His face breaks into a smile, all the tension diffused. I need to get us away from this room, from the safe and the missing passport. The airline will call back and I’ll change my flight. I’ll be gone long before Olivier knows it. One more drink won’t kill me. All that really matters is that I’m not here when he realizes I’ve ruined his life.
Chapter 15
Olivier
Two months before the honeymoon
On the drive home from our appointment with the immigration attorney, I tried to give myself a silent pep talk. Maybe I’d look for a job around here. Or I’d convince Cassie to go ahead with what she’d vaguely mentioned in the city: we’d renovate the inn and reopen it, with prices to match its new standing. It could be a viable business maybe? It would be a lot of work: the house was dark, smelled of mold, and desperately needed a fresh coat of everything. I wasn’t built for handiwork. My father would laugh if he knew I was even considering taking up this kind of project. There was always Cassie’s money, which could pay for a contractor, but I couldn’t imagine wasting it on this hellhole. And Cassie kept changing her tune about when the money would come or what she wanted to do with it. The sad truth: whatever she did decide, I would have to go along with it. She had me by the collar, could drag me along as she wished.
By the time we arrived back at the house, I felt completely lost, worse than ever. I couldn’t even bring myself to go inside.
I grabbed the rusty bike I’d found in the shed adjoining the house. Daylight waned as I cycled down the main road out of town. Trucks honked, then took over, nearly running me off the road more than once.It didn’t matter. After the meeting today, I was dead. This thing with Cassie would never work. We’d conveniently bumped into her ex a few more times since the birthday party, and Cassie would wrap an arm around me and get all gooey. But when no one else was watching, her interest in me seemed to fade a bit more every day.
I wasn’t sure what to do—redeclare my undying love for her? Remind her she’d agreed to this and she better hold her side of the bargain, or else? Or else, what? Then there was the way she’d perked up when the lawyer mentioned giving up. We wouldn’t be able to fool an immigration officer. Couldn’t keep up this act for a full two years. I’d get deported. I’d thought having to go back to France was bad, but now I was going to be forced back there as a criminal. And still with no money. I was so very fucked.
Reaching the next town, I went down a few roads in near darkness, until I got to Main Street. There was a bar, a dive-y sort of place with a shattered window. I could use a drink. Inside, the place smelled of lukewarm beer and fried everything. A few men were gathered around a billiard table in the back room, while a lone woman played darts nearby. I claimed a seat at the counter—they were all empty—and waited. A bearded guy was stacking plastic crates in the corner and proceeded to royally ignore me.
“Excuse me?” I said after a few minutes had passed. “Can I get a drink? Vodka tonic?”
The guy grunted. Then, without looking at me, he yelled, “Reese! You there? Someone at the bar.”
I was silently grumbling to myself about the amazing service when the flap doors swung open from the other side. Out she came: with wavy hair that brushed against her shoulders, eyes rimmed dark and lips so red they brightened her whole face. She wore a black top so fitted it seemed like two sizes two small, and I became mesmerized by how her hips swayed as she walked toward me. She took me in, casual disdain all over her face, and I shook my head, trying to be sure I wasn’t hallucinating. Who was this woman?
“Reese?” It had been a long, messy, and gut-wrenching day. I couldn’thandle anything more.
“That’s my name.” Her tone was all snark, but with a touch of kindness to it, like she wanted to have a little fun with me, in good spirit. “Gin okay? We’re out of vodka.”
I nodded, speechless.
A minute later, she handed me the glass without a word and stared at my hands as I gulped it down, trying not to wince. Before the City Hall wedding, I’d bought three rings from a pawn shop in the Financial District, one with a small fake diamond and two wedding bands. They were the cheapest ones I could find on such short notice, and mine left a black mark around my finger. We hadn’t worn them since getting upstate, but I’d reminded Cassie to put her rings back on for the appointment with the lawyer. She’d taken hers off as soon as we’d stepped out of the building. I’d waited until I’d parked the car in front of her house, for all the difference it made.
Now I looked at my finger too, rubbing where the ring was, removing any last trace of it. And then I was back to staring at her—couldn’t help it.
“You have an admirer,” the bearded guy said to Reese.
She answered with a chuckle as she wiped the counter with a shredded rag that looked like it’d seen the war.
“You got this wrong, Jack,” she said. “This guy is the infamous Cassie Quinn’s new French boyfriend. Moved in with her and everything. He even has the accent to prove it.”
“Fancy that,” Jack said.
They laughed and I felt like the butt of some private joke.
Reese turned to me and looked deep into my eyes. “Cassie is full of surprises.”
My stomach dropped, and there wasn’t one ounce of saliva left in my mouth. I should go home. All hope was not lost yet. I could try harder at wooing Cassie. I’d seen the look in her eyes when I’d told her I loved her. I’d faked so many things in my life. Surely affection could be fabricated,especially with someone like Cassie, who needed it so much. Otherwise, she wasn’t going to keep me around, was she? But deep down I already knew that whatever I did, it wouldn’t be enough to salvage the situation.
I glanced up again at Reese, who had moved to the far end of the bar. It made me feel uneasy. Wanting more. Ineededto look at her.
“So, um, you work here?” I said. What a dumb fucking question.
She pressed her lips together. “Some of us gotta work, you know.”
I looked down at my well-fitting polo shirt, my clean nails, my white sneakers—the off-duty style I’d adopted since spending all day in a uniform at Bhotel—and I wanted to tell her,I know.I don’t want to be like this.I’d gone along with Cassie’s story that I was this rich guy who was spoiling her. Now, for the first time, I wondered what people around here had said when I’d turned up with Cassie. I’d hoped to make a good impression with her circle, and it occurred to me now that I had no idea how I’d fared. I needed to prove to Reese that I was a good person. Sure, I’d done lots of shitty things, but I’d meant well, always.
“Have a drink with me,” I said. “Please.”
She looked around the room, but there was no one else in sight. She debated for a moment, then grabbed the gin bottle on her way back to me, along with another glass. She poured both of us some, splashed in some tonic, and clinked her glass to mine.
