CHAPTER 55

I began to relish New York—the vibrant, adventurous pulse of its nights, where the constant movement of people and machines offered a satisfying spectacle to

the restless eye. Walking up Fifth Avenue, I would single out intriguing women from the bustling crowds, imagining that in moments, I would step into their lives, unseen and without judgment. Sometimes, in my mind's eye, I would follow them

to their apartments tucked away on quiet streets, where they would turn, smiling back at me before disappearing into the warmth and darkness beyond their doors.

In the enchanting twilight of the city, haunting loneliness occasionally crept over me, mirrored in others—the young clerks lingering by windows, waiting for the solitary dinner hour, wasting the most poignant moments of night and life.

At eight o'clock, when the bustling lanes of the Forties overflowed with taxi cabs racing toward the theater district, a sinking feeling settled in my chest. Figures leaned together inside the cabs, voices mingled in song, laughter erupted from

unseen jokes, and the glow of cigarettes traced unintelligible gestures within. Imagining myself also rushing toward merriment, sharing in their intimate excitement, I silently wished them joy.

For a time, Casey Taylor faded from my view, only to reappear mid-summer. Initially, I was flattered to accompany her, a golf champion whose name was

known to all. But as time passed, it became something deeper—a tender curiosity. Behind her bored, haughty facade was a hidden truth—most affectations

eventually reveal something, though they may not at first. One day, I uncovered it. During a house party in Warwick, she left a borrowed car with the top down in the rain, then lied about it. A forgotten story from a night at Lily Winters's suddenly clicked into place at that moment. During her first major golf tournament,

there had been a scandalous incident—rumors that she had moved her ball to a better lie in the semi-finals, nearly escalating into a public scandal before fading away.