Casey: Still up, you can call
Casey: Why'd you say happy birthday again? I said I wanted to hear it in person
Casey: Paul?
I stared at those three messages, sat up straight, and rapidly ran through every possible response in my head. Then dialed.
"Hey," she answered fast. Voice didn't sound like she'd been asleep. Like she hadn't slept at all. "What are you planning to explain?"
"Tonight," I said. "Not the explanation I gave. The real one."
Silence for two seconds. "I'm listening."
"The family business has problems," I said. "Big problems. They need me to handle it. Elizabeth's my stepmother. She called tonight because there's a meeting tomorrow. Important. Time-sensitive."
"Okay," she said. "Thanks for telling me."
That "thanks for telling me" came out way calmer than I expected. So calm it made me uneasy. "Casey, are you okay?"
"I'm thinking about something," she said, voice carrying no emotion. Like talking to herself.
"We've been together all this time. I've never met anyone from your family. Never been to that place of yours down south. I don't know your stepmother's name. I don't know your father's name. When I saw 'Elizabeth' tonight, you know what my first thought was?"
"What?"
"I didn't know who it was," she said. "Your boyfriend gets a call, you look at the name, and you have no fucking idea who it is. Paul, does that seem normal to you?"
I didn't answer.
Because it wasn't. Not at all normal. Hard to argue with that.
"I'm not accusing you," she continued. "I'm stating a fact. I don't know who's in your life because you've never told me."
"I know," I said, hearing my voice go hoarse. "That's on me, Casey. Not you. I—"
"Paul," she interrupted, voice suddenly softer.
"Tomorrow's my birthday. Come see me after your meeting. We'll go to that French place. You'll tell me happy birthday in person. You'll tell me you're ready for me to meet the people in your life. That can be my birthday present. Nothing else. Is that too much to ask?"
I closed my eyes, replayed that sentence in my head.
Tomorrow, three o'clock. Four Seasons. Diana Rossi.
"No," I heard myself say, voice calmer than I expected. "I'll see you tomorrow, Casey. Happy birthday."
"Has to be in person. Saying it now doesn't count."
"I'll say it tomorrow. In person."
"Good," she said. Brief silence. "Paul, get some sleep. Don't overthink it."
The call ended.
I set the phone on the desk and stared at the contract's cover. That gleaming gold logo.
Then a voice in my head said:
What did you just promise her, Paul? What did you just promise?
