It felt like the wool had been lifted from his eyes and he could finally see. The woman in Atlantic City on that day fifteen years ago had been Jennifer Carter—there was not a doubt in his mind. It was her and it had always been her. In a way Joe had always known—it was the very same reason he’d been drawn to her so quickly, with just but a single glimpse of her across a crowded classroom. Indeed, he had always known this, but he’d kept the knowledge buried, deep down, in a place where it was easier to stow.

Because it was, after all, impossible.

“Would you like another?” Steve asked him.

Joe looked at his beer, and saw it was empty.

“Yes,” he replied. “But make it a shot. A double, actually.”