Page 73 of All Our Almosts

“That wasn’t your fault! You were just standing next to me when the jumpscare happened. I would’ve grabbed Adrian if he was there.” I picture the scene, the scare that had me clinging to Andy’s torso, eyes squeezed shut against him.

“Yeah well he said it in front of Carly too. That was basically the end for us.”

I can’t help but grimace. “I’m sorry. I guess I owe Carly an apology.”

“If you do then so do I, because he was right. I would’ve used any excuse to hold you back then.”

And there it is, the feeling that grabs me and squeezes me and screams This is your chance! Don’t mess it up!

I take a step closer. “And what about now?”

“Now…” He wraps his arms around me slowly, holding my body tight to his. “Now I just want your leftovers.” Fast as lightning he bites into my pretzel, then runs away with it still dangling from his mouth. I scream as I give chase and he benevolently lets me catch him. I grab his coat and spin him around to face me just as he shoves the rest into his mouth. He’s so ridiculous and unrestrained that I can’t help but pull his face down to mine, planting a laughing kiss on his lips despite his cheeks full of pretzel. He swallows and a smile blooms. I tuck my hand back into his and pull him back to the path.

We fall into step again, and I ask, “Are we bad people? I mean it’s probably not great that all our exes were suspicious of us.”

“Maybe,” Andy says, considering. “I don’t know. I don’t think we’re bad people, I think we were just… trying to figure things out.”

We move through the pine trees until we find ourselves in the Public Garden. This side of the Boston Common has a long pond stretching through its middle, and we walk up to the edge. Without any trees overhead, we can just make out a few dim stars in the sky. I ask, “See any constellations you know?”

He follows my gaze skyward. “It’s not my forte. I can sometimes find a dipper or two.”

I pull his shoulder down until he’s eye level with me. “The easiest one is Orion.” I take his hand in mine and point. “There. The three bright stars in a line.”

“I see it,” he says, hand curving around my waist as he tucks himself into the space next to me.

“And once you find Orion,” I continue, “he’s pointing to Taurus. That’s the V right… there.” I shift our fingers an inch to the right, tracing a V in the sky.

“Not bad for the city.”

I lower our hands. But when I make no move to leave, Andy steps behind me, wrapping both arms around my waist.

After a moment, I ask, “Can I tell you something embarrassing?”

He doesn’t reply, just tucks my head beneath his chin.

“Do you remember, in our new exhibit, there’s the part about the multiverse? It has a video playing and then there’s that long kind of pinkish hallway—”

“I remember.”

“It freaks me out a little. Not just our exhibit—the whole idea of a multiverse. There’s a theory that for every choice you’ve ever made in your life, there's a universe where you did the opposite. Maybe in this universe you made the wrong choice and you’ll never know. Maybe in that other universe you’re so much happier. Maybe you almost had everything you ever wanted, but you didn’t realize it, and now you never will. It’s sort of paralyzing. Like, how am I supposed to ever make a decision now? There’s no way I’m not gonna mess it up.”

He considers, then says, “I get it. But it’s just a theory, right? Fate is a theory too. Maybe this is the universe you’re meant to be in.”

I focus on the press of his chest against my back, the comfort and strength in the contact. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

A child laughs in the distance. The wind bites at our cheeks. I pull his arms tighter around myself, protecting our fragile warmth from the raw winter air.

“Can I tell you something embarrassing?” he asks in reciprocity, lips skimming the crown of my hair.

I nod.

“I think I do want to be a writer, eventually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I think I’ve always wanted to, but I was scared to try and be bad at it. But I guess we’re being brave now, right?” He squeezes my ribs, playing it off as a joke when it’s anything but.

“I’d love to read your writing someday, if you’d let me.”