Page 41 of Parallel

Dr. Grosbaum shakes his head. “You don’t believe me, but you should. Jumping into another timeline, inexperienced as you must be, must be deadly. It’s shearing your brain as surely as I could with a pair of scissors.”

I still don’t believe him, but a part of me wishes I did. I want to think there’s a way to stop what’s happening in my head. And he seems so damn sure of himself when he says it.

“Okay,” I reply, sinking back into my chair. “So how do I stop doing it then? I have no interest in these dreams, or jumping if you want to call it that. So tell me how to make it stop.”

“You don’t stop. You get better. You embrace your abilities instead of repressing them.”

“Are you saying that would heal my tumor?” I ask.

“It could,” he says. “I can’t promise you that, obviously. But I can promise you that repressing them will only make things worse.”

Nick’s knee is bouncing and I can tell he’s five seconds from calling this guy out for the quack he is. And I’d agree with that assessment. Despite the fact that there have been incidents in my life I can’t explain, I don’t think I truly have some kind of paranormal ability. Certainly nothing as extreme as the ability to travel through time.

I rise. “You’ve given us a lot to think about.”

Grosbaum jumps up, blocking my path. “I’d love to run a quick DNA test before you go.”

Nick, already standing close, steps slightly in front of me. “I don’t think so.”

“You’re not doing her any favors, young man,” Dr. Grosbaum says, his voice tight. “Whoever is resetting the timeline will continue to do so until she gets what she wants from your wife. If the resets don’t kill her in the first place, that is.”

“Quinn is not my wife.”

Dr. Grosbaum throws his pen down in disgust. “And she never will be if the two of you refuse to listen.”

We cannot get into the Jeep fast enough. Nick holds the door and I practically leap inside, feeling like the good Dr. Grosbaum could, at any moment, come running after us with a meat cleaver and a tranquilizer gun. And yet…as impossible as they are, Grosbaum’s theories would explain everything. If only they’d been slightly less bizarre.

“I think I see why he’s not permitted on the Princeton campus anymore,” Nick says, backing out of the driveway.

I feel like an idiot for bringing him up here. If Grosbaum’s theories were hard for me to buy, to Nick they must seem outrageous. “I’m so sorry I dragged you into this,” I tell him.

His mouth stretches into a grin. “I forgive you, wife.”

“Yeah, what was up with that?”

He laughs. “I have no fucking clue. So, are we safe to go eat lunch or do you think the crazy time-jumping lady, who wants to stop you from destroying the world, will interrupt?”

I grin. “I think we’re safe. Besides, the impression I got from him is that this is about you, husband. Some woman wants to steal you away. Bitches be crazy and all that.”

“You should explain to her what a dud I was on our honeymoon. Maybe that will dissuade her.”

I curl up in my seat to face him. “I never said you were a dud. I said I don’t remember.”

The corner of his mouth turns upward, that dimple blinking into existence for just a moment. “That’s kind of the same thing. All I can say in my own defense is that it’d be memorable now.”

My stomach clenches with desire. I think of Trevor’s question—haven’t you ever wanted someone so much you think you’ll die if you don’t get it? I think I finally do.

We get back to D.C. just at the start of rush hour. I wish the drive had lasted longer. “Thank you for today,” I tell him when he pulls up to my office.

“It was surprisingly fun,” he says. His gaze brushes over my face, a muscle feathering in his jaw. “Will Jeff be home this weekend?”

The mention of Jeff’s name replaces all my wistful infatuation with guilt. “Yeah. He wants to go look at houses. He’s not going to be happy to hear I want to spend my inheritance on a degree instead.”

His nostrils flare. “Only a selfish dick would try to tell you how to spend your money. Especially under the circumstances.”

I shake my head. “Jeff’s just looking out for our future. You probably make enough money that you’ve never had to worry about whether you’ll be able to support a family. Jeff and I are not in that position.”

I turn toward the door and his hand snakes out, framing my jaw. An intimate gesture, one neither his girlfriend nor my fiancé would appreciate, but I can’t seem to pull away. “Please give it some thought, okay? Don’t agree to anything with him just yet.”