Chapter 4

As soon as he let go, I stepped back. A crash came from the bar: Violet had knocked over the ice bucket. It rolled across the floor while she hurried out, her eyes red.

Luca waved a server over to clean up. “She’s had a bit too much.”

Matteo went quiet, watching her disappear upstairs. Standing beside him, I realized he could even borrow my place as his wife for some petty game with his mistress. A few minutes earlier he’d been concerned about my heart. Now he was using me to make Violet jealous.

Luca approached. “Boss, there’s an account upstairs I need you to look at.”

Matteo brought me a plate of roasted olives and told the bartender to replace the liquor in front of me. “I’ll be right back. Don’t drink that. Gray said you shouldn’t.”

I looked at the plate and nodded. When they went upstairs, Matteo was ahead of Luca.

I didn’t wait. Outside the club, I texted him that a colleague from the studio happened to be nearby and would drive me home.

[Let me know when you’re home.]

[I’m there already.]

He didn’t ask anything else. I spent the night in the reading chair downstairs, without turning on a light or going to bed.

Near dawn, Matteo came through the door. He stopped when he saw me, drew his open collar together, and shifted the jacket over his arm. Unfamiliar silver glitter caught the light on its lining.

“Why are you sleeping down here?” He touched my hand. “You’re cold again. I brought you something to eat.”

The paper bag held a ham omelet from a private club. He said the Providence meeting had been moved up, so he couldn’t make breakfast himself. He’d already left instructions for the cook.

“I’ll try to call this afternoon.” He remembered to kiss me before he left, still playing the good husband running late for work.

Once the gate closed, I put the untouched bag in the food waste bin. From an upstairs window, I could see Violet waiting at the corner. She’d changed into a pale dress and held the program for her final performance.

Matteo opened her car door and leaned down to hear what she said. She kissed him, and he didn’t pull away. Moments later, my phone lit up.

[There’s pepper in the omelet. Don’t force yourself if you don’t like it. I’ll make you something else when I get back.]

Holding the windowsill, I sank slowly to the floor. The phone was still in my hand, but I could no longer make out the words.

The unfamiliar number sent another message: a video barely fifteen seconds long.

Violet sat in a room at Luca’s club, the pocket watch in her palm. She opened its silver cover with her thumb. The engraved date was perfectly clear.

“Your wife gave you this? Are you sure I should keep it?”

Matteo laughed from somewhere beyond the frame. “Play with it if you like. Give it back before we leave. Don’t lose it.”

An audio clip followed. His voice sounded relaxed. “Don’t pull that stunt again. Luca knows the rules. He wouldn’t touch you. Trying to make me jealous with him is a waste of time.”

“You still got pissed.”

“I don’t like other men touching what’s mine.”

Violet paused, then softened her voice. “What about the baby? I’m not asking to be Mrs. Moretti. I just want someone who’s really mine.”

He took much longer to answer that. “If you want to keep it, I’ll make the arrangements. But Elena doesn’t find out. She’s my wife, and that isn’t changing.”

I turned off the sound. Violet quickly sent a photograph of the watch on her program, Matteo’s jacket draped over the chair beside it.

[He said yes. First the baby. What do you think comes next?]

[He won’t tell you. You can’t even get through a party with him. With me, he doesn’t have to spend every second looking after somebody.]

I stopped opening her messages. Late that afternoon, I put my phone facedown. “System, how much longer?”

[Ninety-six minutes. Removing your image from this world’s visual records.]

Beside the reading chair, our photograph from the coast began to change. The outline of my body against Matteo’s shoulder faded until only he remained, his head tilted toward an empty space.

“And my body?”

[It will cease functioning upon departure. Your consciousness will transfer to the designated world. This process cannot be reversed.]

I nodded. I’d heard those terms when I made the request. Only now did I understand what accepting them meant: I wouldn’t even leave myself a body that could come home.

I called Matteo. His end of the line was quiet, and he answered almost immediately, as though he’d been waiting for me. “Lena?”

“What are you doing right now?”

“Thinking about you.” He gave a low laugh. “I’ll be home as soon as I’m done.”

I held the phone without calling him out. This was the last conversation we’d have as husband and wife, and I didn’t want to end it fighting. “All right.”

I wanted him to see me leave. Leaving my phone on the breakfast table, I changed into soft-soled ankle boots and called a car to Providence.

St. Cecilia Conservatory’s graduation reception was being held in the courtyard. Guests passed beneath an archway, and security didn’t stop me.

From outside the covered walkway, I watched Matteo accompany Violet down the stone steps. He’d traded his suit for a blue cashmere sweater that made him look younger, like the boy who used to wait outside the auto shop for me.

Violet tucked her hand through his arm and asked a friend to take their picture. He lowered his head and sheltered her hair from the wind.

[Ten seconds.]

I didn’t move toward him. My heartbeat grew weaker, but my sight remained clear. I braced myself against a stone column.

[Four, three, two...]

Matteo suddenly looked up. Through the moving crowd, our eyes met. He pulled free of Violet and shoved through the crowd, shouting my name.

[One. Transfer complete.]

The column slipped from beneath my palm. The last thing I heard was someone calling for people to move aside. Then that world went silent.