It was time to get back to my own life, and Rachel and I had made a pact to make figuring out how to switch back our number-one priority after the party. For the first time since this all happened, I actually felt like she was ready to come back to her own life, and despite the fact that I would miss the little things, like Charlotte’s sweet kisses and Audrey and Sophie’s witty banter at breakfast each morning, I needed to reclaim my own body so I could make some major changes to my life. First up? Telling Charlie how very wrong I was that night and beg for his forgiveness.
The slam of the front door jolts me from my thoughts as I turn to see Rachel walk in with a bottle of my favorite cabernet. “Aunt Casey!” the girls cry and run over to give her a hug. She grabs two glasses from the cabinet and fills them high before handing one to me. “To taking care of business,” she toasts me with a sly smile and glances over at Audrey. “Thank you,” she adds quietly.
“Anytime,” I say before clinking her glass one more time. “To friendship,” I add.
Rachel takes a huge swig of her wine. “I’ll drink to that!”
CHAPTER 32
* * *
rachel
Promotion.
Why hadn’t I told Casey that I might have figured out what the psychic meant? Maybe it’s because I know the gravity of what the word means—that I hold Casey’s career and our fates in my hands. But there’s no turning back now, I think as I push open the heavy oak conference room door and walk in, the network executives’ eyes fixed on me.
“Casey.” Ava rises and stretches her long fingers my way. Her acrylic nails are a bright shade of red, like Charlotte’s lips after she eats a handful of strawberries. Charlotte. I push the image of her chubby cheeks and big blue eyes out of my mind and take Ava’s hand in mine, giving her a firm shake, hoping she doesn’t notice I’m trembling. The other two execs stand and we exchange pleasantries.
“Coffee?” Ava’s assistant asks me, a look of fear in her eyes, the dark circles under them betraying the cost of working for Ava. I think of her boss’s persistence these past few weeks; the phone calls, the emails, the demands that I give her a decision.
Am I easy to work for? I wonder, watching Destiny as she taps away on her iPad with one hand and reads an email on her BlackBerry with the other, my Starbucks coffee nestled between her knees. I’m not sure what Destiny thinks of me here, but I know I’m not easy at home. I’ve been way too hard on the girls, especially Audrey, holding on to her so tightly that I’ve failed to notice she’s no longer a girl, but a young woman. And John. I’d disappeared so far into myself since Charlotte was born that he couldn’t even see me anymore.
I force a smile and shake my head no, motioning toward Destiny and my coffee.
“So, Casey, here we are.” Ava taps her pen on the sleek mahogany tabletop.
“Yes, here we are,” I repeat, thinking again that I can change my mind. I can get up right now and leave and never look back. For some reason, the exterior of my house flashes in my mind. I see the white shutters, the front door we painted red because it was good feng shui, the ivy-covered lattice, the flower beds blooming with tulips. It’s an adorable home. But why hadn’t I seen it that way before? I used to look at it and see only the chipped paint, the dent on the garage door, the weeds that needed to be pulled. But now I feel a deep hole forming inside me as I think I might lose it forever.
“I’m just going to cut to the chase here. You going or not?” Ava gives me a cold stare and I sit up a little straighter, suddenly remembering my eighth-grade English teacher who would wait forever for you to answer a question if she called on you. Once, one of my poor classmates, a painfully shy redhead who spoke about three words to me in all the time I knew her, was called on to answer a question about something we were supposed to have read the night before. We all watched her shift uncomfortably in her seat until she finally started crying and admitted she hadn’t done her homework. I felt like her now, like Ava wouldn’t so much as blink until I gave her an answer—any answer.
“Yes, I’m going,” I finally say. My heart is beating so hard in my chest that I inhale sharply through my nose to try to steady it.
“I’m—well, we—we are so pleased.” Ava claps her hands together like a hungry seal and the two other execs start typing away feverishly on their smartphones. No doubt telling their lawyers to draw up the contract immediately before I change my mind.
Suddenly Ava’s assistant appears with a bottle of Mo?t & Chandon and pops it, the cork flying across the room, everyone erupting in a fit of nervous laughter. I bite back my tears and decide what’s done is done.