I'll Stop the World (53)

“So, naturally, it makes sense to you that all of this would be part of some bigger thing, right, because you already believed there was a bigger thing,” Justin reasoned.

Rose considered, tapping her fingers on her notepad. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Whereas for me,” Justin continued, “I believed everything was random and pointless, and then this time-travel thing happened, and I can’t decide if that’s just the most random and pointless thing imaginable, or a sign that things actually aren’t random and pointless. Like, the evidence fits in both columns, you know?”

Rose reached over and grabbed her pencil from him, holding up the pad. “So then why are you going along with this whole fire theory anyway, if it’s all random and pointless?”

He shrugged. “Better than the alternative.” He grinned at her when she raised an eyebrow. “Throwing myself off a bridge,” he clarified.

“No, we wouldn’t want that,” Rose agreed.

“We?”

Rose gave him an incredulous look. “Are you seriously surprised that I don’t want you to throw yourself off a bridge?”

He dropped his eyes to the comforter, fiddling with a loose thread. “I’m just . . . not really used to people caring what happens to me,” he said quietly.

Rose’s heart sagged. Was he really that lonely, back in his time? “Well, I care,” she said, a little too brightly. She cleared her throat. “I’m in your corner, remember?”

“Right.” He gave her a small smile. “You and me versus the end of the world.”

“Exactly.” She nudged his leg with her foot. “C’mon. Get up, and let’s figure out what we’re doing tomorrow so you don’t melt.”

“Whatever you say, apocalypse buddy.”





TUESDAY





Chapter Thirty


VERONICA

“Ugh, no, thank you,” Veronica said, waving away the plate of slightly runny scrambled eggs her husband was trying to place in front of her. Her stomach turned at their glossy yellow sheen, the way they wobbled on the plate.

Bill frowned, examining the eggs. “Not a fan of eggs à la Bill anymore?” he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “And here I thought I’d perfected my method.”

“It’s not that. It’s—can you put that thing out?” She didn’t normally mind Bill’s smoking habit, but this morning it was giving her a headache. She picked up the folded newspaper as he snubbed the cigarette out in the ashtray on the kitchen table. “Thanks,” she said. “I just feel . . . ugh.” She scanned the front page yet again, hoping that maybe this time, it wouldn’t make her want to throw up.

Nope, still terrible.

Bill tilted his head sideways so he could read the headline that accompanied the photo of Diane and her family at brunch. “Yikes. I thought it was supposed to be a friendly profile of Diane?”

“It was. They totally screwed us.” Veronica flipped the paper over so she couldn’t look at it anymore. Lewis-Yin’s Lavish Lifestyle: Living Large as Polling Plummets. The article was ridiculous, using barely any of the thoughtful quotes Diane had provided, and contorting the facts to make it seem as though she had given up on the idea of winning after the latest polls and was squandering her remaining campaign money on extravagant outings for her family.

“Emerson donated the use of the Tearoom for the photo shoot!” Veronica lamented, dropping her head into her arms. “And the polling numbers aren’t even down that much! A lousy point. Although it’s probably more after this. I swear, I could strangle Franklin Gibson with my bare hands.”

Bill gave her a sympathetic smile, scraping the eggs onto his own plate before dropping into the chair next to her and rubbing her back. “I’m really sorry, honey.” Beside him, Millie babbled in her high chair, happily rubbing eggs into her hair. “Millie, baby, we eat with our mouths, not our hair,” he said, tapping the messy plastic tray with his finger.

“Ha!” Millie exclaimed, offering her daddy a gummy grin.

Veronica smiled in spite of herself. “I think she’s trying to say hair.”

“Are you saying hair, Millie? Have you learned another new word? Are you a precious little genius? I think you are, yes I do,” Bill said in baby-speak, making his voice high and cartoonish.

“Ha, Daddy!” Millie squealed again, picking up another handful of eggs and smashing them into her ear.

Veronica watched Bill as he tried to convince Millie to eat her food instead of accessorize with it, exaggerating his own motions as he shoveled bites of his breakfast into his mouth. “See how Daddy eats with his mouth? See how my teeth go chomp chomp chomp? Can you go chomp chomp, Millie?”

“Bill?”

“Hmm?” he said absently, still focused on their daughter. “I’m going to have to give you another bath before school, aren’t I?” he muttered despairingly as Millie smeared eggs into her lap.

“Am I insane, to think we can still win?”

He shook his head. “You’re absolutely not insane. We’ve known since the beginning that coverage from the Gazette wasn’t going to be fair, considering how much money Gibson funnels into that business. I mean, I don’t think anyone was prepared for just how bad it would get, but we were never expecting them to be in our corner. Yet Diane’s numbers have been pretty good, all things considered.”