“Do you not want me to use Layla anymore?” she asks.

I don’t answer that right away because it’s not a simple yes or no. Of course I want her to use Layla because I like spending time with her. But I also want her to stop, because we’ve taken this way too far.

She takes my silence as confirmation that I don’t want her to do it anymore.

I bury my face into her hair, but I still don’t speak. Anything I say at this point feels like it’ll just be a new item added to the list of ways I’ve betrayed Layla. Like the fact that I’ve put in an offer on the house. I haven’t even told Willow. Now I’m not so sure she would even want me to buy it.

“I put in an offer on the house.”

Willow rolls over. Her breast brushes against my arm, and I try to ignore it, but we’re in a more intimate position than we’ve ever been in. It’s hard to ignore when my face is just two inches from hers and she’s looking up at me with hope shining through her tear-filled eyes.

“You did?”

I nod and lift my hand from her waist. I bring it to her forehead and move a piece of hair that’s fallen over her eyes. “Yes. I wouldn’t be here full-time, but I can come back and visit. I want to help you.”

“What about Layla?” she asks.

I shrug, because I don’t know what will happen with Layla. I don’t know that she’ll ever want to come back here. I don’t know where we’ll be when we leave here. Things with Layla feel different now that Willow has entered the picture.

But I also know that visits back to this place will just be another form of torture if we don’t use Layla’s body. Sure, we’ll be able to communicate. But we’ll have to do that without a way to look at each other, and that sounds like torment.

The room is quiet. So quiet I swear I can hear Willow’s heart pounding in her chest. She’s gazing up at me with a mixture of longing and sadness. I’m looking down at her much the same way.

Even buying this house wouldn’t bring me reassurance. I’d still think about her every minute of the day when I’m not here.

I’ll still pretend Layla is Willow every time I kiss her.

My eyes fall to Willow’s lips, and I’m reminded of the crazy way my heart beat when I kissed Layla for the first time, only now it’s an even smaller plink and a much bigger BOOM.

I never thought I’d feel more for someone than I felt that night. But right now . . . I’m feeling everything I can feel in this world, coupled with everything I could feel in Willow’s world.

I run the back of my hand across her jaw, angling her face more toward mine. She keeps her eyes open as I slowly lower my head and rest my mouth against hers. There’s a hesitation on both of our parts as our lips slide against each other with very little movement. It’s as if we’re both scared of what this will mean for our future.

Will crossing a physical line by kissing her make me crave her even more? Will it make me never want to leave? Will it weaken my resolve to the point that I let Willow take over Layla whenever she wants?

In this moment, I honestly don’t care.

In this moment, the only thing I can care about is my selfish, insatiable need to kiss Willow. I wouldn’t even care if this caused an upheaval to the entirety of humanity.

I slide my hands in her hair and slip my tongue into her mouth, and I don’t do it gently. I kiss her with a need I didn’t even know was buried inside me.

She moans into my mouth, and it fills me with even more urgency. I don’t know why I’m kissing her like someone might steal this moment from us.

She responds in kind, threading her fingers through my hair, tilting her body more toward mine. She presses her breasts against my chest, and a sensational pull rolls through me. I want on top of her, inside of her. I want my mouth to cover every inch of her. I want to hear every single sound she’s capable of making, and I want my hands and my tongue to be responsible for those sounds.

The kiss has only gone on for a matter of seconds, but it’s long enough that an ache inside of me builds and builds to the point that the kiss becomes painful.

It becomes sad.

I’ve never had so many emotions run through me during a single kiss before, but I run through every feeling my body and mind are capable of until the one I want the least consumes me the most.

I ache everywhere, but it’s the most prominent in my chest. It hurts so much I’m forced to pull away from her and suck in air because I feel like my heart is being strangled.

I roll onto my back and try to catch my breath, but there isn’t enough air in this world to ease this feeling.

I find Willow’s hand, and I hold it, but it’s all I can do. I can’t kiss her again. I can’t go through that with her again, knowing she’s not someone I get to keep for the rest of my life.

I shouldn’t have done that. Now I don’t want to leave. The only thing that feels important to me now is making sure Willow doesn’t have to spend another day alone in this house.

I’m full of an immense need to find answers for why Willow is stuck in her world, because I desperately need her to get stuck in mine.

I tilt my head to look at her, and when I do, I wish I wouldn’t have. It just makes it worse because she’s looking back at me with a broken heart. She rolls toward me and tucks her head in the crook of my neck, curling herself around me. “Every time I have to leave her body, it feels like a punishment. Every night, over and over. It’s torture.”

I wrap my arms around her, wishing I could fix everything for her. But I can’t.

I’ve just made it all so much worse.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The bed is empty when I wake up. I touch Layla’s pillow and run my hand over it, as if Willow is still lying there. Maybe she is.

I sit up to check the time, but I can’t find my phone. I look on the floor. On the bed. It isn’t in here.

Did Layla take it?

I rush downstairs to find her, my fear two steps ahead of me as I wonder why she took my phone and what she might be seeing on it. A conversation with Willow, the app for the security system. I rush into the kitchen, but Layla isn’t there. I search the Grand Room, the downstairs bedrooms. I open the back door, but she isn’t out by the pool.

I run to the front door and swing it open.

Layla is sitting on the porch steps, staring out over the front yard. There’s a cigarette in her hand.

“What are you doing?”

She doesn’t turn around to look at me, which makes me wonder what she found out. There are so many things. The cameras, the conversations on my laptop, the kiss last night.

I walk tentatively toward the steps and watch as Layla takes in a slow drag of the cigarette. “I wasn’t aware you smoked,” I say.

She blows the smoke out. “I don’t. But I keep some hidden in my purse for when I’m stressed.” She cuts her eyes at me, looking over her shoulder. I’m not sure what it is that caused that betrayal in her expression, but she definitely uncovered something.

I keep my voice steady when I say, “What’s wrong, Layla?”

She looks away from me again. Her voice is flat when she says, “Why didn’t you tell me you were buying this house?”

I lean my head back and blow out a silent breath of relief. I thought maybe she might have found the security footage. I wouldn’t have been able to explain that.