Chapter 32

ROONEY

As soon as I step outside of the museum, the chill of the wind cuts through every layer of clothing on my body. The overcast sky mostly blends together in grays and whites, but there’s one cloud in particular that looks like a butterfly. It’s the closest the city will get to having butterflies in the winter. I wrap my scarf once more around my neck, pulling my coat tighter around my body.

Outside the entrance, I catch my breath and let my heart rate come down a notch.

All this time, I’ve been so obsessed with signs that I let myself think that I didn’t have any choice. I grit my teeth in the cold, even though I’m overheating at the thought that this realization has come too late. That I’ve irreparably scared Jack away from any kind of future with me, that he might not believe he’s the one I choose.

I fight back premature tears. I should go back to my apartment to pack. Or I could go straight to the airport and board a flight to LAX. I’d go to My Spot to think but there’s no time for that now. I turn away from MoMA and start walking uptown when my phone rings with a number I don’t recognize. I answer, thinking maybe it’s another installation opportunity.

“Hi, I saw your number on the petal of a plastic rose,” the voice on the other end says.

Someone found the flower and actually called me. But why now, after three months? And why does the voice sound like Jack’s? I’m done for. He’s really in my head now.

“I’ve reworked some variables and think we should start over with Red String Theory 2.0,” the man says. “Fate Test 6: Write your number on something that can be found. Check.”

These words stop me in my tracks. It is Jack.

I spin around and look up, expecting to see him. Instead, there’s a row of giant white signs duct-taped to traffic light poles, bike racks, trees, and garbage cans. It looks as though the cue cards from Saturday Night Live have escaped and are making their way uptown. They flap noisily as another gust blows through the streets. I rule out that Love Actually 2 is filming for real this time when I see “Red String Theory 2.0” written on the first poster. There’s an arrow pointing to the next sign, which reads “Fate Test 5: Go the wrong direction on purpose.”

I take ten steps in the opposite direction of the arrow on the sign until I reach the next sign secured to a bike rack. “Fate Test 4: Interact with someone online. (Look at your phone.)”

On my screen, there’s a notification about a direct chat on my Cloud Lovers League app. I tap into it, and a photo of an overcast sky appears. In the upper portion of the picture is a cloud with puffs that form wings. It’s the butterfly! I look back up to the clouds, but it’s gone now. Are Jack and I sharing the same sky? My heart pounds harder against my rib cage. I “like” the photo to complete the interaction.

I keep walking down the avenue to the last poster that’s taped to a traffic pole. The words “Fate Test 3: Return a lost object. Take me to X marks the spot” are written in the center of the board with a red pen taped into the upper corner. My Discipline Pen. The one I gave Jack one year ago. I shouldn’t be surprised to learn that he kept it all this time. I peel back the tape, grab the pen, and practically run to My Spot.

I move quickly down the alleyway until I reach the fence, where there’s another sign: “Our definitions of signs may be different… but what if they still lead us to the same place? Fate Test 2: Show up early or late to somewhere you’re supposed to be. Wait 10 seconds.”

A bright red string is taped to the board. I take it between my fingers and tug. There’s slight resistance. Something—or someone—is at the end of this string. I start the countdown in my head and slide sideways through the fence door, following the string to My Spot. A tingling sensation pulses through my body so strongly that it nearly makes me breathless.

The string shortens, the resistance when I pull becoming stronger. Inch by inch, I let the string guide me to my safe place. I follow it all the way up to the opening of my hideaway, where Jack stands with his back to me facing the “X” sculpture. His brown hair is wild from the wind. I give the string one last tug and trace its path down to his ankle, where it’s tied off.

I go numb at the sight of him. Jack’s here, in New York City, at My Spot. It’s just the two of us in this little world of our own, the city rushing around us.

“Jack. How are you—why are you…” I start, speechless.

“Rooney,” he says, taking a step closer to me. He burrows his chin into the Red Thread of Fate scarf I gave him when we first met.

Silence hangs between us, both of us searching each other’s eyes as if everything can be communicated like this. In a way, it can. In his eyes, I see his apology, a glimmer of belief, and a look of what, I hope, might still be love. I know because I’m looking at him in the exact same way.

“I believe this is yours,” I say, handing Jack the red pen.

He takes it, our gaze never breaking once. “I was wrong. I don’t want distance. I don’t want another day to go by where we’re apart.”

“Me neither, but what about your job?” I ask. “I don’t want to compromise any—”

“I’m not your liaison anymore.”

I blink. “You left the program?”

Jack nods firmly. “Before you say anything, I don’t regret it. My reason for joining it was to get ahead at work. But it ended up being the best thing I’ve ever done for other reasons. Personal reasons.”

Heat rushes to my face. “Won’t that affect your promotion, though?”

“I’ll find another opportunity. Brian sent me a couple of groups that he’s been a part of and enjoyed. One day a promotion will happen. But every day we’re not together feels like a waste,” Jack says. His expression is loose, as though the weight of the world has been lifted off his shoulders.

“You’ve been busy these past two weeks,” I say, still trying to process everything I’ve just heard. “You didn’t have to but thank you for doing that. For us.”

“I’m just sorry I didn’t do it sooner,” he says. “I had it in my head that I wanted you to choose me in the way that I viewed being chosen. The way I thought I wanted to be chosen.”

“You were fair to feel that. I know it can be hard to be away from those you love. I don’t want my childhood, either. Traveling for my art will be a thing, and I hope that we can do it together, but it won’t be constant. You’ll never be left behind. I want to be selective with what I take on.”

“We’ll go wherever we need to, together, for the world to see your creations,” he says. “I’m tired of being scared.”

I nod, quietly listening as he continues.

“In your own way, you were choosing me,” Jack says. “We were chosen for each other, maybe. And I don’t want to let you down. What we felt for each other, what I think we still feel, doesn’t require choice or fate. What we have is bigger than those things combined. I want to follow our lantern and see where it takes us.”

His words tug at my heartstrings, pulling them tighter and tighter until I’m breathless.

“Jack, I want that journey, too,” I say.

Jack’s eyes glisten. “We make new discoveries all the time,” he says. “And we’re capable of change. Right, Lobster Girl?”

I smile. “Whether we were brought together by the pull of a red string, the whisper of a love spell, the concoction of a love potion, or a series of decisions, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that we found each other, and that we choose each other,” I say, my words rushing out in excitement.

“You’re everything I didn’t know I wanted,” Jack tells me. “You weren’t part of any plan I ever thought up for myself. The moment I met you, all the plans I made failed on impact. In science, we search for the truth. Hope for it. But in this search, I was one discovery away from something that changed every truth I’ve ever known. One discovery, one person, one change of heart away from my soulmate.”

“Something I once learned over table dumplings is that it’s what you do after that makes all the difference,” I say. “Fate could bring you to me a million times, but if I don’t choose you, if you don’t choose me, then what’s the point?”

“An excellent hypothesis,” he says. Jack’s serious expression dissolves into something lighter, happier. “It’s my new life’s mission to show you how much you mean to me.” He clears his throat, pausing for a moment. “How much I love you.”

“You love me,” I repeat. “And not just in theory?”

Jack pulls me in closer. “All evidence points to yes. I love how clever and creative you are. You inspire me endlessly. You show up for yourself and your work, even when you’re unsure of both. You keep pushing through. I love your irrational fear of butterflies. That you wear heavy knit sweaters in the summertime.”

“I can’t help myself,” I say.

He glides his thumb over my cheek, gazing into my eyes. “I love how every time you smile, this constellation on your beautiful face reminds me that there are worlds beyond what we can measure or see. One that requires believing.”

“Jack, I love you, too,” I say, wrapping my arms around his waist. “In fact, my love for you is a universe that’s expanding faster than I could’ve anticipated.” Jack smiles at this as I add, “I admire that you take what you care about seriously. I also love that you’ll follow me around a city to chase a lantern.”

“I’d follow you anywhere,” he says in a low, soft voice.

I pull Jack tighter against me. “You’re curious about the cosmos, even when you’re just as mysterious. I want to get to know every part of you. I’ll create my own Deep Jack Network and send out missions to uncover those unknowns.” This last bit makes him laugh out loud, a noise that will never get old. “I even love that you’re bad at figures of speech but are weirdly good at puns.”

“Anything for my solar-mate,” he says, playing up the sincerity. Jack gives my arms a light squeeze. “So I can still be your stringmate?”

“There could never be another,” I say as I hold my hands against his face and stare into his eyes. Whatever it is between us is now untangled, free of knots, and as clear as the moon on a cloudless night.

“It’s like your Fate Note says, ‘This is how it works.’” Jack speaks quietly. “There’s no science to it. But it’s so obvious to me now. There was something bigger at play. I may not know what, exactly, but I can’t ignore it any longer. Rooney, you make my world turn. Now you’ve seen the signs. There’s one last test to complete Red String Theory 2.0.” He turns the final sign around.

“‘Fate Test 1,’” I whisper, reading the sign out loud. “‘Say yes to something you normally wouldn’t.’”

“Will you give me a second chance? Will you still say yes?” he asks.

“Jack, if saying yes means being together, then yes a million times.”

His grin is like sunshine on this cold day. I’m immediately thawed, practically melting. The crinkles around his eyes deepen. How I’ve missed those eyes.

“I’m choosing to kiss you now,” he says. “Is that all right?”

I rest my forehead against his. “Now that is meant to happen.”

Jack eliminates any remaining distance between us. He hungrily presses his lips on mine, the tips of our cold noses smushed up against one another. This kiss unravels me, the thread unspooling wildly through me. Jack trails his mouth down my cheek and neck, his hot breath warming the spot his lips hover over. Every touch warms my insides.

I find his mouth and tease it open again with mine. Between soft breaths, I tug his bottom lip between my teeth gently. He tastes like coffee and cinnamon and every cozy flavor that accompanies winter.

Snowflakes leisurely drift down from above, a real-life snow globe forming around us. It’s like life is handing me a metaphorical memento for somewhere I’ve never been before. It’s a place Jack and I will go together.

We’re two bodies made of stardust colliding, burning brighter and hotter than anything else in the universe. Two people on opposite ends of a string coming together after years of tangling and stretching, but never breaking.