Space (Laws of Physics #2)(31)

This was like before, outside of my door, when I’d caught her. She wasn’t freaked out, she was adorably agitated.

My instinct was to put Mona at ease. This instinct surprised me. I was determined to be uncompromising in my distrust of and disinterest in her. That was the goal. Thus, I didn’t understand this instinct. Therefore, I said nothing. Instead taking advantage of the opportunity to look my fill.

She shoved her hands in her pockets, drawing my eyes down to her hips. Mona DaVinci did not dress like her sister. All black, her clothes were somewhat baggy, loose, definitely not tight, leaving much to the imagination. Unashamed of my imagination, I licked my lips, wondering if she was still as fast of a swimmer now as she had been then.

Yanking my mind back from maddening memories of a certain white bikini, I lifted my attention to her face, a move necessary for self-preservation. She wore no makeup that I could see, and her hair was pulled back into a long braid. It was longer than before, several inches longer, and made me think of shiny, thick rope.

Mona dropped her gaze to the vicinity of the floor, but her voice was steady as she said, “There’s something you should know.”

I stared at her, at this exquisite face, this face I’d dreamt of and hated and longed for, and knew at once what she was going to say. I felt it in the vibrations of tension coming from her body, the set of her jaw, the dazed but resolute look in her eyes. I felt it in the absence of sound, the stillness, how even the dust seemed to be suspended.

I felt it in myself, how my muscles tightened, my breathing slowed, as though she still had that kind of power over me.

So, I laughed.

Mona’s gaze darted to mine, and I laughed harder at her obvious confusion, turning and finding a desk. I sat on the edge of it and faced her, clasping my hands together, one leg braced on the floor, the other dangling at the knee.

The bitterness returned and was powerful motivation, like last night when she’d offered her hand and introduced herself, assuming I’d been too stupid to discover her lies. Well, she’d been right about one thing. I had been stupid.

But I wasn’t stupid anymore.

“I wonder,” I said without thinking, still laughing lightly, my concern for her well-being overshadowed by the sour memory of her duplicity. I gave myself fully over to the anger. “I’ve always wanted to know, did she tell you I loved you?”

Mona flinched, her eyes bugging out of her head. “What?” she asked, the single word more breath than sound.

“When you two talked about it, after you switched places?” I waved my index and middle finger in front of me. “Did she tell you that I loved you? She tell you about that?”

She said nothing, her breaths coming faster, looking visibly stunned.

I laughed again, more of a light chuckle this time. “Was that part of the plan? Or why switch places for the week? I’ve always wondered.”

Like last night, Mona’s face was devoid of color. Staring at me, shell-shocked, eyes glassy.

“Abram—”

“You know, I thought I was crazy.” I had to cut her off. The way she said my name caused a pulse of heat to press outward against every inch of my skin and behind my eyes. I didn’t like it. “For a really long time, I thought I’d lost my mind. It was like . . .” Tearing my eyes from hers, I glanced over her head and finished my thought. “It was like, I woke up that morning and you—Lisa—were someone else. She broke my heart, but she did a good job of letting me down gently, everything considered.” Smiling with mock-ruefulness, I shook my head. “See? I even sound crazy now.”

Mona made a soft sound of distress. I ignored it. I’d trusted this woman blindly, after knowing some version of her for six days. Just six days. I’d fallen stupid in love with a fictional person, and now here we were.

“What I’m trying to say is: letting that Lisa go wasn’t hard. I couldn’t stand her voice. It was the same, but it wasn’t. It grated, nails on a chalkboard, everything was wrong. But I couldn’t stop thinking about my Lisa.” I stopped here to laugh lightly again.

Moving just my eyes, I studied Mona DaVinci from my spot across the room. Anguish, sorrow, regret played in equal measure over her features. Her nose was red, and seveal tears had rolled down her cheeks. How much of it was real? Impossible to say. But it did succeed in wiping the smile from my face.

Swallowing, she closed her eyes, but then she clenched her jaw and opened them again. Lifting her chin with a stubborn tilt, Mona affixed her stare to mine, looking dejected but also determined, giving me the impression she was forcing herself to meet my gaze. An inconvenient suspicion, that she was trying to accept my spiteful words as some kind of punishment, as a way to take responsibility for past mistakes, infuriated me, because it also made me respect her.

It doesn’t matter. It’s too late now.

“When did you find out?” she asked, her voice hoarse and quiet.

“I suspected almost immediately, the month after you left, in fact. But, like I said, I thought I was crazy for a long time. But then, I saw your testimony in front of Congress this summer.” I paused here, my attention moving over her face, reprimanding myself again for taking so long to accept the truth. “You were wearing glasses, and your hair was pulled back, like it is now, but in a bun. You didn’t look like my Lisa, but your voice . . .”

Mona cleared her throat, sniffed, and pressed her lips together, continuing to hold my glare with admirable self-possession given the fact that tears were still leaking out of her eyes.