“Hopefully back to the barn,” says Assassin August. “If it’s worked like it should, we can retrace our steps.”

  “And really get home?” Her excitement is tinged with nervousness, accompanied by a side glance at Shashi.

  “I hope so,” I tell her.

  Christ, I hope I haven’t misjudged this. Messed it all up even more.

  Assassin August passes a worried glance over my shoulder, and I know who he’s looking for.

  “Are the other Augusts alright?”

  “They’re all alright,” he says. “But with everyone awake again, someone will let them loose before long, if they haven’t already.” He holds up his hand, still clutching the Particle Stasis Displacement Pulser. “We were able to sneak away through the crowd, but I’m worried they’ll detect the rift and find us.”

  “It’s okay. If this worked like I hope it did, pretty soon that fifty million credits should be wiped. Along with everything else that’s on August’s inter-universal perp sheet. Let’s go.”

  August grabs my hand. “Together, okay?”

  I drop a kiss on his cheek. “Yeah. From now on.”

  Before another disaster can catch up with us, we walk into the shimmering rift. For the first time, I’m not on the run, desperately tumbling through, trying to escape. I’m walking towards something hopeful. A tingling warmth ensconces me, a buzzing vibration through August’s hand, up my arm, all through me, but around us too. He never lets go.

  The crackle of crisp hay sounds beneath my foot as the hayloft swims into view, gloriously lit by a blaze of afternoon sunshine. The smell hits me first, fresh and rural and so real. The smell of England. The smell of springtime. Of life.

  “Slayer…” He grips my hand a little tighter, looking at me with purest love. “You did it. You actually did it!”

  It’s real, all of it—real and tactile, solid and beautiful. The most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

  Until I see his smile.

  This is what it feels like to have someone you love feel proud of you. To view you with complete and unadulterated adoration. It’s flooring, and the only thing that can ground me is his kiss.

  When the others stumble through, when he turns to help them, I collapse down onto a hay bale. One of the hay bales we moved with our own hands. How long ago? Has it been seconds since we left? Hours? Years?

  Textures never looked so gorgeous before—the grain of the wood, the precision and delicacy of a spider’s web, the rusting metal bolts in the ceiling. All of it, every piece, stardust older than human comprehension, formed into miracle after miracle after miracle. Forces of nature so complex, so beautiful. But none so complex or compelling as our love.

  “Do you need to rest?” August’s hand on my cheek, his words soft and close over the voices of the group, the living celebration of what we’ve done.

  “No. I want to get home. I want to get started on our new life. Right away.”

  He pulls me to my feet. “We’ve already started. Nothing’s going to stop us now.”

  We retrace our path, out of the barn, across the paddock, along the riverbank to what we hope is the place we plunged into the water. Our walk back is, of course, far slower than when we were being chased by that lunatic future August. And I realise what a pleasure this is, to experience something with my August, with my friends, that no one else from my time can ever touch. The world as it was so long ago, but just as precious as ours is.

  It’s night when we find our way to Primrose Hill. We had to ask directions from a local, and that didn’t go well. Then it’s all we can do to stand around and hope the time slip ends.

  Under cover of night, we climb to the top. It feels morbid to get onto the still-erected scaffold, but it feels worse to sit beneath it, so we settle a little way down the hill, and lie on the grass. The barn might have been a nicer resting spot, certainly a warmer one, but when August drapes his arms around me to keep me warm, I’m more than okay with this.

  The stars are brilliant, brighter than I’ll ever see them again in the centre of London. Bright and in their place, for now and forever, because I fell in love. With myself.

  We lie there for hours, half dozing, until Jon and Assassin August stop fiddling with each other’s fingers long enough to notice, “Buildings! Buildings all the way!”

  I almost slip down the hill with August’s enthusiasm to get me on my feet. “The pub! We need to get to the pub!”

  There’s some commotion when we burst through the doors there, but none of us stop long enough to pay attention to it. We run through to the back room, slam the door behind us, and dive through the waiting portal.

  It’s with a mixture of extreme trepidation, then fierce relief, that we arrive back in our own time, if not our own reality. If any time passed here, it’s impossible to tell. It’s already dark outside, and as soon as I remember our pockets are stuffed full of the money we made breaking into the cafe, we’re on the move again, buying tickets at the station to get to Cambridge University, spending the rest on as much food as we can carry to eat on the way.

  The computer lab at Cambridge is empty but open, and the rift’s there too, waiting for us. Then, just on the other side, on a nondescript table, we find Assassin August’s particle accelerator. He closes the rift, pockets the accelerator, then we make for Jon’s van, and he drives us straight back to London.

  Everything’s in place, just as it should be. Every drop of water, sparkle of sunshine, winter breeze, and glint of leaves is fresh and new and precious. The food we scoff on the way is pure junk, yet it feels deeply nourishing. As does the music Jon blasts on the stereo, astounding Assassin August all over again.

  The company of these friends is precious to me, now more than ever. None of us are inclined to go far from one another, least of all my August, who’s never out of reach. But the group needs to part. Sleep’s been a distant memory for most of the past week. And a bed that I can actually sleep in? It’s a sensation I’ve almost forgotten.

  We say goodnight to Shashi and Amber first, then Jon automatically makes for mine.

  It’s a lot quieter without Shashi and Amber. There’s that feeling of a whole suddenly missing a piece. Both Jon and Assassin August are oddly quiet, the two of them in the front.

  My frazzled brain finally pumps out the logical piece of the next puzzle to be solved: logistics. “So, we’ve got three Augusts now,” I commence.

  Assassin August looks back at me a little nervously. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve got my accelerator. So I can go. Somewhere…”

  “You can’t go yet,” Jon blurts out, watching Assassin August more than he’s watching the road, which is making me kind of anxious. “We just got back.”

  “I… um…” Assassin August stares out his window into the bleak dark of a British winter. “I hadn’t thought it through. I kind of expected us to die.”

  So I tell him, “August, you’re clearly coming home with us.”

  My own August bumps my knee with his. I guess this other August did try to kill him. But since then, he’s been really nice. He also tried to save both of us. And if we’ve learned anything, it’s that no Augusts are perfect.

  “That’s really kind.” Assassin August glances at Jon when he says it, catching his eye easily, since Jon seems barely able to keep his eyes off August.

  “Won’t that be bad?” says Jon. “All you Augusts in there together? Aren’t you supposed to be not doing that?”

  My August dips his head to rest it on my shoulder. “Have you got a better idea, Jon?” He glances up at me with a quiet smile.

  “Would it maybe help if—and you know, this is just an idea that just came to me, just now… but do you think it would help if… Because I’ve got space…” Glancing at Assassin August again. “Only if you wanted to.”

  “Oh.” Assassin August sits up like a puppy who’s just heard a tin being opened. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

  “It’s not imposing. I have plenty of room.”

  “I mean, only if you’re really sure.”

  “Of course I’m sure.”

  “Because you don’t have to. I could sleep in the van.”

  “Oh. Did you want to sleep in the van?”

  “I don’t mean that I want to—I—it’s only if…”

  August chuckles and drops a kiss on my cheek.

  They’re adorable.

  Not as adorable as us, but it’s sweet to watch.

  We let them prattle on for the rest of the trip, my eyes getting heavier with every kilometre, until eventually we’re able to say our goodnights with an agreement they’ll come see us tomorrow.

  Finally alone together, August and I stumble into my small but increasingly adored little flat, turn on the heater, crawl into bed, and sleep for a solid twelve hours.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  ACTUALLY NOT SO

  BAD AUGUST

  It’s late afternoon the following day when I finally open my eyes.

  August’s room. August’s bed.

  It’s incredibly peaceful in here, nothing but the rhythmic patter of rain on the window, accompanied by the occasional reassuring swish of a car somewhere.

  I’m the perfect temperature, knowing it’s crisp just beyond the window, but in here, it’s magnificent.

  August’s side is flush with mine, his skin radiating that now-familiar throb of pleasure. I roll over, slipping an arm around his waist. It’s only when his hand drifts up to cover my wrist that I notice he’s awake. Wide awake, staring at the ceiling.

  My stomach sinks.

  The kiss I place on his shoulder brings a little smile to his face, a softening of the hard eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  That pretend smile I know too well. “Nothing.”

  “Are you worried about whether we put it back right?”

  “Yeah. A bit.”

  “I think…” I kiss his shoulder again. “It all seemed right. I can’t imagine all those pathways lining up like they did if it wasn’t.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s… It’s not just that.”

  Here it comes. The reality of us. And the irony isn’t lost on me, that we’ve been trying so hard to get reality back in place, all the while living in a fantasy.

  How long has he been awake, thinking this over?

  I give him time to work up to whatever he wants to say, to get his thoughts straight. And I give him time because I don’t want to hear it. I want to go back to sleep, curled up with him, and never hear whatever it is.

  But I gave him my heart, and now it’s his to break. If that’s what he needs to do, I’ll understand. After all, what kind of shitty boyfriend does the damage I did? The damage he almost died fixing.

  “I love you.” His voice breaks when he says it, drawing my eyes just in time to see a tear slide down to the pillow.

  “Why are you crying?” When I touch his face, he rolls over towards me, shrinking into me. I want to wring it all out of him, whatever sadness is cutting him off from me. But all I can do is put my arms around him and hold him close.

  His head’s sunk against my chest. I stroke his hair until he’s calmer. Until he says, “If you have to go…” and drifts off there.

  I thrust the bedcovers back, reaching for his chin to make him look at me. “Are you serious right now?”

  A bashful, typically August blush colours his cheeks, his eyes skittering away from me. “You’ll want to know, won’t you? That it’s all back?”

  “I don’t care.”

  He smiles a sad smile. “That’s very sweet of you to say, but I know you do.” Turning onto his front, his side pressed against me, “I know how sad you always were. And how hard you fought. And I can’t imagine you’d give up on all of it, that peace of mind…”

  “You’re my peace of mind.” His head dips against my shoulder. “I told you that, and I meant it.”

  “But what if something happens? You and me… How can we work this out? They said, the Augusts, it’s one thing being in the same world, but being together…” I can barely understand him when he buries his face in the pillow, but I do make out, “I don’t think I can keep my hands off you.”

  “Is that what you’re worried about?” His head’s back against my chest, hiding his face. Christ, I love him. “August, look at me.”

  “No. I think I’ll kiss you.”

  “Then kiss me.”

  “And what? Destroy this world we just fixed?”

  “Kiss me.”

  It takes a moment, and needs the guidance of my fingertips, but he raises his head, eyes closed, and drops a gentle kiss on my lips.

  The spark is ever-present, gorgeous.

  Until he pulls back.

  “Do it again.”

  “August…”

  Pressing forward, kissing him, I keep him a little longer this time. Pleasing tingles tickle across our skin. I know he can feel it too. The kiss deepens, in his control now, his fingers scrunching into my arm.

  “Oh my god, do you see?” He shoves me off and rolls over onto his back. “You’re impossible.”

  I pursue him, catching him around the waist, kissing his neck. “That’s not what you said yesterday.”

  He tilts his head to allow me access. “Yesterday we were five hundred years in the future.”

  “And we weren’t impossible.” I kiss his jawline. “And we weren’t destructive.” I kiss the side of his mouth. “And we were going to do this.”

  Turning his face to me, it finally comes out. “Do you want to stay here with me?”

  “More than anything else in all of existence.”

  I can’t stop kissing him, even as he pours out all his worries in a harried stream of consciousness. “You can have it all back now. Your time and your old life, and your amazing job—you could probably get a Nobel Prize for what you did. And then there’s money. Because you must have lots more of that than I do, with your work. And it’s hard here. I’ve only got this place, and no real job, and-and you can’t have hot Coke at the cafe. At any cafe. And your movies and things that you grew up with and… and…”

  I press a finger to his beautiful lips. “I just want you.” I kiss them. “And I’m going to stay here and tell you that until you believe me. And then I’m going to stay here and tell you that for the rest of our lives.”

  His body yields to my caresses, and I pull him to me, face to face.

  “You know what you’re like?” He raises an eyebrow in question. “You are like… the bridge of a song—the bit you can’t bear to turn off. The part where you pull up in your car at your destination, but you can’t get out. Instead, you sit there in the car park and blast the music as loud as you can because it’s impossible to stop. You’re that magic that makes life special. I couldn’t walk away from you. Not ever. What we have is beyond love, beyond time, beyond worlds. This is the most powerful force in the universe, and I feel it in my heart as much as I know it in my head. You’re my multiverse, August.”

  His smile is breathtaking, and this time he kisses me without reluctance, letting his precious hand fall gently on my chest. “That’s almost Bon Jovi level poetic.”

  “Almost? I’ll have to try harder.” And now, it’s more than kisses. I can’t resist him. Won’t resist him. Now it’s time to make it official in this world, along with all the others.

  I’m never going back. My life has meaning. Loving August. Caring for August. Being loved by the other half of me.

  Me.

  Maybe we are impossible.

  But that doesn’t make us any less right.

  EPILOGUE

  VERY GOOD AUGUST

  It’s been six months since we saved the multiverse, and we’re back at Koko to celebrate Jon’s first big London show. Only a few days after we returned, he dissolved Non Jovi to strike out with his own music. It took a bit of convincing the other guys in the band, but it turns out he’d been writing his own songs for a long time. And they’re good. Really good. He just hadn’t had the confidence to show anyone. Now, with the band’s old connections, they’re going from strength to strength.

  I’ve just been to the merch stand and bought the perfect thing. Admiring it in the bathroom mirror, I might be flexing a little. But I’ve been working on my arms, and the tank cut shows them off to perfection. And the midriff… Ugh, I hope August likes it.

  But as I make my way out of the bathroom, beneath the red glow of lights, I’m perfectly confident that he will. I’m always confident in us. He’s never let me wake up one morning without telling me he loves me, that I’m gorgeous, and that it’s all worth it.

  Of course, it hasn’t always been easy.

  When I told Mrs Huang my identical brother was coming to London, she said he could stay with me. That she wouldn’t even charge any extra rent. But August still had to wrangle a job, one he found working part time in the cafe with Kelly. We’ve been doing okay, saving what we can. Until today.

  A few months back, August forged a very impressive looking certificate from Manchester University. For the degree he really did earn in his own world. He tweaked his resume to reflect the state of this world’s research about quantum physics and threw in some made-up experience at CERN. And this week, he signed the contract for his new position at University College, London, as lecturer in experimental particle physics.

  I couldn’t be more proud of him. He’s going to change the world for the better. Make us part of that intergalactic conglomeration of advanced realities. He’s going to be brilliant, like he was born to be.

  But that and Jon’s band aren’t the only things we’re celebrating tonight. As soon as he signed on the dotted line, he took me across town to that little shop space I’ve been fixating on. He arranged an inspection the second he got the news. And just like that, he insisted we sign the lease today.

  I now have a dojo all of my own. Or a place for one. We’re getting started on the refurbishment next week.

  It’s all too much happiness all at once, one thing after another falling into place, like some grand cosmic symphony. Perfect.