Next thing I know, I’m lying on the carpet, alone, as a door slams shut. My heart stammers in my chest as I feel around my body. Nothing seems to be broken but my head feels like someone took a hatchet to it. I think maybe I hit it on…something. The bed frame? I’m so thirsty it feels like my tongue will remain stuck to my palate if I don’t keep it moving.
My memory is fuzzy, but slowly it comes back to me. I was in Cassie’s room, watching her in the bath. Trying to work up the courage to take a step forward, to do to her what…what I’ve often wanted to do, if I’m being honest. We didn’t have to be friends. We didn’t have to act like sisters. But she didn’t have to be like this, either.
The light is bright and dizzying, and I struggle to focus on the brass number on the wall. Six. I’m right outside Cassie’s room, where the music has been turned off. Patting down my pocket, I find the key card. Not that I intend to use it again.
My heartbeat doesn’t slow down until the elevator door closes in front of me. I check my phone: 9:39 p.m. It’s been less than half an hour since I stepped foot in this hotel, since my plan went completely astray. At least my question has been answered. Olivier stopped me. I can still feel his handon my mouth, his arm wrapped around my waist. Whatever I was about to do, he wouldn’t let me. He loves her. He loves and will protect her always. Why am I so surprised?
Outside, the sweet summer breeze is at complete odds with how I’m feeling on the inside. I wanted her dead. But would I have gone through with it? I twist my brain over this all the way back to my hotel, but the truth is I’ll never know the answer.
I’m still battling with these thoughts when I enter my own hotel lobby, my gaze fixed ahead on the much smaller and less swanky elevator. There must be some wine left in my room. Maybe I’ll turn on the music and have a bath, too. A few more steps and I’ll be alone. Again. Alone for good this time.
“Hey there!”
It takes me a moment to realize that the greeting is directed at me. It’s coming from the front desk.
“Bonsoir!” Amir says, giving me a little wave.
His smile is so friendly that my instinct to make a beeline for the elevator is already vanishing. It would be rude to pretend I didn’t hear him. I know that’s Good Taylor talking, but still. I’ve been her more often than I’ve been myself.
“You looked like you were in a different world,” he says.
Taking a deep breath, I make my way to him. “I guess I was.”
“How are you enjoying Paris?” He leans over the counter and rests his forearms on it, like we’re two friends about to share a secret.
“It’s not really going how I’d hoped.” My smile is weak but hopefully genuine. It’s the truth, after all.
And now I know: despite everything, Cassie and Olivier belong together. Yes, they’re liars and cheaters. Of course I know that. You’d think the big, fat engagement ring, the wedding, and skipping away on their Paris honeymoon would have been enough proof that Cassie and Olivier were going to stick to each other no matter what. But I neededto be sure. So what if they have issues? What if she and Olivier don’t have the perfect marriage or the dream honeymoon? They have each other. When it came down to it, he was there to save her. Maybe he’s just after her money, when I thought it was the other way around. But it doesn’t matter anymore. I know what I need to know: they deserve each other.
“We don’t like to hear that your trip is not going so well,” Amir says. “We want people to come to Paris to have a good time. You shouldn’t go home and tell your friends you didn’t enjoy it. That’s bad advertising.”
I attempt a smile. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. “Paris is not the problem.” And there’s no home for me to go to anymore. Cassie is selling the house. And Olivier will out me, won’t he? He doesn’t give a shit about what will happen to me. She’ll make me pay for that, one way or another. A laugh escapes me now. It’s dry and chalky. “I won’t tell anyone I was here. Trust me.”
His eyes drill into mine. “I have an idea.”
I should run away before he shares it. There’s something about this guy, with his overt friendliness and his dimpled cheeks, that screams trouble. Though maybe the trouble is me. It’s followed me for so long, stuck to me like a bad smell. I can’t get rid of it.
Amir looks around, double-checking that no one’s here. “I get off work in twenty minutes. Come out with me. We’ll go dancing, have a few drinks, and then who knows where the night will take us.”
My head won’t stop hurting. Rubbing against the back of it, I can feel a bump coming on. It makes me wince in pain, so of course I touch it again. The way this night started, there’s no way it can end well.
But then Amir says something else. “You’re only here for one more night, yes?”
He’s right. When I got on that plane, I didn’t have any real plans. Cassie and Olivier would be in Paris for a week, and I booked my own room for five nights. I wasn’t thinking clearly, but I knew I should be home beforethey returned. Now I can’t imagine going back.
“Do you have any painkillers, by any chance?”
He nods. Smiles as he hands me the packet. Then he watches me walk away; I can sense it. Because he knows what I will do. He knows it before I do.
Twenty minutes later, I’m freshly showered, made up, and ready to go. When he sees me, Amir’s jaw goes slack with awe, his gaze running over every part of my body, undressing me.
“Is that really you?” he says, startled.
I’m wearing a black fitted dress, all cleavage—one I bought on my first day but haven’t worn yet—thick eyeliner, and red lips. I dried my hair with my head down and now it’s wild, like a mane. “It’s a version of me.”
For a moment we just stand there, gauging each other. The tension in the air is thick and hazy, making me feel like I haven’t in a long time. Alive.
“You look different,” he says, coming around from behind the desk and grabbing my hand. “I like it. A lot.”
