I woke up to bacon. That was the first clue that last night hadn't been a dream, because I never buy bacon. The second clue was Anaïs herself, still asleep with one arm thrown over my chest, hair fanned across the pillow like she'd been there for years instead of since yesterday.

The third clue was the humming coming from the kitchen.

I slid out from under her arm and pulled on a pair of boxers. Rachel was at the stove in yesterday's clothes, one sock on, the other foot bare, flipping eggs with the calm focus of someone who'd always lived here. She'd set the table. Two plates. Two mugs. Orange juice in a jug she must have found in a cupboard I'd forgotten existed.

"Morning," she said, not turning around.

"Morning."

"Eggs in a minute."

I leaned in the doorway and watched her. Nobody had told her to make breakfast. Or maybe they had and I'd forgotten. That was the thing with the book. You stopped keeping track of what you'd said, because nothing ever came back to bite you.

Anaïs wandered out a few minutes later in my shirt, yawning. She kissed me on the cheek, then looked at Rachel and said, "Smells good," like this was all completely ordinary, which to her it was.

We ate. It was a good breakfast. Rachel stood by the counter and drank her coffee and asked Anaïs about a lecture they had that afternoon. The two of them talked about a professor's grading policy for five minutes. It was the most normal conversation I'd ever heard in that apartment.

Then Anaïs set down her fork and stretched, and looked at me in a way I recognized, and then looked past me at Rachel with the same look, like she was trying to decide something.

"Rachel," she said.

Rachel turned. "Yeah?"

"Come here."

Rachel came and stood at the end of the table. Anaïs didn't explain. She didn't have to. Rachel got down on her knees beside my chair, looked up at me with that same pleasant patience, and undid my boxers like she was opening a letter.

I looked at Anaïs. She was watching with her chin on her hand, mildly interested, the way you'd watch someone do the dishes.

"Go on," she said.

So Rachel did. She wasn't rushed and she wasn't clumsy. Her mouth was warm and her …