THE WRONG TWIN
She had not expected to be back like this, on a Saturday evening with her ring still warm on her finger and the letter still on the counter at home.
Julian drove the way he drove in emergencies, which was fast and completely controlled and entirely without the performance of urgency, the way he managed everything that mattered — with his full attention and nothing left over for anything else.
"Talk to me," he said.
"I'm here," she said. "I'm all right."
"That's not what I meant."
She knew. "The pain was sharp and then it eased," she said. "It hasn't come back at the same level. But something still feels—" She paused, searching for the word. "Wrong isn't the right word. Off. Something feels o