Your Perfect Life by Liz Fenton Page A

cared about you, you know.”
    “You really think he cared about me?”
    “Yes. Why is that so hard for you to believe?”
    So did Casey get scared? She’d never had a real relationship and there must be a reason for that. Could she be choosing these twenty-somethings because she knows these flings will never lead to something more serious? I’d always wondered that, but she’d used the excuse that she was too busy with her career to have a relationship and I’d chosen to believe her. It was just easier that way. “Man candy is easier and sweeter,” she’d said.
    “So are you opening this door? Are you finally ready to tell me what happened? Because when I found you crying thatnight you blew up at me and refused to talk about it,” Destiny says, slurring her words. She wasn’t kidding about the drink knocking her on her ass.
    Not sure what to say, I just nod and let her keep talking.
    “What I never understood was why you dropped him so quickly and refused to talk to him again. It was like one day everything was great and the next, it was over.”
    “I don’t know why I did that,” I say, telling the truth for the first time tonight.
    “I never told you this, but he came to me after you ended it,” Destiny says quietly.
    “He did? What did he say?”
    “He said he couldn’t tell me what happened because you’d sworn him to secrecy, but he wanted me to make sure you were okay. He told me to let him know if you needed anything. But not to tell you that we’d talked. And that didn’t surprise me. Even after he was hurt, he was still looking out for you.”
    I shake my head, wondering what happened between them.
    “The thing is I always thought . . .”
    “Always thought what?”
    “That you’d end up together.”

CHAPTER 13
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casey
    “And that’s our show. Good night from GossipTV !” My voice rings through the bedroom and I grab the remote to turn off the DVR. Rachel’s getting better each episode. This time, she didn’t even look like she was reading the TelePrompTer. In a designer wrap dress and four-inch stiletto boots, she might look like me, but she’s definitely better than me at faking that Dean isn’t the most arrogant asshole who ever lived.
    “Your mama’s doing a great job!” I say to Charlotte, who’s playing with a tub of blocks I dumped out for her so I could get ready to have lunch with Rachel today. I can’t wait to surprise her with her new look. It’s not a huge departure from what she had, just a few highlights and a much-needed trim, giving her hair a shininess to it that it hadn’t had in a while. It turns out the back of her closet is where all the cute clothes are stashed. Just because I’m wearing Old Navy instead of Tory Burch doesn’t mean I need to look frumpy. I discovered a few sassy sundresses, some leggings, and even a great pair of boots. Notthat I didn’t like her uniform of empire-waist shirts and cargo pants, but a girl needs some variety in her life.
    I also need to talk to Rachel about Sophie. Every day she seems more and more withdrawn. John and I talked about it more last night and decided that we both needed to keep a much closer eye on her. And even though Rachel seemed to prefer keeping John in the dark about whatever’s going on, I’m relieved to have his help. I’m certain she’s not going to be thrilled that I called him, but it sure seemed to wake Sophie up. She was on her best behavior this morning, getting out of bed without me having to pull the purple comforter off her like I usually do, frantically trying to raise her from the dead. One morning, I even grabbed one of Charlotte’s annoying musical drums and played it next to her ear until she finally raised her head. Teenagers .
    I’ve gotten less sleep the last few weeks than I ever have—including back when I pulled all-nighters as a production assistant. That level of exhaustion was nothing compared to this. But I could finally feel myself adjusting, no longer waking