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Back When We Were Bright and Beautiful Save as PDF
Chapters (72)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. Part One
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. Part Two
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. 35
  41. 36
  42. Part Three
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. Epilogue
  68. Author’s Note
  69. Acknowledgments
  70. About the Author
  71. Also by Jillian Medoff
  72. About the Publisher

He laughs. “You’ll get better. Stay focused and don’t look back. It goes quickly. Before you know it, you’ll be my age.”

“Oh please, Anton. You’re like a giant oak. If anyone’s gonna live forever, it’s you.”

Despite a mutual affection, Anton and I never depart from our assigned roles or scripted lines. Our conversation, while pleasant, is all surface and deflection. But don’t let this fool you. As a long-serving, high-ranking Valmont employee, Anton occupies a seat of power. Doormen may be invisible, but they’re all-seeing and all-knowing. They’re here and not here, like a conscience.

The elevator stops, and Anton makes a sweeping motion. “Welcome home, Cassie. We’ve missed you.” His tone is light, but he touches my shoulder and offers a fatherly squeeze. “Take care of yourself, dear girl.”

“Thank you, Anton.” Flashing a smile, I radiate well-bred confidence and nonchalance. “But I’m a survivor.” It’s Billy we need to worry about, I almost add. Except Nate told me to keep my mouth shut, so I step out of the elevator and into our foyer. I feel Anton observing my every move. Still, I say nothing. If he doesn’t know about Billy, I won’t be the one to tell him.

5

THE NEXT MORNING, I WAKE UP TO AN OMINOUSLY QUIET house. It was just as quiet—and eerie—last night. By the time I got home, it was one-thirty. Nate had gone to his place, but Lawrence, my dad, always waits up for me. So when I stopped by the celebration room, expecting to find him, the empty space felt like a rebuke. Hours later, I heard padding footsteps outside my door. When they slowed, I thought it might be him, making sure I got in. But it was more likely Maeve, our housekeeper, who has family in Ireland she calls at odd times. Our house has four quadrants; and I have my own separate wing, with Maeve, on one side of the house. My brothers and parents are on the other side. Being far away used to frighten me, but as I got older, I relished the distance and solitude. To be fair, I’m sure my parents did too.

Being back here makes me ache for Billy. When we were little, the two of us were always together, playing on the terrace or cuddled up on the couch. We’re so close in age we liked the same TV shows and movies: Wonder Pets!, Elmo, SpongeBob, Disney. The only time we diverged was when I went through a pink princess phase, and Billy stayed loyal to Elmo. He dragged that scrubby red Muppet everywhere.