Your Perfect Life

I smooth my dress one more time before heading downstairs where John is giving Audrey strict instructions for tonight. “Mom!” Audrey’s eyes widen. “You look amazing!”


“Thank you,” I say, hugging her tightly. “Your dad bought it for me.”

She fingers the soft fabric then high-fives her dad. “Nice job.”

John blushes and I’m struck by how cute he looks.

“I do manage to get a few things right here and there,” he says as he grabs my hand. My heart skips a beat, involuntarily. “Are you ready for some fun?” he asks.

I think of Charlie and Rachel, imagining them drinking champagne somewhere in New York. “You have no idea!”





CHAPTER 22



* * *





rachel

As I pull the down comforter around me, I’m surprised by how good it feels to be back in Casey’s bed. To not wish even for a second that I was in my own with John. Charlie and I returned from New York earlier this afternoon, and although we shared a car service from the airport and he’d not so subtly hinted at wanting to come over (his hand planted firmly on my upper thigh the entire ride home), I’d feigned exhaustion and promised to call him later.

As the driver pulled my bags out of the trunk and Charlie stood awkwardly on the curb, I’d wanted more than anything to invite him in, but that damn little voice inside my head warned me that it would be a very bad idea. That annoying little voice that has been constantly reminding me that I’m not the real Casey Lee. That I’m not, as the real Casey had so harshly pointed out, the one Charlie’s falling for. But what if the voice is wrong? If Casey’s wrong? What if I am the one he’s falling for? Sure, it’s not my body, but it’s my personality, my mind, and my humor. Isn’t it?

We’d had an amazing time in New York—professionally and personally. The interview with Daisy McKnight was even better than the one with her husband. Even though there were five cameras and a dozen staff and crew surrounding us, it felt like we were just two girlfriends talking. I abandoned my blue cards midway through and she’d opened up about everything—even things she’d said originally would have to be off the record, like her suspicion there were several other women. And in the last few minutes of the interview, I took a risk. I asked her to call Ryan on camera. And if he answered, to tell him how she felt. And she’d agreed without hesitation, pulling out her bedazzled iPhone. I held my breath as the phone rang and looked at the staff and crew, all leaning in, looking like vultures circling a carcass as they waited to get the shot, the sound bite, whatever was needed to make this interview a hit. Of course we’d needed to handle some technical housekeeping before we could roll tape on the call. An audio guy had to hook Daisy’s cell to a microphone so we could hear Ryan’s end of the conversation. And Ryan had to give a verbal release for his interview to be used on camera after he’d answered. To our surprise, he did. But even after all that, the conversation between them was emotional and heartbreaking and raw.

I’d scanned the room for Charlie, as Ryan and Daisy cried together and Ryan apologized. When I’d found him, our eyes locked and I knew he was thinking what I was thinking. This was it. The career-changing moment that would open more doors than I ever thought possible. But I could also tell that he was looking not at the Casey Lee everyone else saw, the one whose face was plastered with foundation and eyes were heavy with multiple layers of false eyelashes, but the Casey who couldn’t wait to wash her face, throw on a pair of sweats, and knock back a couple of cocktails and scream to the rooftops, I’ve arrived! I may be pushing forty, but dammit, I’ve arrived! But then there was that little detail about not really being Casey Lee, and unless I wanted to stay in Casey’s body permanently (was that even an option?) this was not my career-changing moment, this was not my unspoken moment with a cute and sweet man across the room, this was not my life.

Liz Fenton , Lisa Steinke's books