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Past the back of the cabin, the property slopes gently to the edge of a lake.

I walk out to the end of a snowcapped pier.

There’s a rim of ice a few feet out from the sh.o.r.e, but it’s too early in the season, even with the recent storm, for the rest of the lake to have frozen.

I brush the snow off a bench, take a seat, and watch the sun creep up behind the pine trees.

The cold is invigorating. Like an espresso shot.

Mist rises from the surface of the water.

I register footsteps squeaking in the snow behind me.

Turning, I see Daniela coming down the pier, following in my footprints.

She’s carrying two steaming mugs of coffee, her hair is a gorgeous wreck, and she has several blankets thrown around her shoulders like a shawl.

As I watch her approach, it occurs to me that in all likelihood, this is the last morning I’ll ever get to spend with her. I’ll be returning to Chicago first thing tomorrow. Alone.

Handing me both mugs, she takes one of her blankets and wraps it around me. Then she sits on the bench and we drink our coffees and stare out across the lake.

I say, “I always thought we’d end up in a place like this.”

“I didn’t know you wanted to move to Wisconsin.”

“When we’re older. Find a cabin to fix up.”

“Can you fix things up?” She laughs. “I’m kidding. I know what you mean.”

“Maybe spend summers here with the grandchildren. You could paint by the lakesh.o.r.e.”

“What would you do?”

“I don’t know. Finally catch up on my New Yorker subscription. Just be with you.”

She reaches down and touches the piece of thread that’s still tied around my ring finger. “What’s this?”

“Jason2 took my wedding ring, and there was a point early on where I was beginning to lose my grasp on what was real. On who I was. If I’d ever been married to you. So I tied this string around my finger as a reminder that you, this version of you, existed.”

She kisses me.

For a long time.

I say, “I have to tell you something.”

“What?”

“In that first Chicago I woke up in—the one where I found you at this art installation about the multiverse—”

“What?” She smiles. “Did you f.u.c.k me?”

“Yeah.”

The smile dies.

She just stares at me for a moment, and there’s almost no emotion in her voice when she asks, “Why?”

“I didn’t know where I was or what was happening to me. Everyone thought I was crazy. I was starting to think so too. Then I found you—the only familiar thing in a world that was completely wrong. I wanted so badly for that Daniela to be you, but she wasn’t. She couldn’t be. Just like the other Jason isn’t me.”

“So you were just f.u.c.king your way across the multiverse then?”

“That was the only time, and I didn’t realize where I was when it happened. I didn’t know if I was losing my mind or what.”

“And how was she? How was I?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t—”

“I told you.”

“Fair enough. It was just the way you described this other Jason coming home that first night. It was like being with you before I knew I loved you. Like experiencing that incredible connection all over again for the first time. What are you thinking right now?”