“We have to find him. It can’t be that hard,” I say, thinking that if I can track down tickets to a sold-out Selena Gomez concert, I can find him.
“At least we know his name is Brian,” Casey says excitedly.
“Do you think that’s his real name?” I wonder aloud.
“Bartender with magical powers or not, I know his type. He definitely gave John his real name. He wants us to find him. I can tell he gets off on all this.” Casey heads toward the door. “Come on, let’s go get our bartender!”
“Wait. So how did you get out of the house? Where did you tell John you were going?”
“I just told him the truth, that I needed to come over here and talk to you about last night.”
“And he was fine with that?” I ask.
“Well, I didn’t exactly ask him. Was I supposed to get his permission?”
“No. But Audrey needs help with her science project and Sophie has a book report due.”
“And why can’t John can’t handle that stuff again?”
I exhale, not sure how to explain to her that I’m the reason he’s so reluctant to help. That I’ve corrected him and nitpicked at him so much over the years about “the right way” to do this or that, that somewhere along the line he stopped offering and I stopped asking. I thought things might be different with Charlotte, but John checked out the second I challenged his arm placement while he was trying to burp her in the hospital room. But it wasn’t me there now. It was Casey, someone who had a good heart, but also didn’t know the first thing about being married with kids. “You have to understand, John goes to work every day so that I can stay home. And those things are my—now your—job,” I say, rationalizing, even though I’m not sure how much I believe that. “So, you are going to have to suck it up, sister.” I smile sweetly to take the sting off my words.
Casey snorts. “I’m not sure why your job is 24/7 and he’s working bankers’ hours.” She looks away before asking in a small voice, “What if I can’t do this?”
“You’ll be fine. It’s not that hard!” I lie, thinking of how exhausted I am most days. “If we’re still like this tomorrow morning, and let’s pray that we’re not, here’s what you need to know: don’t let Sophie wear a short skirt to school. She’ll try, she’ll even fight you on it. But stand your ground. If you can, check her backpack. I caught her taking a change of clothes and some makeup to school last week. Audrey’s moody. She usually wants very little to do with me. And don’t give the baby any dairy. It gives her diarrhea.”
“Gross.” Casey frowns in disgust.
“Rule number one, you cannot be grossed out by baby shit or baby puke. It will give you away immediately . . .” She thinks for a moment. “This is going to be so hard being away from them. I miss them already.”
“You even miss the shit?”
“Yes, I even miss the shit.”
“You wouldn’t have missed the shit this morning,” she laughs. “You’re going to have to give me some very detailed instructions on how to be you. I don’t even know what to feed your baby.” Fear washes over Casey’s face.
“Don’t worry, okay? For now, just go home and take care of them.” I bite back the tears, my own fears taking hold. For a moment, we’re frozen, both considering what it means to fake another person’s life.
Casey breaks the silence. “Well, you’d better get your, I mean my, ass over to the hotel and find Brian. I’ll head back to your house and try to remember something from my high school science class so I can help Audrey. Thank God for Google.” She puts her hand on the doorknob but swivels around quickly. “Wait, what do I do when John tries to kiss me?”
“Don’t worry. There’s no chance in hell that will happen.”
She looks at me, confused. Then she shrugs and leaves.
? ? ?
When I arrive at the hotel, I catch several people staring at me. What are they looking at? Then I remember I’m not me. I’m Casey Lee. Just twenty-four hours ago, I was cleaning spit up off my sweatshirt and now I’m a celebrity with a flat stomach in size two designer jeans.