Page 4 of Chasing Eternity (Stealing Infinity #3)

Oh, no.

No-no-no-no-no-no-no!

I race to stop her, but Elodie got a head start, so I’m literally three steps away from my dad when she’s already standing before him.

“I don’t mean to bother you,” she says. “But I wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”

I grind to a stop just beside her, holding my breath as I watch Elodie shoot my dad the sort of smoldering look that could easily set the whole city on fire.

I should’ve known she wasn’t joking about being my mom. If he flirts back, I honestly don’t know how I’ll react.

My dad squints, shifts his weight between his feet. “You sure you’re old enough to be here?” he asks, causing me to exhale with relief as one of his friends barks out a laugh.

“Sure looks that way.” Elodie grins. “I mean, seeing as how I’m standing here with you, holding a drink in my hand.”

At first, I’m confused. Having abandoned her drink back in the bar, both her hands are currently empty. But then I watch in shock as she seizes my dad’s beer from his grasp, tilts it to her lips, and takes a long, thirsty swig, all the while her eyes never once leaving his.

In any other time, on any other Trip, I might admire how brazen she is.

But not this time.

Not this Trip.

And definitely not when she’s targeted my dad as her next conquest.

I have to stop this. I have to intervene in some way. But how? What can I possibly do or say that won’t make things worse than they already are?

“And what about you?” Elodie asks. “Twenty-one for less than a day, and you’re already here.” She lifts the bottle of beer, about to take another sip, when my dad gently takes it from her and sets it on a table that’s noticeably out of her reach.

“How’d you know it’s his birthday?” asks one of his friends, a guy with red hair and a spattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks.

Elodie turns to him, grinning as though she’s delighted by the question. As for me, my belly is churning with anxiety. There’s no telling what she might say.

“And you are?” she asks, squinting at him.

“I’m Mark,” he says.

Elodie nods. “Well, Mark, my name’s Elodie,” she says, “Elodie Blue, and, as it turns out, I’m psychic.”

Mark laughs, and my dad looks on with a healthy dose of skepticism, as though he’s not quite sure what to make of the Elodie Blue Show.

“Psychic?” Mark repeats, his eyes narrowing with disbelief.

Elodie nods, like it’s no big thing.

“So, psychic,” another friend says, this one with wavy black hair and suntanned skin, “can you tell us what the future holds for the birthday boy, here?”

It’s all the encouragement she needs. But while Elodie is completely lit up, there’s no way I can let her go through with this.

“Elodie—” I start, desperate to stop this before it turns into a full-blown derailment. But Elodie is on a roll, the spotlight is hers, and she will not be deterred.

“May I?” Ignoring me, she gestures toward my dad’s hand, and with notable, if not reassuring reluctance, he agrees to play along. “Now, let’s see…” She traces a light finger over the lines of his palm. “You’re a student at Columbia University, am I right?”

Mark slaps my dad on the back, but my dad merely nods in return.

“And you have a real aptitude for numbers.” She presses her index finger against a soft, curving line, as though she gleaned the information from there, as opposed to the file of my family history that she pretty much memorized. “You’re considering a career as an accountant, mainly because it seems stable enough. But you’re also a bit of an adventurer at heart, so you worry about getting stuck in one place for too long.”

She looks to him for confirmation, only to find my dad’s brow is furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin, grim line.

Elodie goes on about a possible move to California, followed by marriage, and kids, or rather, a kid . “Just the one, and most likely, a girl.” She draws a finger over a short line at the side of his hand. Then finally, mercifully, releasing him, she adds, “You know what’s weird, though? You look like you could be related to my friend Natasha, here. Your eyes are the same shade of green. Same shape, too. Is it possible you’re family? Distant cousins, long-lost siblings separated at birth?”

All eyes pivot my way, as if they’ve just now become aware of my existence. And though I’m used to being eclipsed by Elodie, when my dad shifts his focus to me, and his gaze locks onto mine, it’s like all the oxygen is sucked out of the room, and I find myself longing for the comfort of being invisible again.

But that’s only because I’m afraid of what happens next. There’s so much riding on this moment—not just for me, but for time itself. And though I’ve rehearsed this reunion in my head a thousand times since I first dreamed up the plan, I guess I always fast-forwarded to the part where we we’re both hugging and crying, so overcome with emotion for all that we’ve lost, and all that we still stand to gain, in the brief time we have left.

What I failed to imagine was everything that would happen leading up to that point. Especially the most important part when I break the news— Surprise! I’m your daughter from the future! —which I know I can’t exactly say, but I’m so nervous, there’s no telling what might pop out of my mouth.

From some distant place, I vaguely register one of my dad’s friends saying, “Wow. The resemblance truly is…uncanny.”

But in the liminal space I currently occupy, it feels like the world around me has gone dark, leaving only a single point of light that encompasses both me and my dad.

Tell him. Seize the moment, and do it, already. There is literally no time to waste!

I continue to gaze at my dad, wishing there was some way to convey it all with a look, since I’ve failed to come up with the appropriate words.

The silence is broken by the sound of Elodie clearing her throat, making me realize just how weirdly uncomfortable this probably is for everyone else.

Though I also know that, in her own, also weirdly uncomfortable way, Elodie has unlocked the door, and now it’s on me to kick it wide open and get what I came for.

And yet, I can’t exactly tell him with everyone watching. I need to find a way to get him alone, go someplace quiet where the two of us can talk. And then I’ll—

“Natasha?”

The sound of my dad saying my name is enough to send a ripple of shivers skipping like stones down the length of my spine.

It’s been ten long years since I heard his voice.

Ten long years since he was the single most important person in my world.

“You’re bleeding.” He gestures toward the arm I’d been unconsciously rubbing that’s now streaked with red.

Between that, the pink stain trailing down the front of my shirt, and my belly button and hip bones on full display, what a stellar first impression I must make.

“Oh, um…” I swallow hard, forcing myself to play it cool. “It’s nothing. Just…not a big deal.”

“May I take a look?” he asks.

With my heart hammering wildly, I bite down on my lip and offer my hand, half expecting him to distract me with a song or a story as he tends to the wound, just like he did when I was a kid.

“You should get this cleaned up,” he says, eyes narrowed as though weighing this strange situation he finds himself in. “You don’t want it to get infected.”

I swallow hard, sneak a quick peek at Elodie who’s now reading Mark’s palm, advising him to buy stock in Google, Apple, and a little start-up called Netflix, then I return to my dad.

“Um, yeah.” I shrug. “We don’t want that.” I try to laugh, but my throat is so raw, it comes out sounding like a record scratch.

“It really is remarkable.” His gaze lingers on me, contemplative and intense. “There’s something so familiar about you. Something that goes beyond the eyes.”

I bite my bottom lip so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if I start bleeding there, too.

“Maybe we are related.” He laughs nervously. “What’s your last name?”

I take a deep breath, and with my voice lowered to nearly a whisper, I say, “Clarke. My name is Natasha Antoinette Clarke.”

Then I wait, taking note of the sharp intake of breath, the way his eyes widen and his jaw slackens. This is my chance, the only one I may get, so I clear my throat and continue. “And, I hope this doesn’t seem weird, but if we could go someplace more…” I take a quick look around. “Well, someplace more private, there’s something important I need to tell you.”

I pause, anxious to hear what he’ll say. Only my dad doesn’t immediately respond like I hoped. He doesn’t spring into action and whisk me away.

Instead, he remains frozen in place, staring at me like he’s just seen a ghost. Which I totally get, because I feel the same way.

“What’s this about?” he finally says, his voice a mix of the same sort of anticipation and dread I currently feel.

“It’s about…” I hesitate, aware of the weight of everything still unsaid pressing against me, urging me to share the truth before it’s too late and the moment has passed.

It’s about dropping a bombshell—a startling revelation that transcends time itself.

It’s about the Antikythera Mechanism getting dangerously close to being restored.

It’s about Arthur Blackstone’s plans to control time and remake the world.

It’s about your premature death, and how I need you to teach me everything you never had a chance to…

“Natasha,” my dad breathes, his voice slicing through the charged air like a finely tuned blade.

I take another look at Elodie to see she’s now predicting the other guy’s future. Still, knowing I can’t risk being overheard, I press a finger to the wound on my palm. Then, using my own blood and the tip of my fingernail, I set about drawing a series of crude, interlocking circles meant to represent the flower of life, on the crook of my forearm.

As I complete the final arc, I chance a look at my dad just in time to see him blink, once, twice. When his eyes reconnect with mine, there’s a shared understanding that goes beyond spoken words.

“It’s about…” I stall, aware of the world, once again, whittling down to just him and me. Then, sensing it’s now or never, I lean closer and whisper, “It’s about…a family lineage thing.”

The words pulse between us. The air tightens with the weight of my words.

“My God,” he breathes, his gaze drinking me in as though he’s not sure if I’m real. “Are you—” He shakes his head. “Is this—”

My eyes fill with tears. “It’s real,” I say, choking down a sob that leaves my throat tender and burning. “It’s really happening. It’s not an Unraveling.”

He nods quickly, but the uncertain glint in his eyes reveals he’s still trying to process, wrap his head around it, make sense of the completely inexplicable situation I’ve put us both in.

If I weren’t the one who traveled back nearly three decades in time, I’m sure I’d feel the same way.

“And the thing is,” I continue, voice steady but urgent, knowing that this, most of all, is what needs to be said. “I’m here because…” I inhale a breath, and on the exhale, I say, “Well, Dad, I’m in desperate need of your help.”