I leaned forward and kissed her. I had to. Couldn’t take the risk that she would contradict me. There was an awkward silence. I mean, another one. For a moment I thought Cassie would tear it all down again. She’d ruin everything. But, eventually, she shrugged and turned to her sister.
“You’ll help with the food, right? And preparing the house? I need to focus on getting my dress.”
Her sister’s jaw was clenched. “I— Sure.”
Cassie clapped her hands. “It’s going to be amazing! Gosh, there isn’t much time to organize everything. Is it tacky to send wedding invitations via text?”
Neither of us responded, so she answered her own question. “I’m sure it’s fine. It’ll feel intimate. Spontaneous.” Then she turned to me. “You’re booking the hotel, right, babe? Paris is always a good idea.”
Not that this was the most important thing right now, butbabe?
I couldn’t get another word out. She’d gotten engaged all by herself. Had booked tickets to Paris leaving this weekend without consulting me. What else was she planning? Did I really think I could get rid of her?
“Babe?”
Cassie looked back to me, her bony ass digging into my thighs. There was a threat in her tone, I could hear it loud and clear. “Yes, I’m taking care of everything.”
By the time I’d finished my sentence, Cassie was staring as her sister got up and quietly left the room.
Then Cassie jumped off me. “Better send those invites!”
So that left me sitting there alone, wondering what game Cassie was playing, and how much I was going to lose. Again.
Or maybe, just maybe…this trip was a stroke of luck. The perfect opportunity, if only I could seize it. It wasn’t much time. But maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t going to lose anything at all.
Chapter 22
Taylor
Now
The walk from my hotel to theirs takes less than fifteen minutes. It was one of the reasons I chose it: on the Right Bank, far away enough that there was no chance of running into the happy couple, but still within reach for when I needed to see them. To watch them. To be sure.
After dropping them off at the airport, I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t walk away while Cassie went onmytrip to Paris. Couldn’t accept that she was happy and in love, despite all the evidence to the contrary. Of course I could have watched everything unfold on my screen, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to be in Paris. I wanted the honeymoon, too. And to be honest, I wanted to hurt Cassie long before I got on that plane.
All my life she taunted me, did everything in her power to make me feel sorry for being alive. For surviving and coming to ruin her life. After our—well,her—mother died, we managed to tolerate each other, just barely.
I was stuck. Broke. Rae’s death had cleaned me out. When Cassie’s father died, I felt sorry for her. Truly, deeply. I understood her pain, more than she could ever know. I had no concrete idea of why my father hadn’t been in my life, but I felt abandoned all the same, clinging to the idea that one day we would meet again. One day all would be explained. I didn’t haveany hope that her father’s death would bring Cassie and me closer—I’d given up on that a long time ago—but I had to be there for her. Couldn’t turn my back on her at such a hard time. But, as always, Cassie slammed the door in my face and threw away the key.
I walk briskly southward, keeping my head down and my breath in check. The shortest way to go is through the Louvre, and the irony of it all might break me. I haven’t been there yet—one of the most famous places in the city—because Cassie hasn’t. And I only do what Cassie wants.
Not anymore. Stepping through the gate on rue de Rivoli, I have to fight the urge to stop and stare in awe. The glass pyramid greets me on the other side, standing majestically in the middle of the square. It’s almost 9:00 p.m. and still light out, with many people taking selfies in front of the structure, even though the museum itself is closed.
I move along, quickening my pace even more. Cassie is waiting for me; she just doesn’t know it yet. Leaving the Louvre behind, I go through the Tuileries Gardens and only glance at the Eiffel Tower in the distance as I cross over Pont Royal to the Left Bank. What a dream walk for a warm summer evening. I read that there are security cameras everywhere in the city, but I have my cap and feminine clothes on, so unlike Good Taylor.
Slipping into their hotel is easy, the lobby swarming with guests and staff. From the pictures online and Cassie’s videos, I know exactly where the elevators are. I need to walk through with confidence. Tonight, there’s no stopping me.
A few people are waiting at the end of the corridor, and I slow down to make sure they enter the next elevator before I get there. No one can see me. No one can remember me.
On the sixth floor, my heart drums inside my chest as I walk down the corridor, looking for the right room. Every muffled step on the thick carpet takes me farther away from the exit, all the way to the end, adrenaline coursing through my veins faster and faster.
Cassie was right about one thing. Two of us were too many. It didn’tmatter how big that house was or how many times Rae told us we should be glad to have each other. Three made a family; that’s what she liked to say. But not in our case.
Music filters through the door as I retrieve the key card from my back pocket, a pop song that’s been playing nonstop in the shops over here. The singer croons about how we can have everything: the gorgeous boys and the great jobs and all of the power. Some of us would kill for that.
The music is so loud it drowns out the buzzing sound from the door. When the light on the keypad turns green, my heart drops. Even after all I’ve done, I can’t help but feel like this is the moment I’m crossing a line. There’s no way back from here.
I step inside.
