“No,” I spit, yanking on the door handle. The child locks kept me in. “No, let me out!”
“He won’t. If he hits the breaks, he’s fired. He knows that.” The driver never flinched, like he hadn’t even registered Tav’s words.
“Tav, what are you doing?”
“Saving your life.” He grit, eagle eyes angled on me. “Do what’s good for you for once and just listen to me.”
The car slowed a moment later. Tav’s door was opened by a man in a valet hat.“Evening.”
Tav nodded, threading our fingers together as he stepped out. I yanked my hand out of his, but followed him anyway. The valet raised an eyebrow. I probably looked homeless next to Tav’s designer suit and leather oxfords.
I hated Tav then for making me feel so inferior with just a look.
We crossed the lobby and reached the elevator before he spoke. “How did you get off the mountain?”
“I snowshoed. How didyou?” My tone was more accusing than I meant it to be.
He shook his head, a frustrated look crossing his features. “This again?”
My hands shook as the elevator trembled to a stop. The doors swung open and he gestured for me to exit first. I did, but then turned. “You owe me an explanation. You left me to fend for myself on the top of that mountain in a strange house—”
“That’s your house, Frey.” Tav’s eyes turned warm. He paused at a doorway, sliding a key card out of his pocket before pushing the door open. We entered the biggest hotel room I’d ever seen. “You helped me pick it out—the brochure—don’t you remember?”
“The vacation brochure sure, but—”
“That wasn’t for vacation. I had a feeling those antipsychotics were leaving holes in your short term memory—”
“What are you talking about? My short term memory is fine.”
“Obviously not.” He crossed the room and tipped a decanter of amber liquid into a crystal glass and emptied it in one swallow. “The video call with your mom’s estate lawyer the last week before we left for the chalet—you begged me to call-in to the meeting to help you make sense of everything, do you remember that?”
I shook my head, confusion coursing through me. Maybe that helped explain why Tav had the letter and some of my mother’s personal belongings, but then...what other holes did that leave in my memory?
“I-I don’t think…”
“Jesus, Frey, you think my plan was to leave you up there?” He closed the distance between us. “I love you, I would never—”
“Then why the campaign trail? Why this, why now? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It all came together so fast, dad just announced officially last week that he was running. Geez, Freya, after we lost the baby I did everything I could to make you happy but every day you fall further and further away from me.”
“No, I, I didn’t mean…” Confusion spun like a tornado through my system. What did I mean exactly?
The room. The photos.My childhood in polaroids all flashed before me.
“But my life—the wall of photos in the basement…”
Tav arched an eyebrow.
“Didn’t you see them? Someone has been watching me since...forever.”
“Frey, what the hell are you saying?”
He brought his hands to cup my cheeks, concern swirling in his familiar brown irises. “I did my best to offer you the world, but it wasn’t good enough. You really don’t remember any of the good stuff do you? The truth is, I lost you long ago to your heartache. I didn’t need couples therapy to tell me that.”
“So you've moved on?” I squeaked. “It’s the woman in the pantsuit, isn’t it?”
Tav shook his head and dropped his fingertips from my skin. “She’s good on paper.”
