My finger slipped.
Nick
Ok, Mallory. 👋🏼🙀🍆
Me
Don’t even joke about that. Just wish me luck.
Unless that isn’t a thing you say.
I don’t understand how you acting people talk.
Nick
As Aristotle said …
Me
If I did emojis, you’d get an eye roll.
Nick
“Excellence is never an accident. It is always the result of high intention, sincere effort, and intelligent execution; it represents the wise choice of many alternatives. Choice, not chance, determines your destiny.”
Me
You fucking nerd.
Nick
You love me.
Me
You know I do.
Nick
Do you need an official Dominic Martin pep talk?
Me
No.
But I’d take one from Nick Clarke.
I listened again to the voice memo. My brother’s ‘pep talk’ voice sounded bolder, like when he was his stage persona, but with a playful edge.
“Listen up: You’re Alexander Fucking Clarke. If they’re moronic enough to fire you, then it’s their loss, and you’ll rise like a goddamn phoenix. And if they’re smart enough to promote Victoria instead of you … well, can you blame them?” He chuckled, and I felt myself sile as he dropped his professional voice and sounded like my little brother again.
“Whatever happens, you’re still the best man I know. Have fun storming the castle.”
Grace
“I found champagne, get your sweet ass back upstairs!” Mallory yelled, but I barely heard her voice. The blood drained from my face as dizziness hit me and pressure rose in my chest. I reached for the stair railing to stay upright.
The glass door created a mirror image, reflecting my face over his.
“I can’t believe you get to be a mom without giving up booze or getting cankles,” Mallory’s voice sounded cloudy. “You’ve found the perfect workaround.”
He was almost me. Hazel eyes, full bottom lip, slender nose.
And yet, he was him. Unmistakably, undeniably him.
"Plus you get jewelry! I might consider having kids if it means …" After a brief pause, she chuckled. "Nah, I'll buy it for myself."
His wet hair fell over his forehead in a way I would have brushed back. His smooth beard covered his wider jaw in a way that mine had been patchy. His eyes yearned in a way that mine had always been guarded.
He wasn’t my before picture; he was my other half.
Mallory’s footsteps stopped abruptly at the top of the stairs. Her tone of voice shifted from playful to concerned, echoing down the narrow stairwell. “Honey, if you can hear me, take a deep breath.”
My lungs swelled as her footsteps vibrated down the stairs.
Then she was next to me where I was still frozen on the bottom step. Her hand provided a steadying touch on my elbow, then her gaze tracked mine and she gasped, “Holy shit, is that —”
The man outside lifted his hand, pressing his palm into the cold glass, coat sleeve dropping to reveal the tattoo on the inside of his wrist.
