turn to him again. “Did Iris confront them? Mom and Beckett, I mean?”
“Not Beckett. She came to me first, and I told her she should talk to your mother. So she told Melanie what she’d overheard, and that she wasn’t willing to let him do the cloning. That he was just trying to take advantage of Melanie’s grief to get what he wanted. There was no way he could bring her back—the clone wouldn’t be the same person she was.”
I see the instant Jake realizes he’s referring to me. He shifts uncomfortably.
“Why didn’t Iris go to Dad?” I ask him.
“Your mother promised she’d forget the whole thing since it upset Iris so much. She asked Iris not to tell Adam because he’d be angry that she’d considered going against his wishes.”
“She lied.” I stare outside at the cars in the parking lot. “I don’t know how to feel about any of this. Who am I? What am I?”
“You’re you,” Ty says. “The same person you’ve always been.”
The rubber soles of the waitress’s shoes squeak as she approaches. She sets our bill on the table, then takes off again. “So you didn’t know Mom and Beckett went ahead with the procedure until I called you?” I ask Jake.
His brows cinch together above his glasses. “I knew. When I heard that Melanie was pregnant, I was suspicious. I went to Adam, ready to tell him everything. But Melanie had already confessed what she and Beckett had done. Later, Adam told me she’d miscarried, but I was never completely convinced.” He removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. “After Iris died and your folks disappeared, I got really depressed, and I told my mom everything. A part of me was hoping that they’d lied about the miscarriage. I knew that Beckett had convinced your mother that Iris and her clone would be the same person. That you would want the same things Iris had wanted. That everything . . . your feelings and interests, your very soul, would be identical. Iris didn’t believe that, and neither did I. But after she was gone, I wanted to think that some small part of her might’ve lived on.” A pall of sadness surrounds us as he lays his glasses on the table and picks up his coffee mug.
For the first time, I notice the wedding ring on his finger. “You’re married?”
“For six years now.” With pride, he adds, “I have a three-year-old son and a new baby girl.”
I’m sorry, I tell Iris. But she seems content, not upset. She wanted to find Jake to learn the truth, but I think she also needed to see him to make sure he’s happy. To know that his life is good.
Road weary, Jake twists his neck from side to side. “As much as you look like her, Lily,” he says, “and despite all the things you have in common, I can see that you’re your own person; you aren’t Iris. The two of you are completely separate. I think she’d be relieved to know that you have your own life and identity.”
I brace my forearms on the table and lean forward. “That’s not exactly true—what you said about Iris and me being completely separate, I mean.”
Jake frowns. “I don’t understand.”
“We’re something in between.”
Confusion wrinkles his brow. “What I meant is, you’d realize if you’d known her that—”
“I do know her,” I break in. “Iris sent me to you.”
Jake draws back, glancing between Ty and me. “Sorry. I’m not getting this.”
“She’s been insisting that I find you for a while now,” I say.
“Iris talks to you?”
I nod. “I hear her thoughts and she hears mine. She’s with me now.”
The color drains from his face.
Smiling, I say, “You think I’m crazy.”
“I don’t know what I think.”
“It doesn’t matter. Iris worked hard to make this possible. The two of us meeting, I mean. I’m not leaving until she has the chance to tell you whatever it is she needs to say.”
I sit back, wait. And then I hear her, as quiet as the flutter of a moth wing at the base of my brain. I smile. “She says that knowing you’re happy makes her happy, too. And that even though the two of you didn’t get your forever, the time you spent together meant everything to her.”
“Our forever . . .” With a stunned expression, Jake puffs out his cheeks and exhales a long breath. “Iris always said that.”
A short laugh slips past my lips. “Oh, and one