Layla

She sets her cup down and then pushes herself up onto the countertop. “The most expensive coffee in the world is made in Indonesia. It’s expensive because the beans are eaten and digested by a cat before they’re used to make the coffee.”

I wasn’t expecting a fact like that. I look down at my coffee and grimace. “What do they do? Dig the digested beans out of cat shit?”

She nods.

“People pay more money for coffee made from cat shit?”

Willow grins. “Rich people are weird. That could be you someday. Drinking cat shit coffee on your mega-yacht.”

“I hope to hell not.”

She presses both hands into the counter at her sides. She leans back a little, swinging her legs back and forth. “What’s your mother like?”

That question throws me for a loop. “My mom?”

She nods. “I hear you on the phone with her sometimes.”

There are so many times throughout the day I wonder where Willow is when she’s not in Layla’s body. Does she follow me around? Does she just hang out in the Grand Room all day? Does she ever follow Layla around?

“She’s a good person. I got lucky.”

Willow releases a slow breath and then looks down at her swinging feet. She stops moving them. “I wonder what my mother was like.”

It’s the first time she’s ever acknowledged that she might have had an actual human life prior to the one she’s living. It makes me wonder if she’s having a change of heart. If maybe she does want to try and research into her past.

“I’m thinking about putting in an offer on the house.”

Willow perks up at that. “This house? You really are going to buy it?”

I nod.

“Does Layla want to live here?”

“Probably not. But I could pitch it to her as a business investment. It would give me a reason to visit you.”

“Why doesn’t she like it here? When I’ve looked back on her memories of this place, they all seem good.”

“A lot has happened since we met. I don’t know that it’s this particular place she doesn’t like. She just hasn’t had a chance to settle since she was released from the hospital. I don’t think anywhere will feel like home to her until we can pick out a place together, and I doubt she’ll want a place this isolated.”

“She lived in Chicago before, right? Do you think she wants to go back there?”

I stare at Willow, wondering if she knows that’s what Layla wants, and she’s just saying that as a hint. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

Willow shakes her head. “I don’t want to dig around in her head anymore. Like I said before, her thoughts are chaotic.”

“What do you mean by chaotic?”

“I’m not sure,” Willow says with a shrug of her shoulders. “You say she’s lost a lot of her memories, but to me, when I’m inside her head, there are too many for me to process. It’s like they all overlap, so it’s hard for me to really sift through them. But honestly, they aren’t my thoughts to sift through, so I mostly just ignore them.”

“That’s probably the right thing to do.”

She laughs half-heartedly. “I think we blurred the line between right and wrong a while ago.”

Neither of us speaks for a moment after she says that. It’s tough, because we both know this is wrong, but I think we’re both hoping the other one doesn’t put a stop to it. We obviously enjoy each other’s company or we wouldn’t be doing this night after night.

Willow looks at me thoughtfully. “What happened the night you and Layla were shot?”

I stand up straighter. Shuffle my weight to my other leg. “You can’t just dig around in her head for that? It’s not really something I like talking about.”

Willow is silent for several seconds. “I could . . . but I want to hear your version.”

I don’t like talking about it. I swore to myself after I recounted every detail to the police that I’d never talk about it again unless Layla asked.

Willow is waiting for me to say something. I open my mouth to respond, just as thunder rolls across the sky and a streak of lightning hits nearby. Willow flinches, and the lights go out.

The kitchen lights didn’t even flicker—they just immediately shut off, along with every other appliance in the house.

The sound of thunder is still rumbling through the house when Willow says, “Leeds?”

She sounds frightened.

I find her in the dark, and she’s no longer sitting on the counter. She’s standing in the middle of the kitchen. I rub my hands down her arms reassuringly. “It’s okay. The power just went out. It’ll probably kick back on in a second.”

Willow steps back and says, “What’s going on?” Her words come out quick and shaky. “Where are we?”

More lightning illuminates the kitchen, and I stare at her between flashes of darkness and bright light. Her eyes are full of fear. I can immediately tell I’m no longer looking at Willow. “Layla?”