Chapter 22 Taylor
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 on my trip 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 have any 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’t matter 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.
The room feels familiar and foreign at the same time.
The sheets look even whiter and crisper in real life, the balcony seems smaller, and the view is so much sharper.
In an hour or so, it’ll be dark enough for the Eiffel Tower to sparkle in the night for a few minutes, as it does hourly.
Maybe I’ll take the scenic route home to watch it up close.
I don’t have a balcony to watch it from, but I’ll still have myself.
The door to the bathroom is halfway open, enough for me to see Cassie’s head wobble from side to side and to notice the empty bottle of wine on the floor.
She hasn’t posted in the last ten minutes; I checked while I was going up the elevator.
She must be really drunk. One might even say she brought this on herself.
I stand in the doorframe, the music drowning my thoughts. My brain is a pile of mush, my fingers tingling with fear. At the same time, I can almost feel the weight lifting off my shoulders at the idea of Cassie being gone. Out of my life forever.
It takes me a few more seconds to notice she has stopped moving. In fact, I’m not sure if she was moving before. If she drank all that wine… But that alone wouldn’t do it. What is going on?
Another step farther and I’m inside the bathroom, about to reach the edge of the tub.
That’s when I sense a presence behind me, the warmth of a body, a woodsy fragrance.
Before I can process anything, a hand clasps around my mouth while another one grabs around my waist sharply, encasing my arms. I’m too stunned to even scream.
I, too, drank a lot of wine, and I’m slow to react.
Next, I’m being dragged out of the bathroom, along the bottom of the bed. The upbeat music covers every sound as I try to free my arms, kicking at his sides. Just when I think I’m about to set myself free, I trip and fall backward.
And then the room goes black.