Don't You Wish (25 page)

“Can you get into the deleted mail or sent messages?” He does, with ease. “You’re a handy tool to have around, Charlie Zelinsky,” I say with admiration in my voice.

He smiles, that not-quite-whole thing that lifts one side of his mouth and all of my heart.

“Nothing,” he says, scrolling through a dozen or so messages. “She must delete and then delete the trash, too.”

“What about the saved messages?” Surely something as special as communication with her ex-boyfriend would be in a saved file.

He slides the cursor over to the side and down the few files. They’re named: doctor’s hospital fund-raiser; book club; school communication.

“She communicates with the school?” Who knew she was that interested?

“That’s all there is,” Charlie says. “Except for this one, called one-four-three.”

I gasp. “Wait! That’s it!”

He stops the cursor on the three numbers. “One hundred and forty-three?”

Like music to my ears. “That’s their code. One-four-three. The letters in—”

“I love you.”

I know he’s just finishing my sentence, but the words trip my heart anyway. “That’s … right. That’s what it means. Open that file, Charlie.”

He does, and there’s only one email saved in it. Without waiting for me to give the word, he clicks it open.

It’s from Mel Nutter to Emily Monroe. Dated a month ago, with a subject line
Hello, old friend
.

Charlie glances at me. “You sure you want to read it?”

I nod, unable to stop myself.

But he doesn’t scroll down to read the message. “Remember, Annie, this isn’t your dad, at least not in the old universe where you used to live. This is Mel Nutter, here, in this world. Can you separate the two?”

I know he’s gently warning me so that whatever I read doesn’t upset me. But I nudge his hand so he’ll scroll down. “Let me see what he says.”

My eyes start to tear so much that the words swim. I feel so close to my dad, but so far away. I lean back from the screen.

“Can you read it to me, Charlie?”

“Sure. He says, ‘Things are good for me up here in Pittsburgh. I have to admit, it took a long time to get over you (ha ha), but I eventually got my engineering degree and have been working for Process Engineering for almost fifteen years.’ ”

“He always wanted to get that degree but never could afford to do it. That’s good.”

Charlie continues reading, “ ‘It’s a good job, but there’s a lot of management now that I’ve moved up the ranks, and less time to fool around with my secret projects. Yes, I still have them! Got one I’m working on now that’s sure to be a winner.’ ”

“He’s still an inventor!” I’m so glad that some things never change, in any universe. “So maybe he can re-create the mirror.” Just this tiny connection to a man I miss so much makes me happy. I lean on Charlie, closing my eyes. “Go ahead. Keep reading.”

“ ‘But what I’m most excited about, Em, is that I’ve finally found the perfect woman and I’m getting married.’ ”

Oh
. I bite my lip and let him read on.

“ ‘She’s a single mom named Barbara, and I’m just crazy about her. I love her daughter, too, which is nice, since I thought the fatherhood ship had sailed without me. We’re taking our vows on November seventeenth.’ ”

Charlie’s voice has a funny hitch when he says that, but then I realize I’m squeezing all the blood out of his arm. Because my dad is getting married.

“That’s this Saturday,” Charlie says softly.

“I know.” I just don’t quite know how to feel about that. “Does he say anything else?”

“Yes. ‘Funny how life works out the way it’s supposed to, isn’t it?’ ” Charlie reads on. “ ‘I would have gladly given up my engineering career for you, but if I didn’t work at Process Engineering, I’d have never met the temporary secretary for our department, who stole my heart. I love her very much and can’t wait to be her husband, and can’t wait to be a father to her girl. I’m going to adopt her, so when her mom takes my last name, so will her daughter, which is sweet. She’ll have to endure all those bad jokes about being a nut when she goes from Lizzie Kauffman to—’ ”

“What?” I shoot up, the word caught in my throat. “He’s marrying Lizzie’s mom?”

“Do you know Lizzie Kauffman?”

“She’s my best friend!” I can barely breathe. No, I
can’t
breathe. Emotions I don’t even understand are like sharp nails scraping over my heart. “That’s not fair. He’s my dad.”

“Annie,” he says softly. “Not in this world, he’s not. And it sounds like he’s happy.”

Shame washes over me, trying its best to wipe away the
jealousy, and only partially succeeding. “And I bet Lizzie is, too,” I manage to say. “She’s wanted a father for as long as I’ve known her.”

He looks at me, understanding and sympathy in his dark eyes. “I know it hurts to think about him in love with someone else, but at least you know his daughter will be someone you care about.”

“But I’m his daughter,” I say, my voice breaking a little.

He takes my face in his hand and holds it. “I told you, not in this universe.”

I nod, more tears threatening. “He’s getting married on Saturday.”

“But he also says he’s working on something exciting,” Charlie points out. “You know, if that’s the Picture-Perfect mirror and you could get it, you might …”

He lets his voice trail off.

“Stop that marriage?” I finish.

“I was thinking you might find a way to go live in the universe where that isn’t happening.”

I close my eyes. “I can’t change what’s going on in this universe, and I don’t want to,” I say to him. “But … if I have the chance to go back …”

He gently wipes my infernal tears. “You have to decide where you belong now, Annie.”

“I like when you call me that.”

“You know what I like?”

I shake my head.

“You.” He places his cheek against mine. “I like you. That’s one-four-three too, you know.”

I smile. “One-four-three back at you, Charlie Z.”

With that half smile in place, he kisses me. His lips are warm, tender, and tentative. But I angle my head and take the kiss, letting it send sparks all through me as he wraps his arms around me and deepens the connection.

Maybe this is where I belong. Right here, in Charlie’s—

“Ayla!” The door pops open like a firecracker, jolting us apart.

“Dad …” I feel a whole different heat creep over me.

“Our guests have arrived,” he says, his voice dark, his eyes locked on Charlie like he’s an escaped convict. “You may leave now, young man.”

“Dad, why?”

“Because you have work to do.” He indicates for me to follow him out the door.

Slowly I get off the bed and give Charlie an apologetic glance.

“It’s all right,” he whispers, quietly closing the laptop and sliding it away. “I can show myself out.”

Jim is still glowering. “Downstairs. Right now,” he orders me.

I follow him out of the room, aware of Charlie behind me. At the bottom of the stairs, a couple is talking by the fountain.

“I found my daughter,” Jim says, trotting down the stairs, his voice all bright and phony. “Let me introduce you.”

The two people look up at me and smile, no doubt already informed what a
perfect
family Jim Monroe runs.

Fighting the urge to set them straight, I plaster a smile onto my face.

“Ayla, I’d like you to meet the newest Forever Flawless franchisees, Dr. Jack Passarell and his wife, Cynthia.”

I step off the last step, extending my hand, knowing my duties. “So nice to meet you,” I say. “Welcome to the Forever Flawless family.” I wonder if Jimbo hears the sarcasm in my voice.

Evidently not, since he beams with pride.

“Where is your clinic located?” I ask.

“This is our second,” Dr. Passarell says. “Both near Pittsburgh.”

“Pittsburgh?”
I can’t keep the utter disbelief out of my voice. Still on the stairs behind me, I can hear Charlie’s soft intake of breath. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Don’t be so surprised,” Mrs. Passarell responds defensively. “We do have cosmetic surgery in Pittsburgh.”

“But
Pittsburgh
 … Pennsylvania?” It can’t be possible.

“It’s not the steel city it once was,” her husband replies quickly. “There’s a lot of money in Pittsburgh, and a lot of need for this brilliant walk-in cosmetic surgery concept.”

Mrs. Passarell raises a sharp eyebrow. “You should visit before you pass judgment, young lady.”

Jimbo is scowling at me, no doubt thinking I’ve made the ultimate hostess faux pas by insulting the doctor’s hometown.

“And you can see it,” Jim adds. “I’m flying up to Pittsburgh in the company jet on Friday morning for some meetings, then the grand opening on Saturday. You should come to represent the family.”

“To Pittsburgh? On Saturday?”

Should I stay or should I go?

I glance over my shoulder at Charlie, and he looks as torn as I feel. But something, something
down in my soul
, tells me the answer.

“I’d love to go.”

The party eventually dwindles down to the Passarells, several noisy Forever Flawless employees, and one extremely attractive young woman named Sierra—not the same girl from Mynt, I might add—who has kept her balloon boobs within inches of Jimbo at all times.

I watch from my seat at the kitchen table, more content to stay inside with Tillie than with the guests. All of them, with the exception of Jim—he remains as sober as a judge—have deteriorated from somewhat relaxed to outright drunk. A few guests have stripped and gone swimming. One is dancing under the waterfall. Two more have a bottle of tequila, limes, and salt. I know enough about drinking to know that duo will be naked and in the pool after a few shots.

It’s like homecoming, grown-up style.

Done with my hostess duties, I am antsy to figure out a way to get to Charlie. He texted me that he has something major to share, but he doesn’t want to risk getting kicked out of the house again.

However, the limo driver is on a run, so I’m stuck for the time being. At the long granite-topped island, Tillie pauses in the nonstop act of cleaning the always immaculate counter, her eyes on the same woman I’m watching.

“You think that’s the one who sent my mom packing?” I ask her.

Tillie exhales out a sizeable nose. “I think it was the one before her that really did Ms. Emily in, but, if you ask me, they’re interchangeable.”

“Sad,” I say, resting my chin in the palms of my hands. “What’s his problem, anyway?”

Tillie raises both eyebrows in surprise. “Miss Ayla, you know him better than anyone. You tell me.”

“Peter Pan syndrome?”

She snorts. “Nah, he’s plenty mature. I think …” She stops herself and swallows, as if she suddenly remembers who she’s talking to. “That you should go find yourself something better to do than watch these people make fools of themselves.”

“Finish your sentence,” I urge softly. “I want to know what you think.”

“Since when?”

Another person I still have to convince that I’m really different. “Since I became the new me, and have developed a genuine respect for your opinion. What do you think is wrong with him?”

She rounds the island, her attention fully on me now. “I think, Miss Ayla, that if you had been acting for the last sixteen years like you’ve been acting for the last week or so, this might have been a happier home.”

My jaw slackens. “You think that Jimbo and the bimbo is
my
fault?”

“You’ve made it too easy for your mother to leave.”

The accusation stings. “Me? What about him?” I point toward the patio. “And Trent! There are two kids in this family.”

“But your relationship with your father has always hurt Ms. Emily. You shut her out. Until recently, anyway.”

I think about that. If I stay here and live this universe as my life, can I change the course of this marriage? Can I get Mom to come back home? Can I get Jim to stop cheating?

Can I do more good here than there?

“Food!” Trent comes clomping into the kitchen. “Tillie, tell me there are mountains of leftovers.” He lets out a burp that would bring Theo to tears of envy.

“You’re disgusting,” I say, more out of habit than anything else.

He looks at me like he has just noticed I’m here. “Well, if it isn’t the laughingstock of Crap Academy. Listen, I’d really appreciate it if you’d wait until I graduate before you wreck the family name.”

“What did she do?” Tillie asks.

“Just acted like … like …”

“Like a person with a heart and soul,” I fire back.

“As if you ever had a heart and soul in your life.” He
takes a container of milk out of one of the fridges and holds it up to his mouth. “I’m the one with those around here.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Tillie practically growls at him.

“I’m going to waterfall it, Tilster. No worries.” He raises the bottle an inch from his open mouth.

“One drop, and you’re dead.”

He freezes just before the milk pours into his mouth. “Tillie, don’t deny a thirsty man his milk.”

“Dead.”

I watch the exchange, aware of a dizzying sense of déjà vu. This is exactly how Theo and Mom interact. That tight longing seizes my throat again, the scene sucker punching me with homesickness.

On the table, my phone buzzes with a text.

Charlie: Hey, if you can get over here, I might have some answers for you. That is, if you want to go “home.” Let me know. 143

I stare at the message and the numbers.
Our
numbers now.
I like you
.

“Don’t kill Trent, Tillie. I need him to drive me to Hialeah.”

Without moving the bottle, Trent slides me a sharp gaze from under thick lashes. “Why the hell would I do that?”