I quietly slip my key in the front lock, slowly turning until I feel the soft click of it opening, and slither through the door. A piercing ring goes off. Shit. The new alarm system.
I quickly punch the six-digit code into the keypad and hold my breath. If Taylor finds me, I’ll just have to pretend it’s a late-night booty-call, breaking my self-imposed abstinence. Better yet, I’ll probably just confess everything right then and there and take my failure to sneak in as some sort of cosmic sign. I wait in complete silence for a minute, but it appears my quick disarming of the alarm has gone unnoticed. The heated concrete floors are a blessing: no creaking. I slip into the upstairs office, using the small flashlight on my phone to shine a light on the bookcase, gliding my fingers over the photo album that holds the picture of a young Lyla.
Is this why he was so angry when he found me up here, looking through the bookshelf?
I pull out the photo album. Nothing behind it. I slide my hand behind the books flanking it, feeling around with my fingertips, and that’s when I touch it: a wooden box, behind some smaller books to the right of the album. My heart aches. This is already too accurate. For a moment, I stop, wondering if it is better to leave things unknown, but I know that is foolish. I can make whatever decisions I want regarding my relationship with Taylor, but I am not willing to go into them blindly. I slide the box out carefully so as not to disturb the books with intentions of making a stealth exit. I place the box on a chair behind me, resisting the urge to open it right away. The best plan is to sneak back out and open it once I have cleared the premises.
I slide the album back into its spot with a small thud. I wince and pause for a moment. Silence. My heart races so quickly that my head feels floaty, almost as if I am outside of myself. I take a deep breath and tip toe out of the office, and almost instantly, I hear the click of a gun cocking. “Don’t move.” Harrison’s voice says calmly.
Chapter 36
“It’s me! It’s me!” I call out as the light switches on.
“Are you alone?” It’s Taylor’s voice. He’s standing to Harrison’s left, holding a gun as well.
“Yes!”
“For fuck’s sake,” Taylor says as they both sigh and lower their guns. “What the hell are you doing? It’s three in the morning!” His eyes lower to the wooden box resting on my hip. “What’s that?”
I give him a look, one that indicates we need to be alone. “Thank you Harrison. Sorry about this,” Taylor says.
“Of course,” Harrison nods. “Goodnight.”
Once Taylor is sure Harrison is out of earshot he says firmly. “Are you out of your mind? What the hell were you doing wandering through the house this time of night? We saw the car outside, and then heard noises, we thought someone might be using you to gain entry into the house.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, frustratedly.
“What the hell is going on? Are you going through the office?” Taylor’s asks, completely distressed and bewildered. He’s shirtless, in his boxers and bare feet, and I wonder if he has even had time to fully wake. “And what the hell is that?”
“It’s yours, isn’t it?” I ask, waving the box in the air.
“What are you talking about?” he asks, seeming even more confused than when the lights first switched on.
“This was behind your books, in your bookshelf. The one you were so angry to find me looking through.”
“Hell yes. And I am angry now. You snuck into my house in the middle of the night and are looking through my things! What is wrong with you?” His voice booms through the hallway. The gun in his hand makes me tense. “What the fuck is this about?”
“Tell me what’s inside.”
“I don’t recognize that box, Shy. I have no idea. I don’t know. A book? Photos? I swear I have no fucking idea. How about none of your fucking business? You are acting paranoid, what’s going on? Why did you come here?”
“I’m opening it.”
“Be my guest and then you have some serious explaining to do.”
I place the box on the desk in the office and flip open the unlocked latch. There is one thing in the box, and before I even pull it out, I know.
It was the last thing I wanted to see. The thing I was hoping to disprove.
Because the woman he raped was me, according to the content of this box.
I pinch the glossy latex with my thumb and forefinger, lifting it out of the box. My lips trembles with pain and fear, my chest quivers holding back a scream of desperation and devastation. My heart shatters like it was turned to ice and thrust against a wall.
“No. Fucking. Way.” Taylor says under his breath.
I pull open the mask, still holding the telltale imprint of my berry-colored kiss, as fresh as the day I laid my lips upon it.
***
Silence. There comes a point where the back and forth, the crying, the screaming, the denials, the questions, the accusations, they begin to lose their meaning. Especially when nothing makes sense. All that is left is silence, the kind of silence that is louder and more desperate than any shouting can convey.
We sit on opposite ends of the office in identical chairs, lost. Both of us feeling betrayed by the person who is our beacon, our truth.
We’ve gone around it endless circles.
What else does Rick know? I don’t know.
If this box isn’t yours, whose could it be? I don’t know.
How could you think I would do this? I don’t know.
Why didn’t you just come to me? I don’t know.
Give me anything, any sliver of proof this could be someone else. I don’t have any.
For two people who are so privy to secrets, it seems neither of us know anything.
Taylor finally breaks our exhausted silence. “Shy, I don’t have anything to disprove this. Yet. All I have is my word to you. I did not put that there. And if you can’t believe me, at this point…then what are we doing?”
“Taylor, all I want to do is believe you. But what am I supposed to do with this?” I say, pointing at the mask. “If it wasn’t him, then it was you. Those are your words turned against you.”
“So you really think I would do this to you?” That question tears me apart when I see his eyes redden. We’ve had this discussion before. I am tired of accusing and I know he’s tired of denying.
“Do you think Eric was in the house? You have security everywhere. Someone would have had to let him in. Or was it even him? What if it was someone else we trust? Someone we let into the house? My god, what if we invited this person to our wedding? What if when Rick rejected Eric’s proposal, he found someone else close to us who was willing?”
“I don’t know, but that makes for a small list. I don’t let many people into my home. You know that.”
“A small list of people, most of whom I love and trust.” Like a slide show on fast-forward, images of our closest friends and confidants flash through my mind. And while all the evidence is pointing to one of them, I cannot wrap my mind around that level of plotting and backstabbing from any of them.
“I don’t know which way is up anymore. I don’t know who to believe. I feel like the world is plotting against me. I feel like I’m losing it. I am starting to feel this will never end. Like I am living in a recurring nightmare. Every time I think it’s over, it finds a way to creep back in.”
“I’ll find who put this here. I’ll find that motherfucker…” Taylor vows.
“And what? Kill him? How much deeper are we going to go into this? When will it end? What are we doing?” I slump into my seat and the emotions pour out of me. This is the first time I truly don’t know what to do. What I want and what my rational thoughts say I should do are completely in conflict. It guts me at my core, and I feel as though there is no right answer.
I feel doomed.
Taylor’s shadow blocks the ambient light and his presence cloaks me as he kneels in front of me. His hand tenderly brushes my hands away from my face and pushes up my chin. I recogn
ize the look in his eyes: it’s that uncertainty they held when I slept for weeks, cried myself to sleep, didn’t eat. A time when he thought I might be broken for good. A time when he thought he might be losing me. He takes my hand in his and leans his forehead against my hand, like a subject bowing to his queen.
“Shy, this will end. This will end. I promise this to you. Please don’t give up on me, on us. I know that the easiest explanation is that this was all me, but I know that your heart hurts. It hurts because it knows me, and it knows I would not do this. I know I am capable of terrible things, but not this. Not to you.”
“This hurts so much. To feel like this. I don’t think this is you, but then I feel like an idiot because the pieces fit. Maybe my love is blinding me,” I say, realizing full well that I am bouncing my thoughts about a betrayal against the possible perpetrator. But my possible perpetrator is also my most trusted confidant.
“Let me fix this. Give me chance to fix this. Remember? Faith. I need you to have faith in me. Right now, that’s all I can ask. But please, please don’t leave me. Because if you think I will kill whomever is responsible for this now, if you leave me, there will be nothing to control the rage. I will have no mercy. I will have no goodness left and I will destroy without discretion. Not just the person who did this, but their families, their friends. I will make them feel the pain they brought upon me a thousand times over.”
And suddenly, like clouds parting in a storm, it all becomes clear to me: This man, who is bowing before me, this man who is proud, and strong, and savage, is begging me on his knees.
I would never, ever use you as a pawn. You are far too valuable to me, you are my queen.
“If you truly believe I did this to you, that I wore that mask, then you should walk away. Fuck, you should run. But if not, let me take care of this. Let me find out how Eric got this in here, who he worked with, and let me make it so you never have to worry about this again. Let me destroy them.”
I look fondly into Taylor’s teal eyes, so much love and pain inhabiting them at once, and I say to him: “Find out who it was, and ruin them. Make them live with the doubt and fear I have had to live with. But don’t go after their family and friends, please. They are innocent, just as I was when Eric decided to get back at you.”
“I had no intentions of doing so. As long as I have you, I won’t go that far.” It’s a proclamation of love and a threat all at once.
“Shy, I know…you don’t want to hear this, but Rick knows about our private life. You said Eric told him about me and us.” Without saying the words, his tone of voice is asking permission to silence him.
“No. We understand why he was acting erratically now. He thought I was in danger.”
“You think his opinion will change? That he’ll just accept us? He’s not acting rationally. Right now, he probably thinks that what we found in that box is the end of us. But he doesn’t fucking understand that nothing will take you from me. I don’t trust what he will do next.”
“The only thing I will agree to is buying his silence. He doesn’t deserve to be hurt. He sucks right now, but his intentions were good. He fessed up. He hasn’t hurt anyone. People are not chess pieces you can knock over and pull off the board. And you may not fully understand this, but just because I am not with him anymore, doesn’t mean I don’t care about his well-being. You know we can keep him quiet, you have bought people’s silence before. Even Rick has a price. I know him well enough to know that.”
“Fine. It should be easy, he only has hearsay anyway. But I will also be buying his distance. Meaning I don’t want to see or hear about him again. And I don’t want you to ever see him again. Starting now, my people will be in touch with him and you will have nothing to do with it.”
I sigh. This is really the end of the road for Rick and I. For good. “Yes. Do it.”
“And whoever it is doesn’t know we know yet. They are expecting a reaction from you when you find it. They likely knew that Rick would open his mouth and that it was just a matter of time. So you have to act like nothing is amiss. Only you and I know anything. Not another soul.”
My chest deflates as I try to summon up the courage to live amongst someone who hopes to destroy me until Taylor can stop him.
Taylor stands up tall, a new and fierce look of determination in his eyes: a mix of passion and frigidity. He pulls me up to my feet. “This will end. There will be no trace of anyone who tried to hurt us. I will scorch the earth if I have to. There will be no fucking traitor at our wedding.”
***
I slip back into the farmhouse. My heart is so heavy, I am not sure I can carry the weight for the rest of the week..
Unlike Taylor’s house, the old plank floors creak and croak with almost every step.
“Shyla? What the hell?” It’s Kristin peering from the kitchen.
“Heeey,” I say, hoping she doesn’t notice my puffy eyes.
“Is everything okay? Where they hell were you?”
How about why the hell are you up at five thirty in the morning, dammit?
“Everything is fine. I had to go to Taylor’s for something.”
“You sure? You were acting kind of off after you spoke to your mother.”
“Yeah, just wedding stress.”
“So you went to do some wedding planning in the middle of the night?”
“No, I just needed to talk to him about stuff. I was stressed and I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You expect me to believe that?” she says with her hand on her hip. I notice she doesn’t have any lipstick on, which is such a rare sight.
“What?” I ask, feeling interrogated.
She busts out laughing. “You broke your little one-week abstinence vow, didn’t you? You little skank.”
I laugh, feeling a great sense of relief. “I figured I could reset the clock for four more days.”
“You say you two aren’t ready for kids, but you keep this up and you are going to have a litter, woman.”
“Thank god for modern medicine,” I say.
“Well, I know Taylor is your future life partner and all, but you can still knock on my door at anytime. I know I was being a selfish bitch when you announced the engagement. You’re right, our lives have gotten so much bigger, and it’s not stupid boys and parties. You will always be my sister from another mister though.”
“Stop it, you are going to make my mascara run.” I say, as Kristin comes in for a hug. “I think I am going to try and get a few hours of sleep,” I say as we part.
“Me too, I just came down for some water and the wine makes me pee like every hour.”
As I pass a window, I see Harrison’s car outside. He will be our escort while Taylor keeps some H.I. security for himself. A cold feeling washes over me as I realize that until we find out who helped Eric, I will be spending the week leading up to my wedding in the possible company of one of my terrorizers.
Chapter 37
“Oh my god, that dress!” Lizzy screams as Mona unzips the garment bag. The custom Claire Pettibone gown glimmers under the bright winter sun shining through the window.
The slinky sheath gown appears endlessly long. Tiers of pale gold raw eyelash lace run the length of the cap-sleeve dress, which is layered over a platinum satin slip. A gentle flair just below the knee blooms like a delicate flower, with subtly layered lace that reveals each layer before it. Only sheer scalloped lace adorns the shoulders, back, and small train. The center of the v-neck is an antique silver and pearl brooch, and at the lower back where the sheer lace meets the beginning of the silk lining is a delicately embroidered pale silver-thread medallion.
Lizzy fans her eyes frantically as Kristin hugs me from behind and together, we all take the beautiful vintage-inspired gown.
This is really happening today.
And the impostor may still be at our wedding.
Since the discovery of the mask, Taylor has become almost fanatical about finding the identity of the person, li
ke a man obsessed. I understand why, of course, but he’s barely even spoken to me. When we do speak he is tense and quiet. The combination of physical and emotional distance might be the loneliest I have ever felt with him. From my understanding through Lizzy, he has basically thrust most of his business responsibility onto poor Henry, asking him only to call upon him if absolutely necessary. Luckily, everyone just assumes that this behavior is from the stress of the wedding and the death of his prodigal brother, which is now public knowledge for anyone who might bother to take an interest in Taylor.
Jill Beauchamp tromps her way into the house. “It’s just astonishingly gorgeous out there. And it’s all ready for you to see. I love it when everything is done early. Such a good omen,” she says.
“Let’s go!” The ladies pull me downstairs. The first thing I notice are the paths created leading to the barn. Carefully plowed, they are all just above snow level, with bannisters to each side made of white-washed wood. A few steps lead up to the beginning of each snow bridge, so that when you reach the plateau it is almost as if you are floating above the acres of pure white snow. “Oh my god,” I gasp, looking over otherwise untouched winter landscape. “This is amazing!”
“Keep going, bride!” Jill insists. “Wait until you see the barn.”
Jill and I agreed that she would work her magic and I wouldn’t see the barn until it was complete. That isn’t to say I didn’t have a hand in it. I created a mood board with tons of details, as my experience in art and design would not let me go without having a say in the look and feel of the wedding. We discussed options, so she knew what I would be open to, and what I would be completely against. But then I let her take the notes and run.
All the above-snow walkways lead to a massive deck, with rows of chairs that appear to be made of aged raw wood branches. Glass candle vases of random shapes and sizes line the isles. Bleached barren tree branches, tangled in unlit string lights, arch the entire walk along the aisle. At the end is an arch of tangled branches, also tangled in light and flanked by candle vases.
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