“I promise I will. And I didn’t really mean it about you having to leave the house right away. There’s no rush.”
“Um,” she says softly. “But it makes sense, right? You and Olivier are married now. You want your own space. Maybe you’ll have kids soon…”
Here’s the thing: I don’t actually have to play that game with her anymore. I’ll be home tomorrow, without Olivier. She’ll find out soon enough that we’re over. But I’m not ready to explain to her that I’m getting divorced. I’m not ready to sound like a failure, like I couldn’t keep up with this, either.
“Hmm, I’m more focused on enjoying the honeymoon right now,” I say, lifting the cover over the plate to grab a french fry. It’s salty and crisp.
“So why do you need my credit card details then? Can’t Olivier help you?”
Nosy little cow. It was easier when Mom was alive. Taylor always felt stuck in the middle. I would ask and she would obey, no questions asked.
“He’s out with friends. I don’t want to disturb him.” And then, realizing how that must sound, I add, “We decided to do this fun thing I read about online. Spending a night apart every now and then is meant to spice things up in a couple. So he’s seeing his Parisian friends and I’m having a decadent night in: expensive wine, room service, and Olivier ran me the bubbliest bath you’ve ever seen.”
She doesn’t respond. Maybe I overdid it. I think the wine is starting to get to my head. I’m feeling woozy, like I can’t quite focus.
“Taylor? I need that credit card number. Seriously, okay?”
“And Olivier is gone. All night?”
I let out an angry sigh. “Yes.”
There’s only silence for a while, and I’m about to ask again when she says, “I’ll text it to you.”
She hangs up before I can tell her to hurry up already.
I bring the tray of food over to the bathroom, along with my refilled glass of wine, and set everything down on the stool by the tub.Come on, Taylor!When she doesn’t text right away, I try to call her again, but she doesn’t pick up. And she doesn’t answer the text I send her, either.
I’m feeling sweaty now, my heart pumping. It’s been a rough day. The bath is starting to cool down, so I turn on the hot water tap as I take my clothes off. Pulling my dress up overhead is a struggle—my arms are cramping. Even my screen looks blurry. Stepping into the tub, I knock the tray of food, and the metal dome falls to the floor with a loud thump. The fries go everywhere and the burger lands by the toilet. Great. My mouth feels pasty; I’m not sure I could eat anyway.
The water soothes me instantly. As I sink in deeper, everything startsto feel good and right. I pour in more of the bath salts and watch as the lavender flakes dissolve over my legs.
Still no text from Taylor. Flicking over to the Instagram app, I hit Record, making sure to capture everything.
Self-care night!I caption the Story.How about this cloud of happiness!?
Taylor better be watching. But of course she is. That’s why she sounded funny on the phone. She can’t stand it. I picture her at home, in the dark and dreary room she hardly leaves when she’s not working.
Alone.
Lonely.
So very lonely.
She hasn’t had a boyfriend since that guy who took her away somewhere up north when she was twenty-six. Over a year later, she heard Mom was sick and came home, and it was like she’d shrunk even further, her head almost always bowed down. As far as I know, there hasn’t been anyone else since. Poor Taylor. No one ever wanted her.
I rest my head on the edge of the tub. All I can think is that I have everything.Everything.Especially everything she’ll never have.
Chapter 18
Olivier
One month before the honeymoon
For the next few days I thought of nothing else but Reese’s slim waist, the mole at the top of her chest, the raw softness of her voice. My mind ping-ponged endlessly. We could never do this. We couldn’tnotdo this. Every time I tried to push that night out of my thoughts, Reese came back with a vengeance. I swore I smelled her perfume everywhere I went.
When I walked into the bar again the following Monday, her face brightened with the warmest, most stunned smile. It disappeared just as quickly, but I saw it. I saw it.
“What are you doing here?” she said, wiping down the counter.
