung up on that,” I say quickly.
“We should head out of the city. Get away for the day, take your mind off things,” he says.
And that explains why I woke up to Milo driving my car out of London on Valentine’s Day.
It feels like one tiny bit of the confusion fog in my brain is clearing up.
“Okay. Yeah.” I try to smile back. “That’s a good idea.”
He nods once and turns away. “I’m gonna jump in the shower.”
I watch him pad down the hall and disappear into the bedroom. He crosses the open doorway a second later, wearing just his boxers. My gaze pauses at his toned, muscled form before I force myself to look away. I’m a scumbag to ogle him right after I’ve rejected him.
Coco slow-blinks as she gazes at him right along with me.
I glance down at her. “I know, right?”
Standing alone in the kitchen while cuddling Coco, I take mental stock of this situation. I’m divorced. I finally have the adorable and cuddly cat I always wanted. My personal life is a Jerry Springer –level trash fire given the fact that I’m now shacking up with my ex-husband’s cousin.
Unease simmers inside me like a quiet current. I won’t ever be able to fully relax into this new reality, not when there are still a million unanswered questions. I still have no idea how I got here. Or why I’m here. I could wake up tomorrow (yesterday) and face a completely new disaster I’m not prepared for since I’m essentially living my life backward.
The gears in my brain start to grind. For a second I contemplate doing something completely nuts to disrupt the timeline. Like rob a bank. Or set my car on fire. Would that be enough to throw everything off, maybe even reset this backward timeline?
But then I remember how I fell asleep in my car the previous night. I woke up in bed with Milo anyway—where I had likely fallen asleep the “day before.” It doesn’t seem to matter what I do throughout the day. The timeline jumps me backward.
A restless feeling courses through my body. The urge to do something, anything, to regain some semblance of control is hitting me hard. But I can’t. Even if I did set my car on fire today, I’d wake up yesterday and have it be just fine. I have to just let this timeline run itself back. But back to where?
A weird wave of grief washes over me. It’s jarring, but the longer I think about it, the more it makes sense. My sense of comfort and security, my joy, my old life, my sense of control ... I’ve lost it all. Even though it was all a lie, even though I don’t want to be married to Tristan anymore after finding out what a cheating scumbag he is, I can’t help the sadness I feel. I thought I was so happy. I thought my life was perfect. It wasn’t even close.
I close my eyes for a long sec, my brain aching at what a mind-fuck this all is. I suddenly feel like I’m going through the stages of grief.
Now I guess I have to accept that this is all real.
When I open my eyes, I see Coco staring at me with adorable sleepy eyes. Her cuteness is a needed buffer in the midst of this madness.
I give Coco another chin scratch and a kiss on the top of her impossibly soft head, set her back on the couch, and open one of the kitchen drawers. I’m weirdly relieved when I see the notepad I stored there ages ago. And comforted. It’s one familiar thing in this place where so much is different.
To help me make sense of it all, I stand at the island and write out everything I’ve learned since I’ve experienced this weird-as-hell time warp.
Things I know for certain:
I fell asleep February 14, 2024.
I woke up on February 14, 2025, one year into the future from when I fell asleep.
Tristan and I split up because he cheated on me. He’s with his ex-girlfriend Carly now. They have a kid together.
Milo is my boyfriend. We live together.
I got to keep Tristan’s house on Dorset Street.
I’m living my life backward in time.
Things I need to find out:
How did I find out Tristan was cheating on me?
When did I find out about Tristan’s affair and Carly’s pregnancy?
How long had their affair been going on?
Has he cheated on me before?
How did I end up with the house?
How did Milo and I become close?
When did things between Milo and me turn romantic?
I scan the dizzying list of questions, feeling the slightest bit intimidated. This is a hell of a to-do list. Where do I even start?
I walk slowly around the apartment, hoping that something will jump out at me and magically answer any of my questions.
When my gaze lands on the desk in my bedroom, I zip over and start yanking out the drawers. A glossy blue folder in the top middle drawer nabs my attention. There’s a law firm logo embossed on the front of it—I’ve never heard of it before. I pull the folder out and quickly flip through the stack until I see the text on top of one of the pages.
Dissolution of marriage
There are my name and information along with Tristan’s. And a date that the paperwork was initially filed.
February 24, 2024.
Jesus. That was less than two weeks after our first-year wedding anniversary ... which means I must have found out about Tristan’s affair soon after we celebrated one year together.
I stare at the date until my eyes burn, unable to move or blink. When I finally do move, I tear up but press on. There’s a morbid curiosity taking hold of me at the moment. I know I’m not going to like what I find out, but I’m too curious. So I keep reading.
I see that I selected “adultery” as the reason for the divorce.
I swallow, my throat aching.
I see the name Lara Chan. She was my attorney.
“Hey.”
I look up to see Milo standing in the open doorway of the bathroom, clad in just a towel, his bare chest dotted with water droplets, gazing down at me with concern in his deep-brown gaze.
“What are you doing reading that?”
I stammer as I look between the pile of legal documents that I’ve set on my lap and him. “I don’t know,” I finally say.
He walks the few steps over to where I’m sitting and kneels down next to me. He takes the pile of papers from me and sets them on top of the desk.
“You haven’t looked at these in a while,” he says softly.
I shake my head. “I just can’t believe it’s real. That this actually happened.”
He runs a hand through his damp hair, nodding.
“I guess I’m still trying to process everything.”
Milo hesitates for a few seconds. “Of course.”
He stands up and starts to turn toward the bathroom, but I catch his wrist and turn him back to me. “What did you think when it happened?”
He frowns slightly. “When what happened? When you got divorced or when I found out what Tristan did?”
I swallow. “Both.”
“You really want to talk about this again?”
I nod. I need answers to my questions. I need to know what exactly happened.
I let go of his wrist, and he moves to sit on the foot of the bed. I twist in my desk chair to face him.
“When I found out that Tristan was cheating on you, I was beyond pissed. But I, uh ... I wasn’t exactly surprised.”
I frown. “What do you mean by that?”
He hesitates, glancing away for a second. The clouds have dissipated, and a sunbeam now filters through the nearby window. It illuminates Milo like a spotlight on a stage. His skin glows tan-gold. The drops on his chest dazzle like tiny diamonds.
“I never told you this,” he murmurs while rubbing the back of his neck.
“Tell me now. Please.”
He looks at me again. “Tristan has cheated on every woman he’s ever been with. That I know of, at least.”
I don’t know why hearing that guts me so much. It takes a moment for me to catch my breath. I shouldn’t be surprised. If one of my friends told me that their partner was having a long-term affair with his ex and got her pregnant, I’d assume that’s not the first time he’s strayed. It comes off like textbook serial-cheater behavior.
Milo reaches over and grabs my hand. “I’m sorry, Riley. I should have told you sooner.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s ... it’s not your fault Tristan is a serial cheater.”
“No, but maybe I could have warned you about him.”
“I probably wouldn’t have listened to you. I didn’t really like you for the longest time.”
“Fair point. So, yeah, I was pissed when I found out what happened. And I mean, you know the rest.”
“Yeah, but I want to hear it again.”
His thick eyebrows furrow slightly. “Why, though?”
I scramble, trying to think of a way to explain this without outright saying, “Because for some impossible, unexplainable reason, in one night’s sleep I lived an entire year, a lot of fucked-up shit went down, and I don’t remember any of it, so now I’m trying to figure out what I missed without everyone around me thinking I’ve lost my mind.”
I study Milo’s concerned gaze. “Because I know now so much of my relationship with Tristan was a lie. I was so happy with him, but that was because he was hiding everything from me. I want to remind myself of the truth of what happened, even if it makes me sad and angry. At least those feelings are honest and genuine.”
I can tell by Milo’s hesitant expression that he’s not totally on board with this.
“Tell me, Milo. I already know what happened, but I need to hear it again.”
He scrubs a hand over the dark stubble covering his face. “A few days before your one-year anniversary, I was in Soho for a work meeting and I saw Tristan with Carly. They were leaving one of his restaurants. They were laughing. He had his arm around her. And I saw ... I saw her stomach. She was pregnant. And then Tristan patted her stomach, and I just knew. That baby had to be his. As she moved to leave, he pulled her back into him and kissed her. And then she walked off.”
The sensation that hits me feels a lot like someone’s fist just wrapped around my stomach. I swallow and silently command every muscle in my face to remain neutral, like I’ve heard all this before.
“When she left, he saw me staring at him from the sidewalk,” Milo says.
“Tell me what happened next.”
“We just stood there looking at each other. Like some sort of messed-up staring contest. After a few seconds, he walked up to me and started to say something, but I told him to shut up. I told him that I knew he was cheating—I knew he got Carly pregnant—and that he needed to come clean to you.”
“Right.” My throat feels like I’m trying to swallow a tennis ball.
“But when I came to Gran and Grandad’s anniversary party and saw you there and how happy you looked with him, I knew he hadn’t told you. About his affair. Or that he got Carly pregnant.”
I nod and think back to that night. How Milo was immediately hostile to Tristan, why he made those comments about my anniversary gift, why he taunted Tristan about being such a decent and thoughtful guy.
“That’s why you were such a dick that night,” I say. “You were angry with him and couldn’t think of any other way to deal with it than make sarcastic comments about his character.” I swallow. “And you got punched for it.”
Milo shrugs. “And again when I came to your house the following day to tell you about Tristan’s affair.”
My eyes go wide for a split second, but I blink and rein it in. Coco pads into the room and hops on the bed to sit next to him. He scratches under her chin. “You had just gotten this fluffy little diva.”
My mouth falls open slightly as my brain scrambles to take in everything Milo’s saying.
His face twists slightly, and his expression turns pained. “Seeing that look on your face when I told you, you were so confused. Especially when Tristan denied it at first. But I swore I was telling the truth. And that’s when I think it started to set in for you. I could tell by the shocked expression on your face. You believed me. And then when it sank in what he did, you looked so broken. I hated being the one to make you feel that way.”
I don’t say anything in response. All my energy is being channeled into keeping my face as neutral as possible while my brain scrambles to process everything he’s telling me.
“You’re not the one at fault,” I finally say a few seconds later, when I’m sure my voice will be steady. “This is all on Tristan.”
“But I was the messenger. I was the one delivering the news that broke your heart—the news that ruined your life.”
I grip the back of the chair just to have something to steady me. I take a long, slow, silent breath. And then I look at Milo.
“You’re upset,” he says softly.
“Yeah. But that’s the way I should feel reliving the moment when I found out my husband was a lying, cheating bastard.”
Milo nods, his expression turning regretful as he looks off to the side.
I grab his hand. “I needed to hear this again. Thank you.”
He shakes his head, and that sad smile pulls at his lips. “Don’t thank me, Riley. I’m the one who should be thanking you.”
“For what?”
He leans forward, the broad spread of his shoulders closing the space between us. When he cups my cheek, my skin tingles. I tense under his touch. A second later he seems to notice, and he pulls his hand away. He presses his eyes shut and shakes his head. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you like that when you already said you’re feeling mixed-up about things.”
“It’s okay,” I say quickly.
“It’s not.” Milo clears his throat and scoots away, widening the space between us. “I just meant that I’m grateful for the way you were. The way you are. For giving your husband’s cousin a chance when you had every reason to tell me to fuck off. For not totally writing me off as a pathetic loser when I confessed that I’d been carrying a torch for you ever since the night I met you.”
I can’t blink or move. All the skin on my body is on fire.
He flashes a soft smile at me before standing up and walking back into the bathroom while I sit here and attempt to work out the bomb he just unwittingly dropped on me.