The Only Way Out Is Through

Roy sat at the little dining table, fork in hand, pretending he didn't notice Claire's foot brushing his ankle for the third time. It wasn't subtle, the way she touched him, hand on his arm when he reached for salt, knee nudging his under the table, fingers grazing his wrist when she set down dessert. It should have felt flattering, maybe exciting. But instead a strange nervous heat crawled up his neck each time.

Because she was twenty-eight.

Because she was engaged.

Because she looked so much like Elaine that his brain kept trying to call her by the wrong name.

And, most of all, because she was Elaine's daughter.

He swallowed another bite of noodles and tried to focus on anything else; his food, the table, the ticking clock on the wall, all of it held only brief respite from Claire's pull. As much as he wanted to, ignoring her was impossible. Her conversation was delightful, pulling him in each time he strayed. She was funny, bright-eyed, and luminous. And she was completely sure of what it was that she wanted.

And what she wanted was, unbelievably, impossibly, him.

A woman like Claire deserved someone confident. Someone who could bask in her attention instead of flinching from it like an amateur. Roy felt hopelessly out of his league.

She fed him dessert, cheesecake, one fork, her insisting he finish the last bite like he was a child who'd earned a treat, and he let her. The whole night had been like that: her steering the boat, him holding on.

Just like it felt being with her mother.

He excused himself after dessert, mumbling something about changing out of his work clothes. He needed a break. Needed a breath. Needed to get his head out of the clouds and maybe into a paper bag.

In the bedroom, he closed the door and leaned against it, heart thudding like he'd run the stairs instead of climbed them slowly one creaking step at a time. He toed off his shoes, peeled off the shirt he'd worn since dawn, and scrubbed a hand over his face.

Claire was gorgeous. Of course she was. She was like a younger Elaine. Same smile, same clever eyes, same warmth that melted people before they could decide if they wanted to stay guarded. And in another life, before wishes and complications and mothers, he probably would have fallen stupidly in love with someone like Claire. He could imagine it clearly: seeing her across a shop floor, thinking she was way out of his league, joking with coworkers while quietly nursing a crush that burned holes in his ribs.

That was the kind of story he was built for: quiet longing, not the starring role.

He changed into jeans and a t-shirt, casual clothes that didn't remind him of how stressful his work had become. Comfortable. Ordinary. Roy wasn't out to impress anyone. Of course, the wish didn't seem to care. That felt both relieving and deeply unfair. No matter how he dressed, how he looked, he suspected Claire would see him through eyes filled with love. The wish made her his, whether he wanted her or not.

As he pulled the shirt over his head, he caught himself counting backward.

Charlotte.

Tabitha.

Elaine.

And now Claire.

Quite a scorecard.

The word hit him like a slap. He didn't want to be that guy, collecting women, checking boxes, chalking marks on some invisible list. Tom was that kind of guy. A good looking man who only saw women as an extension of himself, not as individuals with their own dreams, their own desires, their own destinies. Was playing along with the wish making him just as bad as Tom?

Did it, in any way, matter at all?

Shaking off the existential questions, Roy focussed on the moment. There was a pattern to how his power behaved. He was sure of it. With Charlotte, it had been instant. The moment he saw her walk into the bar, the hair on his arms rose, his pulse jumped, and he felt the sense that the universe had locked a seatbelt across his chest and clicked it shut.

Then Tabitha, chaotic, beautiful, and obviously gay. Roy had no business at all taking a romantic role in her life. But she walked into Charlotte's apartment and... POOF! Instant girlfriend! It was exactly the same as it was with Charlotte. A glance at her, arm hair at attention, and magic.

Then one bathroom blowjob and suddenly Tabitha was gone, out of his life. Not even a goodbye. The wish transferred like an insurance policy renewal, unceremonious, left on the side of the road to be found by the next woman.

And then the real magic happened. Elaine. Sweet Elaine. Everything with her was incredible. Somehow her beauty, her charm, and her kindness had found its way past the wall of guilt that he had built around himself. When the wish shifted to her, he had taken on a feeling of both hope and dread. Hope that the wish would stop its transfer, but dread that he finally had something to lose.

In the van on the way to scatter Mark's ashes, another woman had been present. Claire. The woman waiting in his kitchen. The woman who now also considered herself his girlfriend. Why hadn't the relationship transferred earlier? They'd seen each other plenty of times, but somehow the wish had waited.

Waited, he realized, until he and Elaine had... well... closed the deal. Not sex, necessarily. Otherwise Tabitha would still be with him. No, his theory wasn't that sex freed a woman from a relationship with him, but orgasm. Specifically his orgasm. If he released, so were they.

Still, it was just a theory. There was a chance that it was something else. Time could be a factor. Each of the women had been with him for a number of hours before the change. Maybe that was contributing. Or perhaps it was something he hadn't even considered.

And of course there was the question of Elaine. The wish hadn't replaced Elaine.

It had... expanded.

Was that unique to his current situation? Did it have to do with him being with Elaine's daughter? Or was it what he hoped, that because he had feelings for Elaine, true, honest feelings, that he would be granted a place in her life.

Or could he still lose Elaine if he didn't handle this right?

There was only one way to find out what was happening. His power, his new life, hadn't come with an instruction book, and so he would have to experiment. Being with Elaine was a dream come true, but being with Claire at the same time was far too much for him to handle. But if his suspicions were right, the only way to rid himself of an entanglement with the younger woman was to take it as far as she seemed to be willing to go. Roy was going to have to be intimate with her.

He zipped his jeans, took a breath, and stepped quietly back into the hallway.

Claire stood at the counter, phone held in one delicate hand, eyes locked on what she was reading. Her dress hugged her in a way that made swallowing complicated: brown fabric scattered with playful pink dots, hugging curves she didn't seem remotely uncertain about.

Who was she texting?

Her mom?

Her wedding planner?

Her fiancé?

He leaned on the doorframe without announcing himself and just stared for a beat. Any man would be lucky to have her. Any man except him.

His whole life, he'd been realistic about women. He was short. Thick around the middle. Hairline receding. Good with spreadsheets, bad with flirting. Girls like Claire didn't just like men like Roy. That was a fantasy for other universes.

And yet here she was.

In his kitchen.

Wanting him.

He wished he could give her what she deserved. Someone uncomplicated, no baggage, no magic messing with the wiring. Someone free to love her out loud instead of in borrowed hours and guilty moments.

She was happy with Adam. She should stay happy.

Roy wanted the clean version of this story, that tonight would give Claire closure, satisfy the cosmic rulebook, and let her sail right back to her fiancé untouched by this weirdness. But he was already resolved over his next course of action. Staring at the unsuspecting woman, he was already allowing himself to feel things that he knew were wrong, imagine things that he should be ashamed of.

Tonight he was going to take his girlfriend's daughter to bed. He was going to kiss her, he was going to touch her, he was going to have sex with her. All to be free of her.

He drew a slow breath.

He straightened.

Claire looked up, thumbs stilling mid-text.

Her cheeks flamed pink.

She caught him looking at her like she was both a miracle and a mistake. Roy managed a smile; soft, resigned, maybe even a little brave.

Okay, he thought. Let's do this.