Page 100 of All the Forbidden Things

And right on cue, Layla stirs, and after the shit night’s sleep I had last night, I make the executive decision, for safety reasons, to take a nap before continuing the process of building the cot.

Totally disoriented, I blink afew times as searing light attacks my retinas.

“What the—What the fuck are you doing on my sofee—”

My eyes finally focus on a swaying Billie standing over me.

“What’s a sofee?”

“Isa thing . . . what you lay on.” Her arm limply waves about in the general direction of her sofa.

“It’s called a sofa, or a settee, but never a sofee,” I correct her with a smile.

She frowns. “S’whatisaid, sofee.”

I sit up and swing my legs around, placing both my feet on the floor. Billie looks down at me. I stare up at her.

Layla has been sleeping on my chest but has woken at some stage and is now staring at me with her big eyes while sucking on her thumb.

My gaze shifts from Layla to Billie, who’s still frowning and swaying. She licks her lips before raking her teeth over her bottom one.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Maybe.” She shrugs.

“Where’ve you been?”

“Shopping, pub, home. Why are you here?”

I note there are at least a half-dozen bags piled at the top of the stairs, before answering her.

“I had nothing to do so came to build Layla’s cot. I didn’t get much sleep last night, and crashed out—”

Her eyes widen and shine with tears as she steps back, shaking her head.

“Why?” she asks on a sob.

Shocked at her reaction, my mouth falls open, but no words come out.

“I thought . . . I thought . . .”

“Bamm? What the fuck?”

I shift Layla so I can hold her with one arm, stand, and pull Billie into me with the other. “Talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.”

I awkwardly move the three of us back to the sofa. Billie across my lap, and Layla in the crook of my arm and slightly across Billie’s lap.

“Why, Max? I thought . . . the crackle . . . it was there. I felt it. I know you did too.” She’s almost heaving out sobs between her words, and I’ve no clue why or how to stop it.

“Bamm, take a deep breath and tell me what you’re on about.”

She’s scaring me. So many thoughts and conclusions as to what might’ve happened to her are hitting me at once that my head has started to pound.

As if sensing the tension, Layla starts to cry too. Billie draws in a few deep shuddering breaths, rubs at her eyes with the heels of her hands, and looks down at Layla.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m s-sorry.” She hiccups as she talks, and if she weren’t so upset, it’d be as cute as fuck. “Billie’s just a stupid girl. A s-stupid, stupid girl.”

“Will you stop saying that and tell me what the fuck is wrong?”