If he only knew how much I’d love to tell him everything, how the woman he’s been falling for is really an exhausted stay-at-home mom; that if I lean in like I want to right now and kiss him passionately, that it will be the first time I’ve kissed a man besides John in over twenty years; that it scares me how strongly I’m considering doing just that. “It’s nothing,” I finally answer and pull myself up off the couch, away from temptation. “I’m just in shock, that’s all.” I walk over to the mirror and look at Casey’s reflection. “It feels like it’s not really happening to me.”
Charlie walks up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. “Casey Lee, you better get used to this. Because this is just the beginning of the biggest damn thing that’s ever happened to you.”
CHAPTER 23
* * *
casey
I freeze when I see the black convertible Bentley sitting in the driveway. “What the . . .”
“Don’t get too excited.” John laughs as he tosses the key in the air. “It’s just a loaner from a friend.”
“It’s gorgeous,” I say and walk around to inspect it before hopping in.
“Bet you never thought you’d be sitting in one of these, huh?”
“Right,” I say, not mentioning that I almost bought one just like it last month. I was at the dealership, ready to sign the papers for my dream car when I spied a couple in the showroom, kissing gently. I imagined them driving around town, top down, a slight breeze flowing through their perfectly coiffed hair. I tried to think of the person I could have my own convertible adventure with but the image of Destiny and me driving down Wilshire Boulevard kept popping into my head. Buying the Bentley suddenly seemed like a childish, silly thing to do—just another way to amuse myself. I grabbed my purse and hurried out past the lovey-dovey couple, ignoring the calls from the confused salesman.
“This is great,” I say sincerely. “What a gorgeous day.” It had been unseasonably warm for the past week, even for Los Angeles. I lean back and close my eyes to breathe in the sunshine. And even though I’m still pissed at her, I wish Rachel could be here to enjoy it. Rachel, who drives an old minivan with crushed Cheez-Its mashed into the seats and discarded juice boxes crowding the floor, would appreciate this. “Where are we going?”
“Down the coast,” he replies vaguely as he backs the Bentley out of the driveway gingerly, as if he’s afraid he might break it.
“If you’re going to drive like that the whole way, we may never get there!” I tease.
“Oh yeah? How’s this?” He guns the engine as he pulls out onto Washington Boulevard.
“Much better! How far down the coast are we going?”
“Far enough to get away from it all,” he says and puts his hand on my exposed leg. I resist the urge to flinch and try to settle back into my seat. The warmth of his hand is so comforting, wrapped tightly around my thigh. Is this how it feels to be someone’s someone? I plug in the iTouch and select Pearl Jam, our favorite band from college, and am rewarded with a huge smile from John. “You remembered.”
“Of course. It wasn’t that long ago.”
He sighs. “It sure feels like it sometimes.”
We chat the entire way down. Me, asking questions about his work; John, surprised that I asked. Doesn’t Rachel want to know what he does all day? Who he interacts with? What’s in his head? He opens up about his company’s top drug going generic next year and the possible layoffs that will likely come along with it, how although he’s not too fearful for his own job right now, he worries about all the sales reps and district managers who work with him. He tells me that he’s been losing sleep about the future of pharmaceuticals in general. He’s been there so many years. Where would he go?
“It’s never too late to reinvent yourself,” I say, trying to make him feel better although it’s not something I’m sure I believe. If I had to switch industries, I would be devastated. But it’s clearly weighing heavily on his mind and he’s gone to so much trouble to make me, or rather Rachel, happy. I feel strangely desperate to make him feel happy too.
We pull up to our destination, a charming hotel in Laguna Beach. My heart starts to pound as I imagine being trapped in a hotel room with him all night. I’m definitely going to have to throw down the period card. “We aren’t staying here tonight, right?” I ask briskly, and then not wanting to sound ungrateful, quickly add, “I’m just not sure that Audrey can handle the baby overnight.”