Page 14 of Parallel

His frown deepens. “One problem. Quinn’s never been out of the country.”

The hairs on the back of my neck go up. She knew about the swimming, and she knew I was in London. How? I only got back to the States last summer and I’ve been dating Meg the entire time.

The guy is staring me down like a detective waiting for the perp to confess. I grit my teeth. I have no idea what’s going on here, but their interpersonal drama is not my concern. “Like I said before, people say a lot of things when sedated. Anyhow, since this is the second episode in a week, I’d like her to remain overnight. I’ll get her on the schedule for an MRI in the morning.”

“She’s not going to like that,” he says. “She’s going to want to get back to work.”

I glance over at her. I’ve certainly encountered workaholic patients who insist they’re too busy to get a test that could save their lives, but she looks so calm right now, so peaceful, that it’s hard to imagine her being one of them. I think she’s an architect—I must have seen it in her chart—and not to demean her profession, but it’s not like the fate of the world rests in her hands. “She needs an MRI,” I reply, my voice hard and unyielding. “So I’d suggest you make sure she gets it.”

He looks taken aback, but I don’t care. I just need to get the fuck out of this room.

I’m not much of a drinker, but I need a damn drink. I call Jace, a friend who was in med school with me and then wound up at the same hospital years later. His wife and Meg have become friends, which should make me happy, but instead makes me feel a little trapped.

I meet him at Clyde’s, a few blocks from the hospital. It hasn’t changed since we were in school—same wood bar, tightly packed tables, dim lighting. He casts a glance at the double scotch in my hand and grins. “Heard you and Meg are moving in together. Is that why we’re hitting the heavy stuff before dinner?”

For a moment, the words don’t even register, and then I laugh unhappily. “We aren’t moving in together. She’s going to stay at my place until she finds something else. But it appears you’ve heard otherwise.”

“Maybe I misunderstood,” he says with a smirk. A smirk that says what we both know, which is that he didn’t misunderstand anything at all. “So, what’s up?”

I take a sip of my scotch and then set it down, staring straight ahead at the mirror behind the bar. “I’m going to tell you something that sounds crazy.”

“I doubt it’ll sound all that crazy to me,” he replies. Jace is an obstetrician. Of all our friends, he tends to have the most bizarre stories—patients who’ve contracted sexually transmitted diseases from pets, a woman with a baby hanging between her legs by the umbilical cord as she exits the elevator.

“This may even top one of your stories,” I tell him, hesitating before I start to recount what happened this afternoon. It’s so surreal I’m starting to wonder if I’ve gotten the facts wrong. “I walk into a patient’s room today. A new patient. She’s sedated and her eyes are closed, but when I get to her bedside she seems to know who I am.” I pause, taking another sip of scotch. “She knew that I swim every morning. She knew I was in London for my residency. And then she says something about how we were married.”

Jace tips his head. “Come on, bro. She’s fucking with you.”

“How? Her eyes were closed. She’d never even met me.”

He shrugs. “You had a million fangirls when you were swimming. She’s probably some superfan and knew you’d be the one treating her.”

I shake my head. “I really don’t think so. She knew way too much, and she said it all in front of her fiancé, who was clearly unhappy about it, by the way.”

“What other explanation is there? Unless you believe in psychics.”

I stare at my drink. “Here’s the thing: I’ve seen her before. I mean, not in real life. I’ve dreamed about her.” Jace is looking at me like I’m crazy, which I can hardly fault him for. I wonder if this is how I look at my patients sometimes. God, I hope not. “I know this sounds nuts, but I swear I’ve dreamed about her. And in those dreams we’re definitely together, and then here she is today telling me we’re married. I mean, I know it’s not true, but it’s like I’m somehow not connecting to a huge part of my memory.”

He raises a brow. “Well, no matter what has happened and no matter what you feel, she’s still your patient. You can’t act on it.”

I scowl at him. “Of course I’m not going to act on it,” I reply. “Give me a little credit. I’m just trying to figure out what the hell is going on.”

He appears unimpressed by this situation, like it’s an every-day occurrence to feel intensely attached to a patient you’ve never met, and then have her claim to be your wife. “Look, you probably had a dream about a girl who looks vaguely like her, nothing more. And then your mind drew these connecting lines where they don’t exist. The real question is why you’re doing it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leans on the bar, swinging his stool to face me. “Don’t you think the timing of it is a little suspect? Your fear of commitment is legendary, and now the minute you and Meg start moving in together, bam, you decide you’ve been dreaming about a patient you’ve never met. You’re freaking out and looking for the escape hatch. Nothing more.”

“We aren’t moving in together,” I mutter, swirling the ice in my empty glass.

“Fine, whatever,” he says. “You and Meg are moving forward. Same thing.”

Fuck. I want to be someone who can do that, move a relationship forward. I want it to be with Meg. But the fact that I’m now feeling so attached to a complete stranger tells me I’m definitely not ready to do so. And a piece of me wonders if Quinn Stewart is the reason why.

7

QUINN

Nick and I are in our favorite pub. It’s a recent find, and though the drinks are overpriced, the music is amazing—it’s mostly British bands, but they play a fair amount of older stuff from home. “Everlong” by Foo Fighters comes on and most of the bar starts singing. I’ve never given the lyrics much thought but as we sing-shout them tonight, I realize how perfect they are. It’s a song about love, perhaps a slightly obsessive love, and meeting someone you waited for, maybe before you even knew he existed. I have goose bumps when it concludes.