THE WRONG TWIN
And yet here he was, standing on a bridge in the dark, thinking about the way a woman's cheek had felt beneath his thumb.
He was almost off the bridge when his phone buzzed. A text from Theo, characteristically brief.
How's our situation.
Julian looked at it for a moment, then typed back: Manageable.
Three dots appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again. Then: That's not what your face looked like when I called you earlier.
Then, after a pause: She's not Charlotte, Jules. I don't just mean literally. I mean she's genuinely not like her at all. You know that, right? That this isn't just Charlotte with different mannerisms.