Page 68 of Not on the Same Page

He doesn’t quite look like he believes me, but he nods. “Talk later?”

“We’d be stupid to continue this and pretend like it didn’t change things.”

“Is it so bad if it did?”

The last time we talked, we got recklessly close to admitting things that have so far been better left unsaid. And no matter how much I might want what my friends seem to have, I still can’t shake this fear.

My mom was taken away. My aunt never really wanted me. Even worse, she lied to me and my mom. I can’t trust anyone who is supposed to be close to me. Maybe I’m better off alone.

If I invite Casey into my life any more than I already have, there’s no guarantee he’ll stay. And that scares me more than anything else.

But I can’t say any of that right now. Maybe not ever, but definitely not in the hallway of the press offices with other people right there.

“Sure,” I choke out.

“Um,” Imani starts cautiously. “So, what now?”

Casey breaks eye contact. The hallway snaps back into focus. It’s only the three of us there now—Scarlett and Ryan must have left. I couldn’t say when that happened.

Luckily, Casey doesn’t seem as affected by any of that as I am, so he jumps right in, leading Imani to a small conference room where two people from publicity are waiting with cameras. He has Imani sit in front of a few papers that have been laid out on the table. There is some repositioning and rearranging of the lights in the room before Imani signs the contract to the soundtrack of clicking camera lenses, beaming from ear to ear.

Casey somehow ended up on the other side of the room from me, and he watches Imani with pride. When he doesn’t look at me at all, I wonder if his placement in the room was by accident or by design, or if I’m just being paranoid about the whole thing for no good reason.

After the little photoshoot, publicity leaves us and we make our way to Casey’s office. He and Imani talk about her book, and I chime in when I feel the need, but by-and-large, I’m still finding it difficult to focus. Especially with the knowledge that, the last time I was here, Casey fucked me right up against the wall behind me.

When they both seem satisfied with everything related to her manuscript, we say our goodbyes and I lead Imani back out to my car. No sooner do the doors shut does she swivel in her seat to face me.

“Is there something going on between you and Casey?”

I should have seen this coming, but I sputter on a cough anyway. “Why do you ask?”

She shoots me an incredulous look. “Are you serious? Were you just in the same room I was?”

Waving my hand as if to clear the air of her words, I shake my head. “We go way back.”

She hums, unconvinced. “I have a lot of old friends, but none of them have ever looked at me the way he was looking at you every time he got the chance today. You might not realize it, but that man is in love.”

“Love?” I can’t help but yelp, as if the word burned me. As if I want to back away from that flame as far as I can before it hurts me even more. “No, no, no. Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve been…working closely. That’s all.”

“Sure. ‘Working.’” Imani puts air quotes around the word. “Look, it doesn’t bother me if you two are seeing each other. I don’t know what the rules are about that sort of thing, but whatever you’re doing resulted in a great deal for me. As far as I’m concerned, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. I just think you should have your eyes open about it, is all.”

As if that’s all that needs to be said, she turns back to face the front and buckles her seatbelt, the click punctuating the entire conversation. Like she hasn’t just given me something to chew on for the entire ride back to her hotel.

I start my car and pull out of the parking lot, almost glad to leave the offices behind me. But I am going to have to figure some shit out, and fast. Imani won’t be the only one to notice something between us. And, right now, I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.

24

CASEY

“How was your weekend showing Imani around the city?” Ryan is sitting in the chair facing my desk, an ankle crossed over his knee and a smug look on his face. Based on that look alone, I’m guessing he’s not here to talk about Imani.

“Great,” I say distractedly. I was in the process of responding to a rather cryptic email from one of my new author’s agents when Ryan barged in here. Not to mention that the weekend was far from what I thought it might be. It wasn’t because of Imani or her friend—it was incredibly enjoyable watching their eyes bug out of their heads at the fancy lunch at the top of the John Hancock building, and the way they giggled the entire time on the Navy Pier Ferris wheel. Trina and I took them to the Field Museum and the Shedd Aquarium, hopping from one to the other because of their close proximity, and then treating them to Chicago-style hotdogs from one of the vendors on the lawn of the museum campus. Imani was more adventurous there, laughing as she tried to keep track of all the toppings. Her friend, on the other hand, insisted on only mustard since we told her ketchup was absolutely forbidden.

Anyone on the outside looking in would have called it a great success. We were able to snap a few more pictures of Imani for our socials, and everyone had a great time. But I could tell Trina was reserved. I had noticed the bags under her eyes when she and Imani were in the office on Friday, but in the light of day, they were even more apparent. And I couldn’t miss the way she’d slump when she thought no one was watching her, or how often she was checking her phone.

I told myself she was probably waiting for news on another important deal, but that didn’t connect all the dots. Why the exhaustion? Why the bags under her eyes?

I never noticed before how good she was at pretending everything is okay. Though, I guess maybe I’ve never had an occasion to see that part of her. But every time someone spoke to her or needed something from her, she’d straighten up, flash a brilliant smile, and no one but me was ever the wiser.