I knock on her door and I wait. I knock again, and I wait. I adjust my tie, I wriggle down my suit, I knock again.

And I wait.

I know I'm a little late but, surely she should be ready by now? 

"Isla?" I call through the door. I can't bring myself to call her anything else yet, I'm not ready for that. I'm not ready for a lot of things that are happening. "Isla!"

I know she's on the other side of the door, I can feel her standing there, I can hear the creak of the floorboard as she shuffles in front of it. 

"I'm sorry," she says. "Go to the party."

"Open the door."

"That isn't a good idea."

"Why are you doing this?"

There is a small thump as her body flops to the floor and I lean my palm onto it, taking deep breaths as I realize she isn't going to share her answer to that. 

"Today is about Jamie," I say. "And you owe him and the twins the chance to meet you, to get to know you. I know that might be the scariest thing in the world right now, but I'll be right there with you."

"They're better off without me."

I curl my hand into a fist and I bang it against the wood. "No. . . no. You don't get to do that. You don't get to come back into my life, make me feel something and then give up. Lily wouldn't do that."

"I'm not. . ." she starts to say, but then she falls silent for a moment. "I'm not coming."

"Is this about last night?" I ask. "Did I do something?"

"No!" her voice sounds squeaky, choked, like she's holding in a cry so hard. "Last night was amazing. You didn't do anything. It's just me. It's complicated. I'm complicated."

"You've always been complicated." I smile to myself, tapping my palm. "That's what made you interesting."

"Damaged."

"Interesting."

"Damaged."

I sigh. "Fine. You're damaged. So what? Are you going to hide in here for the rest of your life telling yourself that? What difference is it going to make?"

"What if they hate me?"

"What if they don't?"

"You hated me."

"I. . . I wouldn't call it hate. A very realistic misunderstanding is the words I would use." She laughs for a moment and my smiles returns. "Do I really have to break this door down? I might not be as strong as I used to be but I will damn well try. You just might have to carry me to the ER. Okay. Here goes."

I stand back from the door and a grin spreads across my face as my light threat works. It takes her a few seconds, but she begins unlocking it, hesitantly swinging it open. 

"See," I start to say. "That wasn't so. . ."

I trail off, my voice lost to me, as I gaze upon the woman in the doorway. She still has the face of Isla, that will never change, but the outfit she wears breaks my mind into pieces. The dress; tight and black with sparkles down the front, showing off her slim figure and shiny legs, along with dazzling, sparkly heels that puts her as the same height as me. And her hair, curled to bounce down her shoulders, makes her bright, blue eyes dimmer--not as bright, not as blue, but sharp. 

Like hers.

If Lily had a twin that wasn't identical, Isla would be it. The resemblance is so uncanny that it startles me, scares me, chokes me. The odds of her coming back were impossible enough, but the odds of Isla actually resembling her past life?

I don't even think those odds exist yet.

"Well?" she whispers. "What now?"

My mouth opens, then closes, as I still observe her. She is a different kind of beautiful, her beauty could never be exaggerated, it could never be a lie. It could never be fake nor clouded, no matter how much make-up she wears; she has the natural, flawless look that most women spend hours in front of a mirror trying to achieve. 

Although her presence has sent my mind spiraling, I still notice the puffy, red marks around her eyes--like she has been crying for a long time. She's done her best to conceal it, but even though no one else will notice, I notice. 

I'm trained to notice.

"Now," I whisper. "We go to the bed." I cough. "Restaurant. The restaurant."

She smiles. "Lead the way."

"Okay."