2. Casey #2
Scarlett and I aren’t close. I knew of her when I was at JMP and she had signed with them—but everyone knew of her, so that’s not saying much.
Ryan and I became friends when we were both working there as well, but Scarlett had spent so much time away on book tours and then she was gone before I could really get to know her.
It took me a couple of years after that to persuade Ryan to make the move over to Anastasios, and by then he was a sad shell of his former self.
And when Ryan was asked not to edit more of her work, her next manuscript was transferred to a different editor at the press, since I didn’t really have time for it anyway.
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?”
She rolls her eyes dramatically. “It’s been at least six months since I’ve forgotten to feed myself, thank you very much.”
“Why are you going to Denver?” I ask around my own mouthful.
Ryan gapes at me as if I’m asking a stupid question. “The Writers and Agents Conference next month? Anastasios sent out a memo looking for people who wanted to go, and when no one responded, he personally asked me.” He raises an eyebrow.
I must have deleted that email without looking at it because I don’t remember it at all. “Do you want to go?”
Now it’s his turn to push food around on his plate and avoid eye contact. “At the time, I didn’t mind, but that was before we found out Scarlett is pregnant…”
“I’ll be fine,” she says softly, her voice devoid of any of its normal bite.
“I know,” he says quickly. “And it’s only three days, Thursday through Saturday. It’s not like it’s three weeks.”
You’d have to be completely ignorant not to notice the way his eyes pinch with concern as he looks at her.
Frankly, I can’t blame him. Scarlett experienced some major depression while she was recovering from burnout.
When they talk about her forgetting to feed herself, it’s not a joke.
And I can only imagine how much more concerned he is now that she’s pregnant.
Suddenly, my chest feels tight. I rub at it to try to ease the sensation, but it’s no use.
I should have read my email, and I should have been the one to volunteer to go.
Anastasios likely asked Ryan because he’s still atoning for not immediately disclosing his relationship with Scarlett a year ago, but I could have jumped in and saved him the trouble.
Given how little I’ve been out of my office these past few months, a break might be nice. It’s not like I have much keeping me here, except my brother. But if I’m only gone until Saturday, I can be back in plenty of time to see him Sunday morning, as always.
“Why don’t I go instead?” The words are out of my mouth before I can overthink it.
Ryan’s eyes go wide with hope, but Scarlett regards me warily.
“Do you want to go?” she asks.
I shrug. “I don’t not want to go. I must have missed the email.”
She raises an eyebrow at me. “Don’t do this because of me. I’m fine.” She directs the last part to Ryan, who has the good sense to look at least a little sheepish.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I tease. “I hear Denver is beautiful in the summer. And besides, sitting in pitch sessions is always educational and enlightening.”
“Said no editor ever,” Ryan mumbles.
“Do you want me to go or not?” I ask, trying to hide my laughter, because he’s absolutely right. Pitch sessions are the worst.
He looks at Scarlett for a moment, but her face is unreadable. Eventually, he sighs. “I really don’t want to go,” he admits.
“Okay then. I’ll let Anastasios know on Monday. I’m sure it won’t be a problem to swap me in for you.”
Ryan grins at me, and it’s impossible not to see the relief written all over Scarlett’s features. I may not know her very well, but I do know that she puts up a tough front even when she’s feeling vulnerable. Maybe especially then.
A little nugget of pride overtakes the guilt and jealousy I’ve been fighting all evening. It feels good to help my friends out. Hell, it feels good to have friends to help out in the first place.
I could get used to feeling this way.