I flinch but speak up. “I’m sorry,” I say again. “I really am. I took for granted that you’d be going with me.”
“But did you want that?” he asks, his eyes now searching mine.
“I did,” I answer honestly. Whether Casey or I ended up in New York, we both needed someone like Charlie looking out for us. I feel tears sting my eyes when I think of being there without him, of being all alone and away from my family. That I’ll miss all of Charlotte’s milestones and Sophie’s next big performance. My resolve begins to crumple and I look away and wipe my eyes.
“Hey, don’t cry for me, Casey.” Charlie stands up. “I’ll be just fine.”
I know he’ll be just fine—but I won’t. What have I done?
I have to think fast—how do I do this? Before I know it, I blurt out: “Will you come with me to John’s birthday party tonight?” I have to get the real Casey and Charlie into the same room. I know—absolutely—that this is the first step in fixing this mess.
Charlie eyes me suspiciously.
“I promise: No red carpet. No paparazzi. Only really good people that I love—and that I think you’ll love.”
“No bad cheese trays?”
Was he cracking a joke? A good sign.
The wheels in my head are spinning wildly. I’ve got to get them back together; I’ve got to figure out how we can switch back. “There will be no bad cheese trays,” I say aloud. “That is the one thing I can guarantee.”
“Then how can I say no?” Charlie says. I pray that I can get the woman he loves back into her own body before it’s too late.
CHAPTER 33
* * *
casey
“You are so not wearing that.” I shake my head as I catch Sophie slinking down the hall in a barely there green minidress. Then I realize, it’s practically a clone of the one I wore to last year’s People’s Choice Awards, a dress I also had no business wearing at my age. “Is that the same dress that . . .”
“Aunt Casey wore last year. Yes!” Sophie throws up her arms dramatically and lets out an exasperated sigh. I never realized the way I was dressing was affecting young girls like Sophie. I drop down into John’s favorite leather chair and rub my temple. What had I been doing? Somewhere along the way, I’d totally lost sight of who I was. I stare at Sophie, who looks so much older than her fourteen years. “Why do you treat me like I’m a baby?” she cries out as John walks by and does a double take.
“You are not wearing that tonight,” he says with finality. Sophie glances at me and I can tell she’s wrestling with wanting to lash out and ruin John’s surprise. I stay silent but lock eyes with her and shake my head quickly.
My, how life had changed. I had never thrown a party for anyone else, unless you counted the time I kidnapped Rachel for a birthday trip to Las Vegas when we were still in college. And even that wasn’t really selfless; I had been begging her to go for weeks but she had insisted she had to study. So I took her against her will and plied her with kamikaze shots until she agreed it had been a great idea. Annoyed as I had been when I originally took over the planning for John’s party, I had to admit it really did feel good to do something special for someone else. I watch Sophie, holding my breath.
Sophie opens her mouth and sighs loudly. “Fine! I’ll just go put on one of your old dresses with shoulder pads or something to make you guys happy. Who cares what I want anyway, right?” She huffs out of the room.
“No one’s asking you to wear shoulder pads,” I call after her. “I’d be happy with anything that didn’t look like something a hooker would wear.” I look at John and roll my eyes, feeling a million miles away from the woman who wore the same thing less than a year ago.
“Or Aunt Casey,” she snaps, her door slamming behind her.
“It’s just a phase, right?” John asks.
“God willing,” I say, trying not to think about how much Sophie’s comment hurts. I push my head down into his chest to avoid the kiss I know he’s looking for and feel a renewed sense of urgency to get Rachel back into this body. I won’t be able to hold John off for much longer.
He leans down and whispers in my ear. “You know what I want for my birthday?”
“A new putter?” I ask hopefully before he whispers, his breath hot on my ear, what he’d really like. My cheeks flush. I remember the ripped panties from the night I took what’s-his-name home. Was John wild like that too? I didn’t want to find out.
“Are you blushing?” he asks, his eyes full of amusement.
“No,” I stammer and pull away, backing into the wall.
“So, what do you think?” He reaches out for me again. “Can I get that for my birthday?”
Not if I want Rachel to speak to me ever again. Or if I ever want to be able to look you in the eye again. “Sure,” I say and force a smile.
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