Your Perfect Life

“Why do you say that? She looks like she’s having fun with that guy. She looks . . . happy, happier than I’ve ever seen her look.”


I pop the laptop back open and peer at the picture again. Is that what I look like when I’m with Charlie? Not Rachel as me, but the real me? I sigh and think back to how my heart would skip a beat when he walked into the studio. That he was the only person there who seemed to get me. How much it hurt when he wouldn’t even make eye contact for months after I melted down and told him never to call me again. And how I wish I could tell him that I still question if I made the right decision that day. “Yes, she does look happy. But she works with him. You can’t just go around ice skating with your producer.”

“Why not?” Audrey asked. “If you find love, why should it matter where you find it?” She scrolls down the page and clicks on the other photos. “Don’t you want Aunt Casey to be happy?”

“More than anything,” I say quietly. “But life isn’t always that simple.”

? ? ?

Three hours later, I hang up the phone and mark yet another hotel off my list. I’ve called half the hotels in the city trying to locate Brian, our body-switching bartender, to no avail. Even if there was a Brian on staff, no one fits his description. But I’ve refused to give up, calling at least ten hotels a day, hoping once I track him down, he’ll finally tell us how to get our lives back. I know both he and that psychic told us there’s a lesson to be learned here and that it has to do with a “promotion,” but so far the only thing I’ve learned is how to steam carrots and why Spanx are critical after having three kids. And with each day I’m here, I start to wonder even if we do make it back to our own lives, will I still fit into mine?

As I walk down the hall to Charlotte’s room and pull the blanket over her as she sleeps soundly, I want to figure out what the word promotion means in all of this, but I’m also scared of what it could mean. If it’s the key to switching back, leaving here might not be as easy as I want it to be. As much as I’ve always loved these girls, I’d always thought of motherhood as a burden, something I vowed to never be a part of. Something I thought I didn’t deserve. Now, as I stroke Charlotte’s sweet face, I’m not so sure anymore.

“Hey,” I hear John whisper from the doorway.

I put a finger to my lips and tiptoe into the hall. “Hey.” I glance at my watch and shut Charlotte’s door behind me. “You’re home early.”

“I am,” he says, a sly smile on his face as he tries to hide a box behind his back

“Um, what’s going on?” I reach behind him and grab the box. “What’s this?”

“That,” he says pointing to it, “is what you’re wearing tonight. Audrey’s going to watch the kids. Get dressed, I’m taking you out!”

“Are you serious?” I squeal. I hadn’t been out, well, since I was Casey. The thought of a Belvedere and soda makes my mouth water.

“You deserve a night out. Now go put this on,” he says, pushing me toward the bedroom.

I shut the door behind me, hoping he doesn’t follow. I have no idea what I’d do if he picked this moment to want to watch me undress. Even though it’s not my own body, it would just be awkward. I glance nervously at the door as I shake the box, equally scared to discover what might be inside. John always dressed well, but he wasn’t exactly someone I would want choosing my outfit, especially when I hadn’t had a proper night out in weeks. I pull away the paper apprehensively and find an exquisite black silk dress and oversized hoop earrings. It’s simple and sexy all at the same time. Well done, John! I set the box down on the bed and stare at Rachel’s reflection in the mirror, touched by John’s sweet gesture. He’d always been thoughtful; it was one of the things I’d always loved about him. Getting up early and running out to get coffee when we all woke up hung-over in college, and after Rachel found out she was pregnant with Audrey, making late-night trips to satisfy her every craving, never complaining when he gained ten pounds himself from indulging in all the late night snacks she demanded. That was the John I knew and loved.

I take my time getting ready, cherishing this rare time alone. I used to take time for granted, and now I realize Rachel doesn’t get much of it to herself. As I slip on the black dress, I also can’t help but wonder how Rachel will feel about her husband taking me on a date. And was John expecting some kind of gift in return? He may have given me my space while I was getting dressed (thankfully!), but would he later tonight when I was undressing?

I wondered if Rachel and Charlie were sharing a suite in New York. I’ve never taken her for the cheating type, but these weren’t exactly normal circumstances. Was it still cheating if she did it as me? And would the betrayal sting as much?

Liz Fenton , Lisa Steinke's books