Honestly.
I wanted to ask him if it was normal for a man with a fiancée to leave her sitting off to the side while he helped another woman try on wedding dresses.
But the words got as far as my mouth and I swallowed them, saying instead, "No. I've just been worn out from painting lately."
"Good. As long as you're not jealous."
Jordan gave a little smile. "Come by my office tomorrow morning and sign the legal representative contract."
He kissed my forehead, turned, and left.
I sat in the living room holding the necklace, staring at nothing.
Then the me from eight years later rushed in again.
"Martha Henson, wake up! Or your creditors will break your legs, gouge out your eyes, cut your face open piece by piece! And your parents will burn to death!"
She snatched the jewelry box with the necklace inside and stabbed at it wildly with a pair of scissors.
A stitched little doll dropped out of the bottom.
My name was carved on the front.
On the back it read: *Drain away your luck, die, die, die!*
The handwriting was Nanette Summers's.
My scalp went numb. White in the face, I slid to the floor.
The best friend who'd clung to me for twenty-five years.
Hated me this much.
The boyfriend who'd claimed to love me for twenty-five years.
Had set his whole mind on using me as the one who'd take the fall.
My future self crouched down slowly, held me tight, and patted my back.
She started to sing the song I loved most.
Tears slid down.
I knew.
Me and myself.
We were the only ones who'd truly live and die together.
……
The next morning, my future self was gone again.
Jordan sent a message: *Martha, I have to go away on business. I've had someone leave the contract on the desk for you.*
*Sign it and slip it into the bottom drawer.*
Since he wanted my signature on that contract so badly.
I'd play along and turn it against him.
I went to the office at Gilbert's company, and sure enough, a legal representative contract was sitting on the desk.
Along with a cup of the yogurt I liked.
Just then, voices drifted in from outside.
"Did you see Manager Summers's posts? She and Mr. Gilbert went to the beach to shoot wedding photos."
"Wait, doesn't Mr. Gilbert have a girlfriend?"
"You just don't get it. Every one of these bosses plays around, one worse than the next."
The post had never shown up in my feed.
Nanette must have blocked me.
They'd probably been flaunting their romance behind my back for a while, and I'd had no idea.
Buzz, buzz.
Right then, Jordan called. "Martha, did you sign the contract?"
"Not yet."
I paused, then asked on purpose, "I'm running a fever. Where are you? Can you come be with me?"
"I'm swamped over here, can't get away. Sign the contract and get yourself to a doctor."
Every third word out of Jordan's mouth was that contract.
Clearly terrified his little fall guy might slip away.
"Swamped? Then why did I hear you and Nanette are off shooting wedding photos?"
My voice came out cold.
The line went silent for a few seconds before Jordan spoke again. "You know how Nanette is against marriage. She just wanted wedding photos as a keepsake. I didn't mention it because I was afraid you'd read too much into it."
"Once you and I register on Friday, we'll go take our own wedding photos too."
It was a clumsy excuse.
I couldn't even be bothered to call it out. "Fine. I understand," I said.
I hung up.
Then Nanette called. "Martha, I don't mean anything by it, it's just friends helping friends. Please don't misunderstand, don't read into it!"
"I'm not reading into it."
At my answer, Nanette let out a breath of relief. "I knew you were the best. We'll always be sisters. Love you, mwah!"
I picked up the pen, signed the contract with a cold smile, and put it in the drawer.
"Jordan Gilbert. Nanette Summers."
"When the company blows up on Friday, you'll get to see the surprise I've prepared. Enjoy it."
