“SARAH, WHERE is your curling iron?”
“I don’t have one. Why?
I walk out of the bathroom and into the den, where she is sitting watching some trashy reality TV.
“You don’t have a curling iron?”
“Just use the straightener to curl the ends under.”
“That won’t work! I was going for sexy wind-tousled curls.” I shake my head like a shampoo model.
“Oh good Lord. You are pregnant and going out on a date with your husband. Just don’t wear yoga pants and I think he will be impressed.”
“This is probably true, but I at least want to try and look nice. I’m going to run back to our place and grab mine. You need anything while I’m out?”
“Nope.” She looks up with a smile.
“Hey, I’m really glad you’re feeling better. I love having you home again.” I pause at the door and look at her just casually sitting on the couch.
She looks so peaceful, not at all like the woman I saw in the counselor’s office a few months ago. It’s a shame that it took her this long, but I feel like she is finally finding herself again.
“Yeah, me too,” she softly answers.
I race down the stairs, plotting how I can get in and out of the house without running into Caleb. I bought a cute long grey skirt and form-fitting pink shirt that fits over my big pregnant belly just for tonight. I don’t look great but I feel better than I have in a long time. I want to surprise him, not run into him half dressed in our hallway.
Thankfully, when I pull up to the house, his truck isn’t there. I’m digging through the bathroom cabinet, tying to be as sneaky as possible in case Caleb comes home, when my phone rings. I swear I must jump about ten feet in the air, because it scares me to death. I don’t even have a second to glance at the caller ID before I’m pulling it to my ear.
“Hello.”
“I want to see her,” I hear Casey’s broken voice say on the other end of the line.
“Who? Are you okay?”
“Sarah,” she answers shortly.
“Well she’s home this weekend. Maybe I can talk to her and get back to you to set up a time—”
She interrupts. “No, I mean today.”
“Shit, Casey. I don’t know. I need to talk it over with her first. She’s doing really well, but I don’t want to set her off—”
“Call her. Tell her I miss her and I want to see her.”
“Casey—” I start, only to be interrupted yet again.
“Please, Emma. I’m begging you.” Her voice breaks.
“Yeah, okay. Let me talk it over with Sarah. I’ll call you back.”
“Make sure you tell her I miss her. And call her Danika. Promise you’ll do that,” she says urgently.
“Yeah, of course. I promise.” I quickly say goodbye and hang up.
I make my way to the den and flop down on the couch, wondering if this is a smart move at all. Sarah is doing so well, and Casey sounds desperate to rekindle something. This could definitely send Sarah into an ‘I’m not the same person’ tailspin. This has emotional breakdown written all over it.
But on the other hand, it would do Sarah some good to have some friends. She needs to be surrounded by people who love her, and that isn’t just limited to me. I sigh to myself and pick up my phone. This should be her decision, not mine. I said from the beginning that I wasn’t going to try to fix her. She is a grown woman who can make her own choices.
“Are you having another curling iron emergency?” she says jokingly when she answers the phone.
“No, Casey Black just called and she wants to see you…today,” I blurt out. I mean, really. What’s the point in sugarcoating it?
“Why?” she asks with an icy chill to her voice.
“Because, Danika, she says she misses you.”
After I relay Casey’s message, I fully expect Sarah to burst into tears from hearing whatever inside joke I just reminded her of. Instead, she starts quietly laughing.
“What do you think?”
I have to admit that this is the most shocking moment of the last five minutes. She asked for my advice.
“Are you asking what I think? Seriously?” I say in shock and disbelief.
“Ha. Ha. Seriously. You knew me before, and you know me now. Do you think Casey would be receptive to the changes?”
“Sarah, I love you. But I have to say it. Your tastes have changed, you don’t drink anymore, and you have different hobbies. I’m not trying to minimize your changes, but deep down, you are the same Sarah Kate Erickson you have always been. Only now, you aren’t stricken with grief and self-loathing. So dare I say this is the best Sarah Kate you have been in years?” I pause to allow her time to yell at me or argue with me, but it never comes.