Epilogue

-One Month Later-

I’ve lived more in this past month than I have the rest of my life—time loop exempt. Everything I wanted to do, I did. And more.

Most notably, I’ve started to enjoy my evenings. I unplug from work and cuddle with Grant. Usually, we go for dinner at his place, but then come back to mine to sleep. Rhiannon has been staying there and, even though she hasn’t said anything, we can tell a male presence is a bit much for her at times.

Wherever we are, I’m just happy to be with him.

Most of the time. Today, he’s acting weird. Different than usual weird. Less talk about different types of spaceships in popular media and more… twitchy. If I were interrogating him, it’d be easy to push him until he cracks. I could have him singing about whatever’s on his mind in minutes.

But I don’t do that because we’re in a healthy, loving relationship. Grant even wrote it on one of the blank back pages of Dr. Debbie’s book: You do not push the ones you love until they snap like a twig.

I wait patiently (not my strong suit) for Grant to get over whatever weirdness he’s going through and talk to me. I do not want to spend my Saturday tiptoeing around each other.

I go to the kitchen and start inventorying what we have food-wise to prepare to grocery shop. Eventually, I decide I’m no longer capable of passive aggressively counting produce. If he’s not going to talk, then I’m going to make him.

“Grant,” I say.

“Hailey,” he says at the same time.

My feet carry me back into the living room. Grant’s waiting in there, with love in his eyes and a tremor in his hands.

“What’s going on?”

Grant takes a deep breath and drops to one knee.

“Hailey,” he says in a practiced tone that still comes out adorably vulnerable. “It’s hard for me to believe that I could ever get someone as perfect as you, but it’s even harder for me to argue fate. Ever since the laser thing, I know in my bones that you’re the one for me. Then, there was the whole time loop thing. The universe literally brought us together to do some good in the world. Fate has shown us time and time again that we are meant to be together. So, Hailey, love of my life, will—”

He’s interrupted by a knock at the door.

We pause. Considering that I live in an apartment it’s pretty weird that someone’s knocking on the door. It can’t be just a random person passing by.

“We haven’t been too loud lately, have we?”

Grant shrugs. “Maybe they’ll go away?”

They don’t. The knocking becomes more insistent. Each bang at the door resounds with an authority that makes me shiver.

I know it’s impossible to know who’s at the door based solely on a knock—but I know who’s at the door.

Without even thinking about it, I start walking towards the door.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Grant says, getting off his knees.

“I think I do.”

Whatever it is that he has to say will only become worse the longer he’s left waiting.

“Reinhold,” I say when I answer the door. It’s barely a greeting. It’s certainly not an invitation to enter.

It doesn’t matter. He pushes past me and ingratiates himself into my home.

“You have a nice place.” He takes a seat on my couch and sets down his briefcase on my coffee table. His eyes linger over the art on my wall—a Monet print. “Although your art fails to make an impression on visitors. Would you like to connect with the painter responsible for the art in my office?”

Right, because when I’m trying to unwind at the end of a long day, viscera and violence are what I want on my walls.

“No. Why are you here?”

The corner of Reinhold’s lips twitches. “I do appreciate that you’re direct. If your new law firm venture doesn’t work out for you, you have a place on my team.”

“No. Why are you here?”

His mouth twitches again. Seriously, has this guy never learned to smile before? Missed that day in super villain pre-school?

“Loose ends,” he says simply. “Please have a seat.” He gestures to the two armchairs that flank the coffee table.

I would ask who he thinks he is, inviting me to sit in my own home, but the answer is clear: he’s Reinhold Cragg. So, I sit.

“First off, Mr. Hart would like to thank you for your dedication towards environmental issues. We were unaware of the issues regarding the marine life around our facility. We appreciate you bringing them to our attention.”

Grant sits in the other armchair, watching with apprehension. I give a subtle shake of my head. I don’t think I’ll need him to step in. Reinhold didn’t bring any muscle, so I think this is my battle to fight.

If this even is a battle.

“You admit to polluting?” I ask.

Reinhold’s face goes even stonier. “Not in the slightest. Hart Link Incorporated is dedicated to upholding the very best environment practices and we have never wavered on that. The aquatic life was never harmed, only displaced.”

I stare him down. “Displaced? Just went on a little vacation? The entire ecosystem?”

“You should really ask for clarification instead of making assumptions, Miss Cox. The marine life was displaced in time, not place. Although, I’d prefer it if you kept that information between us friends.”

Reinhold pulls out an envelope from his briefcase. He considers it for a moment. “That being said, some of our Research and Development did impact the ecosystem, albeit temporarily. Although he is not legally required to, Mr. Hart feels so much remorse over the inadvertent actions of his company that he has made a sizeable donation to local, ocean preservation initiatives.”

How kind.

Not that I trust that at all.

“Why are you telling me this?”

He smiles a smile that only makes him look more sinister. “You were paramount in helping our errors be corrected. If Mr. Hart weren’t the philanthropic good doer he is, you would have taken us to court and you would have won. We would have paid out a sizeable amount to correct our wrongdoing and your firm would have taken a cut. Mr. Hart has decided to give your new legal firm the cut it would have received.”

He hands me the envelope.

I don’t look inside. Not yet.

“You just decided to do the right thing, out of the generosity of your own heart, at personal cost for no reason?” I ask.

Reinhold clucks his tongue. “Mr. Hart decided to. I advised against it since this leaves our company in a slightly more vulnerable position, legally speaking.”

At least he’s honest.

“How benevolent.”

Reinhold considers this. “Yes and no. It is very important to Mr. Hart that the right sort of law firms succeed. Yours, he believes is the right kind. I’ll have you know that I provided personal testimony of your thoroughness.”

“I’m touched.”

Despite the fact that I said that with all the venom I could muster, I am. After I quit, Beth followed suit, along with a couple more lawyers who thought Felton amp; Nichols had strayed a little too far from our mission. We’ve only just got up and running and this donation, whatever it is, will certainly help.

Still, there has to be a catch.

“Have you fixed your time-displacement problem?”

Again, Reinhold goes still. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean by ‘time-displacement’.” His face is serious, like he didn’t just tell me about it a minute ago. “However, I can say that there are no current…bugs with any of our technology.”

“Was that what happened to Grant and I? A bug in your Research and Development?”

I don’t expect an answer, so I’m surprised when Reinhold leans forward and answers. “Your situation, Miss Cox, was a switch flicked to the wrong setting. An easily avoidable human error that was incredibly easy to make.”

His voice is light, but there’s no mistaking the threat that lurks in its undertones.

“Why are you telling us all this?”

Reinhold pulls out more documents from his briefcase and slides one apiece towards us. Even at a glance, I can see them for what they are: Non-disclosure agreements.

“You want us to sign an NDA?”

“Mr. Hart would prefer that you do. He does enjoy loose ends to be adequately snipped.”

I start reading, but immediately have to start re-reading it. This is the most iron-clad, restrictive agreement I’ve ever seen. If we sign, we’d be agreeing to not talk about not only Hart Link’s role in our time loop, but anything at all. We couldn’t mention a single thing that ever happened.

“We’re not signing this.”

Reinhold shrugs, a casual, dangerous gesture. “Mr. Hart would prefer that you do.”

“And you?” I ask. As a lawyer, getting people to sign contracts is tantamount to winning.

“Personally, I don’t care.”

“Why’s that?”

For the first time, Reinhold smiles and it reaches his eyes. It is singlehandedly the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen. Whatever brings him genuine joy, strikes fear deep into my soul.

“You must have realized by now that I am entirely devoted to Mr. Hart and far less scrupulous than he.”

“I have,” I answer, feeling the threat choke the air around us.

“So you’ll know that I don’t give a fuck if you sign or not because I realize that a smart girl like you will understand why it is you won’t say a word by the time I walk out of here.”

Without another word, he stands, nods and leaves. As he’s walking out the door. “Send me the signed contracts on Monday.” He looks again at my Monet. “And I think I’ll send you a painting. A gift from me since we’ve become so close.”

Then, he’s gone.

Grant and I sit in silence for several minutes.

“We’re not signing these, are we?” Grant asks.

“We are.”

“Why?”

I shake my head because Reinhold is right. Signing the contracts is inconsequential. I’m never, as long as I live, going to do anything that could risk the wrath of Hart Link.

“Because, with a flip of a switch, they could put us in a time loop for thousands of years if we ever say anything.”

They could put us in a time loop and keep us there for eons. When they finally end it, we would be mad with the weight of eternity while no time would have passed at all for them. And they could pass it all off as a simple mistake—human error.

Terrifying.

We sit in silence for several minutes of the weight of our own futility sinks in.

“Just to be clear, now would not be a good time to propose, right?”

I nod. “To propose would be to tempt fate. We are, after all, just flies. Buzzing around with our pointless personal dramas.”

To my surprise, Grant just squeezes my hand and kisses my cheek. “Sounds good.”

It’s flippant enough to pull me out of my nihilistic revelry.

“Sounds good?”

“I know Mr. Cragg got in your head, but I’m always going to believe in fate. Even if Mr. Hart did make the time loop, we’re the ones, just two out of everyone in the world, who got stuck in it. That’s fate.” I go to argue, but he holds up a hand to stop me. Well, I don’t love that. “You and I are forever, so I’m just going to sit back and trust that fate will have us married one day.”

And then, Grant flips on the damn television like the conversation is over.

I turn it off.

“So you’re just going to leave all the wedding planning to fate?”

“Yep,” he says, popping the ‘p’. “You just have to promise to go along with it when fate drops a wedding in our laps.”

“Grant, that’s not how things happen in the real world. Weddings don’t just walk up to you and offer themselves up.”

Grant laughs—always with the laughing. “No offense, but you have a track record of being wrong about this sort of stuff.” Then, ever the infuriating optimist, he kisses me on the nose and flicks back on the TV. “Besides, I already changed our relationship status to soulmates on all our social media ages ago.”

I sigh, suddenly certain that the upcoming Coffee and Karaoke that Beth is planning is a surprise party of sorts.

Let’s just hope I won’t have to repeat that day when it comes.