“So we leave it open,” Finn says decisively.

“No,” I say. “As long as the veil is open, the murders will continue. If not here in Paris, then at other places around the world. Dad, you said yourself Paris isn’t the only weak spot. We can’t guard every rip. We can’t control it. We can only end it.”

I look in my friends’ panicked faces. My father looks as though he may vomit. My mother is scrunching her eyes shut to stop more tears from falling.

And Oliver—

Oliver is looking at me.

“Frances,” he breathes as my eye meets his. “You can’t really be considering this.”

I step to him and bury my face in the warmth of his chest. I savor the sound of his beating heart against my ear. I can’t believe I ever took a single second for granted with him. I make these last ones stretch on as long as I am able. I pull back, leaving his shirt wet with my tears.

“I hope you know how thoroughly and completely I am yours. What an honor it is to have been loved by you, Oliver Callahan.”

“No!” he shouts, face contorted in anger. “You don’t get to say goodbye like you’re considering this. It’s ridiculous, you can’t.”

There are so many versions of myself I have yet to meet, so many people I haven’t yet gotten the chance to love.

But I should have known better than to have assumed I was guaranteed time. None of us are. It’s better this way, at least I can go knowing I saved the ones I loved rather than in a random act of chaos, or drowning in the East River.

The most horrible part of me wonders if I deserve this, after all the death and destruction I’ve caused.

The terrifying truth is maybe it would feel nice to forget about the things I can’t forgive myself for.

Oliver, Lena, and Maxine tell me it’s all in the past, but is it in the past if I’m still living it over and over in my head every moment of every day?

Perhaps I deserve oblivion. Maybe I’ll get lucky and it’ll feel like peace.

I turn to face Lena and Maxine, whose faces are tear-streaked and full of rage. How do I say goodbye to them? How do I make them understand how fully I love them?

Before I can open my mouth, Oliver speaks up. “Absolutely not. It has to be Finn. This is absurd. I’ll shove him myself.”

The idea settles in the silence of the group.

My dad agrees immediately. “Yes, it should be the boy.”

“It should be Finn,” Maxine concurs.

“Wow, thanks, Maxine,” Finn says under his breath, like there is any humor to be found here.