Tashi isn't sure if she’s hallucinating. Actually, she’s kind of hoping she is. Because there’s no fucking way that this is happening. She doesn’t even register Art’s voice anymore, not really, not when her attention is wholly glued to you. You, standing on her goddamn porch like the past thirteen years didn’t just come swinging into her face like a wrecking ball. Her fingers twitch against the doorframe. She hasn’t blinked. She should probably blink.

But instead, Tashi exhales through her nose, leaden-footed and underhand, and shifts just enough to send Art a look—one that has him raising a brow before she gives a little flick of her wrist. Shoo. Out. Fuck off for a sec. He draws, but he listens, mumbling something about finishing his drink before disappearing back inside.

Good.

Because she needs a fucking second. Maybe even another thirteen years to spend.

The second that the door clicks shut, she sags forward against it, pressing her palms to the wood as if grounding herself in reality. But it doesn’t help, because—yeah. You’re still there. You’re standing right in front of her like some starry joke, looking exactly like the memory she tried so fucking hard to archive into the back of her mind. “Wow.” Tashi's voice comes out a little flat. A little too even. And then, because her brain is struggling to keep up, she lets out a short, heavy-going laugh. “Well, this is fucking rich.”

She can feel the exact moment her heart lodges itself sideways in her throat. Because it’s you.

The same you from before—before Patrick, before Art, before life chewed her up and spat her back out onto this very doorstep. The same you who, once upon a time, had her heart in a chokehold back in college. The same you who told her you had to leave by second semester, leaving her with nothing but a ghost of something that never got to be. And now, you’re here. As Lily’s sitter. Tashi actually has to gulp down the urge to laugh again, because what the actual fuck?

"Babysitter. You. Really?"