Cassie sighs. I don’t usually push her that much. Growing up in our house,her house, I quickly learned to be the quiet one. The easy one. Rae was my mother’s only living relative—a cousin a few times removed. Child Protective Services managed to track her down and told her that I’d been through three foster families in over a year and that a more stable situation with a relative would be preferable. Rae had agreed and taken me in out of the kindness of her heart. At least that’s what I thought. Cassie was just six years old, but she despised me from the moment I stepped through that door.
Later, she’d blame me for the fact that her father never came back for her. It makes little sense now, but back then I believed it. I believed everything. My presence had threatened the balance of this already fragile family, and I could be kicked out just as quickly as I was brought in. So I did as I was told. I studied and got good grades. I helped around the house after school. From age ten, I made the rooms for the few guests we had, and by twelve I was preparing breakfast for everyone. I needed to pay my dues. Cassieonly hated me more; my good-girl behavior made her look even worse.
“Yes, Taylor, the two of us. I’m on my honeymoon, remember? The whole point is to have a good time with my husband. This is what people in relationships do. Though of course you wouldn’t know.”
“You’re right; I’m sorry.”
The words come out of habit. Still, I crumble on the inside. How do I let her do this to me over and over? She lays down traps and I get caught. I bought it all: every perfectly framed Instagram picture, every video in which she quipped about how much love was in the air. Fucking bitch.
“I gotta go,” Cassie says.
I’m overcome with so much rage that I want to hang up on the spot. Then I remember there’s something else I need to ask her. It might sound suspicious, but I don’t care anymore. “Wait. A man came by the house. He had the keys. Do you know what that’s about?”
She lets out a deep sigh. “He told me you weren’t there.”
“Why does a random man have the key to our house, Cassie?”
She’s silent for such a long while that I almost give up. Cassie won’t be honest with me anyway; she never is. “He’s a Realtor. And he doesn’t have the keys. I told him where we hide the spare set, since he said there was nobody home.”
“Why do you need a Realtor? I thought you and Olivier were renovating the house?”
“We were. We are. I don’t know. I’m thinking I might sell it instead.”
“You can’t do that!” My voice comes out like a squeal.
It’s not that I like it that much, not like I haven’t thought a hundred times that I needed to leave. To get away. For good. But something always stopped me. A bad breakup. Rae’s terminal cancer diagnosis. Trying so desperately to save money while Cassie always demanded I invest in one of her new ventures, like that candle-making business. I knew it would fail, but as always, I chose the easier way out. Saying no to her was so much worse. If I did, she was never out of ways to makemy life harder.
“Of course I can.”
“No, Cassie. Even you can’t have everything you want.” I’ve never spoken so harshly to her, but I’m right. “Your mother adopted me. She left what she had tobothof her daughters.”
It’s something we never speak about because I know how much it upsets Cassie. Her mother loved me, too. Maybe not in the best way, but she did. And Iwasa good daughter to her. I drove her to chemotherapy appointments, picked up her meds, made her smoothies—the only thing she could keep down. Meanwhile, Cassie would just flail about, say this was too much to handle, and then head out to Darren’s, not to be seen for days.
“Oh sure,” Cassie says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “My mother loved you. Her little extra daughter. The good one. So yes, she split everything evenly in her will. She didn’t give a crap about how that made me feel.”
“That’s not true.” I can’t help but comfort Cassie, to prop her up. Because as hard as I tried to ignore it growing up, Rae and Cassie’s relationship was fraught with conflict. Rae had wanted children, but not at the cost of having them alone. She’d never recovered from her husband leaving, from how the family she’d dreamed of had imploded.Call your father, Rae would say.Ask him if he wants to come for Christmas, your birthday, your graduation. Find out about “her.”But Cassie never did. In fact, she swore up and down shedidn’twant him there. She didn’t remember him and she certainly wasn’t going to beg for his attention, especially if that’s what her mother wanted. Rae would read the cards Cassie occasionally got from him, searching for mentions of her. You could see the pain on her face when she found none. I think Cassie never responded to them because she knew her mother was desperate for that connection.
“Yeah, well, whatever, Taylor. It doesn’t matter because the house didn’t belong to Mom. It was my dad’s andhedefinitely didn’t put you in his will.”
I feel like all the air has been punched out of me. The house is dark anddamp and in so much need of repair, but it’s also the only home I remember, the only place where I’ve felt safe. The one thing I thought was at least partly mine.
“Cassie…” I start, breathless.
She can’t do this to me, not after everything I’ve done for her. Who pays the bills and buys the food and cleans the place? She’s never kept a job more than a few months and hasn’t bothered trying to get one since her mom died a year ago. Grief is convenient like that. That day she came back from the city with Olivier was one of the first times I ever stood my ground. She texted me from the train, demanding I pick her up. It took everything I had to say no.
“No, I’m speaking,” she cuts in. “Here’s the deal, Taylor. You’ve been mooching off my family for long enough. The house belongs to me. ME! Which means that, right now, you’re living onmyproperty. That bed you sleep on? Mine. Those rooms you always complain about cleaning? Mine. The driveway in which you park your shitty car? It’s all mine. And I think it’s about time you get the hell out of there.”
Chapter 14
Cassie
Now
I’m still fuming when I get back to our hotel room, alone. This isn’t the first time Olivier and I have had an argument, but itwillbe the last. Because I’m done. I call the shots here; that’s what the lawyer said. If I want to text with my ex, he can’t stop me. If I want to sell my own goddamn house, I can just do that. I know Olivier has decided to focus on renovating the inn because he’s struggling to get a job, but he’ll have to find something else to do. Haven’t I already helped him enough?
And what was Taylor’s deal? She sounded weird on the phone, and there was so much noise around her, cars honking and people. I lose track of all the little jobs she does to survive, but one thing was certain: she wasn’t home or anywhere near it.
Sitting on the bed, I scan the room as if it’s going to tell me what to do. I know I can’t get rid of Olivier with a click of my fingers, but I need some time away from him. I need to go home and figure things out with Darren without my “husband” hovering over me.
