Maybe this is what happened. The two versions of me made the same, opposite choice at the same time. And it caused my universe to split into two. Is the other me there, in my world? Is she eating steak tartare at Dunsmoor and looking through her phone’s contact list, marveling at all the famous names? Is she using Face ID to log into Chase, looking at the six-figure checking balance and feeling free at last? I bet she’d be over the moon. I mean, waking up super skinny, famous, and rich would probably be a dream come true.

But what happens when she hits Aimee’s contact and gets no answer? I’ve never deleted it. Couldn’t. Even though, of course, calling it would probably reach someone else now.

How long would it take her to discover the truth? What evidence did I leave in that life, besides her absence, that she is gone?

And how much would she care? I want to assume it would devastate her, but that version of me sounds so self-involved that maybe it would feel like a worthy cost for her dream life.

I have a feeling that if she is there, she wants to come back to reality as little as I do.

My stomach does an uneasy turn as I think of my own impending return ticket. I never want any vacation to end, but in the case of this trip, I genuinely don’t think I can cope if it does.

When I arrive back at the cottage, Kiera has completely finished cleaning the kitchen.

“When you make as many messes as I do, you get pretty efficient at cleaning them up,” she explains.

I consider telling her about the ticket that Avalon-me had, and even mentioning my own ticket back, but when I see her happily getting ready for the party, I decide I can’t talk about my drama all the time. I have to be better than the me I just privately considered to be self-involved.

I then speed into getting ready mode, rummaging through the closet for something to wear. I land on a long lace-and-cotton dress and a pair of strappy, well-worn leather sandals. I put on the same basic makeup I would do on any other given day, surprised to see that I have gravitated toward some of the same products in this reality as in my other. Same ILIA mascara and Rare Beauty blush.

When I come into the living room, ready to go, Kiera’s jaw drops.

“What?” I ask.

“You look gorgeous,” she says. “Cillian won’t be able to take his eyes off you. Though he never can.”

“Really?” I look down at the dress. “I feel very normal looking.”

“It’s the makeup—it looks so much better than usual, so pretty and professional looking. You look like a—”

I grin. “Do I look like a mooovie star, is that what you were going to say?”