Page 6 of Not on the Same Page

But when Scarlett sees us and her face lights up, it occurs to me that I didn’t see her smile all that often when I knew her before. It changes her whole demeanor. She almost looks unrecognizable.

She stands and hugs me first. “Hey, Casey. I’m glad you came.”

“You’re glowing,” I say without really thinking about it.

Scarlett scoffs. “Don’t pull that shit. I told you, pregnancy isn’t magical.”

“No.” I shake my head. “But happiness is.”

If I didn’t know any better, I could swear she blushes as her blue eyes dip down. Yeah, she’s happy all right. And again, I have to try very hard to swallow that jealousy that has been creeping up on me since we were back at the office.

We sit and order drinks and food, easy, light conversation flowing between the three of us as we wait. The warm air and even warmer camaraderie are balms to my soul—something I didn’t even know I was missing. The last time I was out with anyone might have been the company Christmas party six months ago.

“Working on anything new?” I ask Scarlett. It would seem that, even though the realization that I need more of a social life is dawning on me, I still can’t fully avoid talking about work.

She tips her head back and forth as she absently rests a hand on her still-flat stomach. “Yes and no.” She eyes Ryan, then turns her attention back to me. “I decided to step back for a while. I don’t want to be over-stressed right now, you know?”

“Makes sense.”

Using her fork, she pushes around some of her appetizer on the plate in front of her. “But…I have ideas.” Her gaze flies to Ryan as she hastily adds, “I’m not going to be burning the midnight oil or anything. I promise. I just…don’t want to get too far away from writing. You hear all these stories about new moms losing themselves, and I really don’t want that to be me.”

Ryan covers her hand with his. “Scarlett, it’s okay. It was your idea to take time off, remember? I’m here for whatever you need.”

She flashes him a half-smile, but her posture visibly relaxes. “Okay, good, because Trina and I had a brainstorming meeting, and she seems to think this book could be as good as my debut. I’m excited about it.”

I try not to visibly react to hearing Trina’s name. It’s not like she doesn’t come up occasionally given how small the publishing world is, but I haven’t seen or heard from her in over a year.

“How is Trina?” I ask, taking what I hope is a casual sip of my Coke.

“Good,” Scarlett says as she pops a piece of fried zucchini into her mouth. “She hasn’t pitched you anything recently?”

I shake my head, not trusting my words. I’d be lying if I said Trina’s avoidance didn’t sting, even though I understand why she doesn’t want to work with me. Frankly, when we ended things, I figured we’d take a little break from working together, but the fact that it has stretched on this long isn’t encouraging.

“Hmm, that’s weird.” Scarlett frowns.

Shrugging, I try to affect an air of indifference. “Maybe she doesn’t have anything she thinks I’d be a good fit for.”

“Maybe…” She says distractedly, her gaze following a passing car. “I actually don’t know what she’s sold the past few months. I try to stay out of it.”

“She hasn’t pitched anything to me, either,” Ryan adds.

That’s interesting. Trina used to be a powerhouse, which happens when your first author is a runaway bestseller like Scarlett was. I hope there isn’t anything troubling going on with her.

I suppose it’s possible that in avoiding me, she’s avoiding Anastasios altogether. That would be a shame.

Scarlett shrugs, seemingly unable to offer any more information, which is just as well because it’s none of my business.

At that moment, our pizza arrives. We pass around plates and grab slices. When Scarlett takes a bite, the moan she lets out is downright sensual. Ryan’s cheeks grow red, and he coughs into his hand.

“Sorry,” she offers, though she doesn’t sound like she means it. “I haven’t been able to stomach most things until recently, and when something tastes good, it tastes good.”

“Far be it from me to judge anyone enjoying their food,” I reassure her, then glance at Ryan. “Or anyone enjoying anyone enjoying their food.”

He balls up his napkin and throws it at me. It hits me square between the eyes, sending the entire table into a fit of laughter. It feels so good to laugh like this, like my chest is opening up somehow.

Once we’ve calmed down, Scarlett takes another slice and inhales that one too. She points at Ryan as she chews. “I’ll have you know, I’ll be ordering pizza delivery every single day while you’re in Denver.”

“As long as you’re eating, I don’t care,” he says. “Should I order food for you from my hotel?”