Your Perfect Life: A Novel

by Liz Fenton

  “Hey,” I hear John whisper from the doorway.

  I put a finger to my lips and tiptoe into the hall. “Hey.” I glance at my watch and shut Charlotte’s door behind me. “You’re home early.”

  “I am,” he says, a sly smile on his face as he tries to hide a box behind his back

  “Um, what’s going on?” I reach behind him and grab the box. “What’s this?”

  “That,” he says pointing to it, “is what you’re wearing tonight. Audrey’s going to watch the kids. Get dressed, I’m taking you out!”

  “Are you serious?” I squeal. I hadn’t been out, well, since I was Casey. The thought of a Belvedere and soda makes my mouth water.

  “You deserve a night out. Now go put this on,” he says, pushing me toward the bedroom.

  I shut the door behind me, hoping he doesn’t follow. I have no idea what I’d do if he picked this moment to want to watch me undress. Even though it’s not my own body, it would just be awkward. I glance nervously at the door as I shake the box, equally scared to discover what might be inside. John always dressed well, but he wasn’t exactly someone I would want choosing my outfit, especially when I hadn’t had a proper night out in weeks. I pull away the paper apprehensively and find an exquisite black silk dress and oversized hoop earrings. It’s simple and sexy all at the same time. Well done, John! I set the box down on the bed and stare at Rachel’s reflection in the mirror, touched by John’s sweet gesture. He’d always been thoughtful; it was one of the things I’d always loved about him. Getting up early and running out to get coffee when we all woke up hung-over in college, and after Rachel found out she was pregnant with Audrey, making late-night trips to satisfy her every craving, never complaining when he gained ten pounds himself from indulging in all the late night snacks she demanded. That was the John I knew and loved.

  I take my time getting ready, cherishing this rare time alone. I used to take time for granted, and now I realize Rachel doesn’t get much of it to herself. As I slip on the black dress, I also can’t help but wonder how Rachel will feel about her husband taking me on a date. And was John expecting some kind of gift in return? He may have given me my space while I was getting dressed (thankfully!), but would he later tonight when I was undressing?

  I wondered if Rachel and Charlie were sharing a suite in New York. I’ve never taken her for the cheating type, but these weren’t exactly normal circumstances. Was it still cheating if she did it as me? And would the betrayal sting as much?

  I smooth my dress one more time before heading downstairs where John is giving Audrey strict instructions for tonight. “Mom!” Audrey’s eyes widen. “You look amazing!”

  “Thank you,” I say, hugging her tightly. “Your dad bought it for me.”

  She fingers the soft fabric then high-fives her dad. “Nice job.”

  John blushes and I’m struck by how cute he looks.

  “I do manage to get a few things right here and there,” he says as he grabs my hand. My heart skips a beat, involuntarily. “Are you ready for some fun?” he asks.

  I think of Charlie and Rachel, imagining them drinking champagne somewhere in New York. “You have no idea!”

  CHAPTER 22

  * * *

  rachel

  As I pull the down comforter around me, I’m surprised by how good it feels to be back in Casey’s bed. To not wish even for a second that I was in my own with John. Charlie and I returned from New York earlier this afternoon, and although we shared a car service from the airport and he’d not so subtly hinted at wanting to come over (his hand planted firmly on my upper thigh the entire ride home), I’d feigned exhaustion and promised to call him later.

  As the driver pulled my bags out of the trunk and Charlie stood awkwardly on the curb, I’d wanted more than anything to invite him in, but that damn little voice inside my head warned me that it would be a very bad idea. That annoying little voice that has been constantly reminding me that I’m not the real Casey Lee. That I’m not, as the real Casey had so harshly pointed out, the one Charlie’s falling for. But what if the voice is wrong? If Casey’s wrong? What if I am the one he’s falling for? Sure, it’s not my body, but it’s my personality, my mind, and my humor. Isn’t it?

  We’d had an amazing time in New York—professionally and personally. The interview with Daisy McKnight was even better than the one with her husband. Even though there were five cameras and a dozen staff and crew surrounding us, it felt like we were just two girlfriends talking. I abandoned my blue cards midway through and she’d opened up about everything—even things she’d said originally would have to be off the record, like her suspicion there were several other women. And in the last few minutes of the interview, I took a risk. I asked her to call Ryan on camera. And if he answered, to tell him how she felt. And she’d agreed without hesitation, pulling out her bedazzled iPhone. I held my breath as the phone rang and looked at the staff and crew, all leaning in, looking like vultures circling a carcass as they waited to get the shot, the sound bite, whatever was needed to make this interview a hit. Of course we’d needed to handle some technical housekeeping before we could roll tape on the call. An audio guy had to hook Daisy’s cell to a microphone so we could hear Ryan’s end of the conversation. And Ryan had to give a verbal release for his interview to be used on camera after he’d answered. To our surprise, he did. But even after all that, the conversation between them was emotional and heartbreaking and raw.

  I’d scanned the room for Charlie, as Ryan and Daisy cried together and Ryan apologized. When I’d found him, our eyes locked and I knew he was thinking what I was thinking. This was it. The career-changing moment that would open more doors than I ever thought possible. But I could also tell that he was looking not at the Casey Lee everyone else saw, the one whose face was plastered with foundation and eyes were heavy with multiple layers of false eyelashes, but the Casey who couldn’t wait to wash her face, throw on a pair of sweats, and knock back a couple of cocktails and scream to the rooftops, I’ve arrived! I may be pushing forty, but dammit, I’ve arrived! But then there was that little detail about not really being Casey Lee, and unless I wanted to stay in Casey’s body permanently (was that even an option?) this was not my career-changing moment, this was not my unspoken moment with a cute and sweet man across the room, this was not my life.

  When the interview was over, Daisy whispered to me off camera that she and Ryan would give me the exclusive on their first sit-down interview together. I was intoxicated with pride after everyone—even Dean through his gritted veneers—complimented me. Well, if you didn’t suck counts as praise.

  But the best accolades came from Charlie. He’d pulled me aside and told me that I’d never been better and should be very proud. Then he’d kissed me on the cheek and I felt my knees start to buckle under me, wondering if a kiss on the cheek could do that, what could a kiss on the lips do? Then he whisked me off to dinner and drinks and before I knew it, it was time to fly home. He stood in the hall outside my hotel room and I knew he wanted to come inside. But I’d made an excuse then just like I had today. I’d told him I still had to pack before the flight. He’d simply taken his finger and ran it down the length of my arm and said, “Rain check, then.” When I got inside my room and stared at the suitcase I knew Destiny had already packed for me, I hated that I’d told a lie. But he’d never understand the truth: that I was married; that I had three daughters; that I was living someone else’s life.

  The sound of the doorbell pulls me out of my reverie. I put on a silk robe from a chair beside Casey’s bed and head toward the front door. When I peer out the peephole, Charlie is standing there with a cat-who-ate-the-canary look on his face. I pull the door open only far enough to see him through the chain.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey,” he mimics. “So you gonna let me in or what? I have big, make that huge, news.”

  I debate asking him to tell me through the chain, but think better of it. If he’s making a house call, it must be importa
nt. I pull the tie around my silk robe tighter.

  “Give me a second.”

  “Um, okay, you know where to find me,” he says and laughs as I close the door on him.

  I hurry into the bedroom, throw on a sweat suit, run into the bathroom and rub toothpaste across my teeth, and fling the front door open. “Sorry about that. The place was a mess,” I say, thinking Casey’s housekeeper comes so often I barely have time to mess it up.

  “You missed a spot.” He runs his finger over the dust-free table.

  I grab a pillow off the couch and swat him with it. “Whatever, just give me the news already.”

  “Sure you don’t want to organize your closets first or clean out the refrigerator or something?”

  “Tell me!”

  “Are you sitting down?” he says with a chuckle.

  I look down at my feet planted firmly on the floor. “Should I be?”

  “Uh, yes, for sure.”

  I lower myself onto the couch slowly, starting to have a pretty good idea where this conversation is going, but suddenly I’m not at all sure I want to hear the news. Not because it won’t be good, but because it won’t be mine.

  Charlie watches my face change. “It’s good, you know.”

  “I know.” I force a smile. “Okay, lay it on me.”

  “The New York executives are so excited about the buzz the show is getting from the promo clips of the Daisy and Ryan phone call we fed out last night that they’re coming to L.A. to meet with you.”

  I consider the news. So it’s happening. They’re going to offer me, well, Casey Lee her own show in New York. The only question is, what am I going to say?

  “Casey. Hello?” Charlie waves his hand in front of my face. “You know what this means, right?”

  “I think so . . .” I bite my lower lip, fighting back the tears. Suddenly remembering, of all things, my college graduation. I was so pregnant that I could barely walk, but I’d insisted on going to the ceremony. I needed to see Casey accept her diploma. To see John get his. I needed the fact that I didn’t graduate to be real. As I’d watched Casey fling her graduation cap in the air and hug John tightly, I’d rubbed my stomach, feeling incredibly sad and jealous and also incredibly happy all at the same time. It was exactly how I felt now.

  “I thought you’d be excited. I thought this is what you wanted.”

  “This is what I wanted.” I just didn’t realize it until it was twenty years too late.

  “Then why don’t I believe you?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Try me.”

  “I can’t. You don’t know how badly I wish I could explain it to you . . . all of it. But you’d never understand. Never in a million years.”

  “Come on.” He sits on the couch next to me, so close that I can smell his scent, which has driven me crazy the past few days. It makes me want to grab him and bury my nose in his neck and inhale deeply.

  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.”

  He hands the keys to the valet and comes around to help me out of the car. “Don’t worry. There’s an amazing bar on the roof. I thought you might like to watch the sunset with me.”

  I exhale deeply and smile. “I would love that,” I answer as he grabs my hand and takes me into the lobby and up the winding staircase that leads us to a beautiful rooftop patio. John gives them our names and the server shows us to the best table and removes the RESERVED sign. “Wow,” is all I can say as I take in the panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean and the palm trees swaying in the slight breeze, the sun sparkling on the water below us. “This is gorgeous!”
Something about getting out of L.A., down to the more easygoing pace of Orange County, is so refreshing. Sure, I had been to a ton of beautiful places in Malibu and Santa Monica, but I still had to be “on.” Whether at a party or a shoot for Gossip TV, I always had to work my ass off at those things, schmoozing and kissing the asses of people I could barely stand to be around. All, except of course, Destiny and Charlie. But I don’t want to think about Charlie right now. I grab John’s hand. “Thanks. This is perfect.”

  The server sets our drinks down and we toast the wonderful view. John asks me if I’d ever consider living down here and I tell him I’m not sure. The thought of having Rachel and the kids this far away from me makes me uncomfortable. I sip my drink slowly as Rachel would. John had looked at me funny when I ordered a Belvedere and soda, probably remembering the reunion and how belligerent Rachel got. It was obvious that night that she usually didn’t drink that much. But now, after living her life, I understood why. So much effort went into making sure the kids were taken care of that I almost didn’t blame her if she was too tired to go out, too tired to devote much energy to anything, even John.

  I think back to the John and Rachel I knew in high school and in college, the way they lit up when the other was around. The three of us were inseparable, except for the temporary boyfriends that would flit in and out of my life. I was so picky, Rachel would constantly tell me. But the truth was that I wanted what they had and wasn’t willing to compromise until I found it. As I look at John smooth-talking the pretty blond server into moving the heater closer to our table, I realize that I’m still looking for it. And I can’t quite understand why Rachel and John just let it slip out of their fingers so easily.

  “So, Audrey’s really been on cloud nine all week,” he says when he turns back to me.

  “I know, right? It’s like she’s a completely different person,” I say, smiling to myself and for a split second considering that maybe she’s switched bodies with one of her happier, nicer friends. “What do you think of Chris?” I ask, still feeling a nagging bad vibe.