Eight
Paisley
1 week later
It was definitely no longer summer.
I exchanged my sundresses for stockings and pencil skirts, and took a heavier jacket with me to work. The air was cold, and my relationship with Travis had grown even colder.
But at least our project at work launched successfully. Georges’ latest perfume, a delectable blend of ginger, turmeric and dates with marshmallow cream hit markets in the US that day. His fragrance had sold out at Nordstrom, and I was delighted.
I even wore it myself. I loved spraying the sweet scent on my scarf and burying my nose in the fragrance on my way to work. It became an innocent little comfort, a habit I craved every day. We’d been working on the scent for so long, it lingered on all my clothes.
At home, Travis’ icy demeanor hadn’t changed a bit.
He still acted possessive, though his words implied he cared less and less about me. I was stressed from work, and even more stressed from returning home to see the apartment a disaster.
Travis worked remotely these days - finally - which apparently meant piles of garbage everywhere, a takeout bill neither of us could afford, and beer cans piling up, littering every surface in the apartment.
The last time we had sex was after his poker night. Just as I’d expected, he came home reeking of tequila, which he knew I hated, ripping off my panties while I pretended to be asleep. I didn’t make a sound.
I hoped he’d be disappointed, at least he’d stay off me then.
I knew I was being cruel and bitter. If I had any friends, they would have told me to deal with it, or end it. But I was scared. I wasn’t sure where to go when Travis kicked me out. I could afford a hotel for a few days… I had no debt, but I barely saved up anything.
Since Travis and I moved into the apartment after I aged out of the system, I’d paid the rent and bills. My way of saying thank you for his role in helping me get out of poverty.
But that meant I lived paycheck to paycheck. Rent in New York was exorbitant, and I didn’t dare question the rate Travis’ parents had given us.
I wondered if they’d give me a loan at work.
Not much… Just enough to get away.
I didn’t want to nag Travis yet, and blamed the worries on my overall stress levels instead. I’d chosen to stay with him, even knowing what I did. It was my decision and my choice to stay, so I knew I had to get over it eventually.
Even though I loved my job, I longed for a raise I was too afraid to ask for before the brand achieved more success. But maybe I could muster up the courage to ask for a small loan?
Or consider the alternative - tell Travis I knew the truth about his cheating, and wait for his reaction.
Not knowing what he’d do was terrifying. I didn’t want to believe he’d leave me, but he was a handsome man.
He had women fawning over him at every step, and I was sure his mother was ready to step in with a new potential daughter-in-law she actually had interest in.
I wished Travis would put more work into our relationship. Even cleaning up our place would have gone a long way. Over the past few weeks of him working at home, garbage had piled up, and I was sick of having to tidy up every day after I came home from work.
My jaw dropped when I came home one day in late September, and the apartment was gleaming, spotless.
I put my handbag down by the door and walked into the kitchen, where my stomach instantly twisted with uneasiness.
On the stove top, a pot of Bolognese was bubbling, the meaty aroma wafting through the pristine apartment. Next to it, a pan sizzled with thick, juicy cuts of bacon. Was this the only dish the damned woman could make?
And holding the pan, my mother in law, Barbra, who greeted me with her usual cool, calculating smile.
“Paisley,” she said. “My son is waiting for you in the dining room.”
I nodded politely, and allowed her to show me around in my own home, gritting my teeth. At least she hadn’t gone in for one of her signature, overbearing-yet-frosty hugs. They made me feel so weird. Like she was choking me with her disapproval.
Travis was sitting at the head of the table, with his father on the other end. “Paisley!”
He got up and hugged me tightly. I wasn’t sure it was just for show because his parents were there, but I leaned into it. I’d been desperate for some affectionate physical touch, and the apartment looked so nice for a change. I couldn’t help but cuddle up with Travis, seeking comfort. He looked good too, wearing a freshly laundered shirt.
“How nice of you to stop by,” I said to his father.
The man barely acknowledged me, buried in his phone as he muttered a greeting. Vincent McCormack was a criminal defense attorney, always busy and fully booked. That phone was permanently attached to his hand, every time I saw him without fail. Most of his words were muttered or hissed.
Barbra waltzed through the arches leading into the kitchen. She proudly ladled spaghetti Bolognese on every plate, starting with her son. Spaghetti sauce spilled over Travis’ plate.
She left me for last, and I politely declined.
“I’m vegetarian, remember?” I said gently.
“Oh.” She plopped on her chair, sprinkling more Parmesan over her dish. “I thought you’d gotten over that by now, Paisley! What a silly little habit. Where did you get that idea, anyway?”
I bit my tongue before I said something I regretted.
I wasn’t a fan of Barbra’s on the best of days, but she seemed especially determined to annoy me on this occasion. Instead of eating, I watched as they all dug into their food, my stomach gurgling pitifully. Usually, I’d just have some bread or a salad, but there weren’t any, so I picked myself up to get something else.
“Not very polite to leave in the middle of dinner, Paisley,” Barbra tut-tutted, and I fought the urge to scream. Instead, I plopped back down, biting back my remarks until the three of them finished eating.
Travis’ parents were older and annoyingly old-fashioned. Sometimes Barbra forced us to say grace too - something that was fun when I was a foster kid, living with my old family. Not with my frosty mother-in-law.
The smell of meat made me nauseous, so I made everyone coffee after lunch. At work, we had coffee beans as palate cleanser between smelling fragrance samples. Besides, the sooner I could get away from the table, the better.
I couldn’t blame Travis’ parents, they just loved their son.
Sure, Mrs McCormack had warned me I wasn’t good enough, but I could live with her barbed words.
Ever since I found out about his cheating, I wasn’t sure how I felt about Travis. I wasn’t sure why I stayed anymore.
Maybe I was just waiting for my way out. Maybe that loan would be it.
“Travis told us it was your birthday recently,” Barbra said. “We thought it would be nice if the two of you took a little vacation.”
“Oh?” I raised my brows, checking with Travis, who avoided eye contact.
He hadn't mentioned a holiday in years, but I had to admit, the idea was exciting.
I still fondly remembered our trip to his uncle’s ranch in Texas. It was the only vacation we took together.
I’d noticed the clean apartment, and the fact that he was making amends for messing up my birthday a month ago.
“Our family friend has a villa in Sicily,” Barbra announced proudly. “He’d be happy to have you house sit for him, he’s traveling for some awards show or other. We’ve taken the liberty of booking your tickets.”
She handed me a white envelope. I pulled out two plane tickets, still in disbelief, and only half of it because Barbra knew my last name.
Paisley Deville and Travis McCormack.
New York to Palermo, Sicily.
I turned to Travis, a smile playing on my lips. “Did you know about this?”
“Our way of treating our special boy,” Barbra beamed, ignoring me completely. Not that I cared. A lovely, warm vacation was exactly what the doctor ordered, and I was excited. “You’ll stay for a week.”
“Thank you so much,” I exclaimed, genuinely surprised they’d gone to such great lengths. I hugged Barbra on their way out, imagining more warmth in the motion than there was. Travis’ Dad just shook my hand awkwardly, still looking at his phone.
Still, the surprise was special enough to make me bury the rest of my worries. Maybe this trip would change my mind. I told myself there was still hope
I couldn’t stop thinking about what Hawkes had told me about Sarah. Finding out Sarah had been lying all along would break my heart, and I wasn’t sure I could bear it, as inevitable as it was.
A few days later, as I sat alone at home, I thought about texting Hawkes again.
I wanted to see him desperately… Travis wasn’t home, so I could get away without being seen, and I could tell him he’d prevented me from going to see Sarah. I bit my bottom lip, worrying about everything.
It was getting hard to keep pretenses.
As desperate as I was to get out of my relationship, I was starting to become afraid of Hawkes Rizzo.
I knew I was too scared to run from him, and my guilt was stronger than ever.
I needed to send him a text to update him on the Sicily situation. I was convinced he’d be delighted I was going, and I was eager to tell him more about what I’d found out.
Travis’ family booked us a trip to Sicily. I’ll be gone a week.
Like hell you will. You’re not going, Paisley. Get out of it. NOW
The reply came back so quickly I had to blink twice to register it.
I fought the urge to reply for ages. I was desperate to tell him the truth, what Travis had done to me, but a part of me was terrified Hawkes would end him. Did I really want to be responsible for sending that man to prison again?
The second message came a few hours later. I was still alone.
I’ll give you money if you don’t go on this trip.
The last one came just when Travis came home, muttering something about needing to pack soon.
Please, Paisley. You can’t go. Swear you won’t go.
I couldn’t bring myself to reply.