Ask Me (Mess with Me 2)

Thinking of her is getting me nowhere so I pull out the convertible sleeping bag coat I’ve been working on in my spare time.

By the time I look up the light has faded, my throat is dry and my head hurts. When I turn around Philippe is sitting on the sofa. It looks like he’s been there for quite some time.

“I was wondering how long it would take before you noticed I was here.” Philippe rises from the sofa. He looks at the coat. “You’ve made some changes to the design. I like it.”

“Casey said that the pockets should be flatter. So that things wouldn’t fall out.” Why does my voice sound so rusty?

“You know you never even told me about this project until after it was approved. Casey is the only one you told. Do you know why?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Because you trust her. Not something you do easily.”

“What’s the point? I’ve fucked up her life. She didn’t sign up to be trashed in the press. She’s an innocent, Philippe. She doesn’t know how to do this. The things they’re saying about her… How can I ask her to live like this?”

Philippe sighs. “I’m not saying it will be easy. But what I saw in those pictures wasn’t a woman looking at a meal ticket. She loves you. Isn’t that worth fighting for?”

When he leaves I wonder if he even knows the answer. Because I don’t. If my choices are keeping Casey with me and subjecting her to days like today, or letting her go, then I have no idea what to do.

For the next few days, I attempt to be patient. She’s hurting right now and probably trying to avoid anything that reminds her of me. But by Friday morning, I’m done. The last time we were apart this long I ravaged her in the bathroom, the reason for this whole mess.

I need to see her.

Every one of my calls has gone straight to voicemail. None of my texts have been answered. I haven’t gone to her apartment because I don’t want anyone to follow me there but I’m out of options.

Living under scrutiny as long as I have has taught me a thing or two about avoiding paparazzi notice. So I go to the Lavin Design office as if I’m just reporting for a day of work. Then I have Kate drive me to her apartment while I’m ducked down in the backseat.

“Okay, so I’ll wait here until you text me again. You know, just in case…”

“Just in case she tells me to go to hell? Thanks.”

Kate looks stricken. “Sorry boss.”

I climb out and walk straight to the building. By the time I get to the third floor, my palms are sweating. But I’m here so there’s no turning back now. I knock on the door and wait.

Ariana opens the door wearing nurse’s scrubs and eating a yogurt. “It took you long enough to get here.”

“Um, okay. Is Casey here?”

She rolls her eyes. “You know what, I was actually rooting for you. I kept telling her that you were going to show up, sweep her off her feet and prove that all that tabloid bullshit wasn’t worth crying over. But then a day goes by and then another. I’m actually disappointed in you.”

“You’re not the only one. I’m disappointed in myself. Please tell her that I love her and that I’m sorry. I’m trying to fix this.”

“Fix it? Everything can’t be fixed. Sometimes you’re just fucked. But don’t worry about Casey. I’m sure she’ll be fine. She’ll have a few drinks, hook up with her childhood sweetheart and then the next thing I know I’ll be getting a wedding invitation. That seems to be how things go with my roommates.”

The next thing I know the door is coming for my face. I have to step back or risk a broken nose.

“Well, that was helpful.”

Her words about Casey crying make me feel even worse. I thought I was protecting her by staying away but obviously that was the wrong move. Now she thinks I don’t care enough to fight for her which couldn’t be further from the truth.

But how am I supposed to fight for her when she won’t answer my calls or texts? I feel like the universe needs to help me get a clue because clearly I’m missing something.

Then I think about what Ariana said again. Like most people, she revealed more than she thought in her anger. Why would she bring up Casey spending time with her childhood sweetheart? That would only be possible in one place.

Her hometown.

She’s gone.

When I get back in the backseat of Kate’s car, she twists in the seat. “Oh no. You look worse. Did you see her?”

“No.”