I lower my lashes to hide my reaction, and a third hand, smaller and feminine, pats my back—Cat. I look over my shoulder to see her sympathetic smile. If anyone can understand what I am going through right now, she can. We share a look that needs no words, and with reluctance, I step out of Austin’s arms.
“So anyone gonna tell me who that woman was?” Lucas asks, looking between us. “Or maybe what the hell that was all about, worlds of possibilities, portals, and changing history?”
He shifts his weight from foot to foot, and Austin’s body tenses. “What woman?”
Lucas ignores him and takes a step closer, lowering his voice as if worried someone will overhear. “Because either someone slipped some funky mushrooms on our pizza tonight, or that woman just disappeared into thin air. And last time I checked, that wasn’t possible.”
Austin wraps his hand around my elbow and repeats his question, this time more aggressively. “What woman?”
His jaw clicks with frustration as he waits for me to answer, and I realize there is no way to avoid answering him. I shift my gaze to Lucas, watching his hands flex and clench at his sides, his body poised as if preparing for a battle he does not understand, and exhale a resigned breath.
I look at Cat. “We need to tell them.”
She closes her eyes and nods once.
This will not be easy.
“All right, guys, let’s go inside.” She takes Lucas’s hand and leads him to the door. “I think you’re both gonna want to sit down for this.”
My cousin doesn’t stop in the living room where we sat before, but continues down the hall to her bedroom. “In case anyone comes home early,” she explains as I walk in after the boys. She shuts the door behind me and locks it, testing the knob to ensure our privacy, then slides her arm around my shoulder. I rest my head against hers.
It’s time the boys hear the truth. I only hope they believe it.
…
The air conditioner whirs overhead, sending shivers down my arms. The springs in Cat’s heavenly mattress squeak, protesting under the amassed weight of four bodies. Austin squishes the feathers of her pillow in his hand, and the scent of rose fills the air. I must admit, all those nights I spent lying awake at home, fantasizing about the first time I would ever share a bed with a boy, I never dreamed it like this. Unmarried. Fully clothed. And with an audience.
The awkward trepidation and uncertainty, unfortunately, was always part of the fantasy.
Lucas looks at me and plunges his fingers through his curls. We’ve been sitting here for a full minute in silence, perhaps longer, neither Cat nor I sure of where to begin. How does one tell someone such a fantastical tale? Then I remember my cousin confided this very thing to me two years ago (interestingly enough, also in a bedroom) during her own time-travel jaunt. I further recall how hard it was for me to accept the truth. I’m not even sure I fully believed it until I saw Reyna appear on the street, watched her clothes transform from the drab servant outfit into her costume of veils, and witnessed the two of them go inside the green tent and vanish a short time later.
But as often as I have played back Cat’s confession that night, marveling at the way destiny works, I never thought I would be on this side of the conversation.
The mattress dips as Lucas shifts, and I hear his breath catch.
“Cat, is that you?”
Ripped from my memories, I shift my gaze to where he is staring and land on Lorenzo’s painting. Well, it looks like we found our opening.
“Uh, yeah,” Cat says, turning to me. “It’s kind of an interesting story.”
She hesitates, perhaps waiting for me to jump in, but if such a thing as being an expert on explaining time travel exists, or at least a seasoned speaker on such a topic, my cousin would be it. I wave my hand, indicating she should go on, and she rolls her eyes.
“All right, then.” She tucks her legs underneath her and settles in like she is about to tell us a bedtime story, and proceeds to tell Austin and Lucas about her magical, fantastical trip back to the sixteenth century.
During the telling, Lucas’s eyebrows creep so far up his forehead that they nearly meet his hairline. Austin blinks his long, beautiful lashes, then fixes his deep blue gaze on me. His thoughts remain hidden in their depths, and I hug my legs to my chest, wishing I had some of Reyna’s powers so I could determine what he is thinking.
After explaining how it was she came to arrive in my time, she pauses, then looking at me, says, “And that’s where I met Less.”
One, two, three—
“Wait, what?”
At his outburst, Austin’s thoughts no longer remain hidden. Blatant incredulity is written all over his face, and even though I have been exactly where he is now, most likely questioning and doubting the very same things he is—such as my cousin’s sanity or if this is all a joke—I can’t help wishing he would just accept the truth without question. That somehow, he would just know.
But that, I suppose, would be too simple.
Instead of answering him, Cat strolls over to her desk and opens a drawer. As she pulls out a bright purple binder and flips the thick pages inside, Lucas watches her every movement. He hasn’t said a word yet, not even a grunt or disbelieving snort, but the squiggle between his eyebrows implies he shares Austin’s concerns about her sanity.
Austin isn’t watching my cousin, however. He’s watching me. And afraid of what I will see when (if?) he finally does accept the truth, I cast my eyes to my lap.
Cat plops down in the middle of the bed, seemingly unfazed by their obvious doubt. Only those closest to her know how she hides her insecurities, and knowing her as well as I do, I see the slight tremor of her fingers, the tension in her shoulders.
“When I came back home, I didn’t think anyone would believe me.” She laughs. “Hell, I didn’t plan on ever telling anyone, either, but just in case I needed to, I collected proof.”
“Proof?” I ask, wondering why she never mentioned this before.
She flinches, and my apprehension escalates. I know she didn’t forget to show this to me—she kept it a secret on purpose. But why would she feel the need to hide?
Tapping her manicured nails on the binder’s cover, she focuses her gaze on Lucas instead of me. “You see, as if the ability to travel through time wasn’t crazy enough, my gypsy girl let me bring my backpack with me. And along with much-needed toothpaste, deodorant, magazines, art supplies, and various electronics, I had my camera. Whenever people weren’t looking, or sometimes even when they were, I snapped shots.”
She opens the binder and begins flipping through pages of buildings, outfits, and food. I spot the familiar sight of Mama’s profile, and my heartbeat stutters over the gaping hole her absence has left. Then Cat stops on a page containing a picture of me covered in green goop, and blood rushes to my face.
“We all agree this is Less, right?”
The boys nod, and Austin’s lips twitch with amusement. I flash Cat a disgruntled look. Could she not have chosen a less embarrassing photograph to prove her point?
Cat grins and flips another page, and then it is time for her breath to catch. I look down and discover why.
It’s a photograph of Lorenzo.
Lucas jerks and grabs the binder. She places her hand on his arm. “Lucas, meet Lorenzo. Lorenzo Cappelli, your Renaissance ancestor, and the artist who painted me there.”
Almost as one, four sets of eyes shift to the painting.
A muscle pops in Lucas’s jaw, and I can’t imagine what he is presuming. Cat bites her lip and picks at a nonexistent hangnail. “Luc, I know how it looks, but nothing happened. It was completely innocent. Most of that painting is artistic interpretation.”