He jerks like I’ve slapped him. His expression hardens, and he lurches away from me. My heart trills in panic.
“Wow,” he rasps. “It’s never going to be me, is it?”
“What? No.” I reach for him, but he backs away.
“Even when you’re kissing me, you’re thinking about him. I’ll never be able to compete with a dream, will I?”
“Perry, no. That’s not what I meant…”
But he’s already walking away. He glances briefly to his left, and whatever he sees makes him pause. But the next heartbeat he’s moving again. I run after him. “Please, wait!”
“Cass?” Devin’s voice makes me stop so fast I nearly trip. He’s standing at the corner on the opposite sidewalk, staring at me. His mouth is open, his face a mask of shock. My stomach bottoms out.
He saw us. He saw everything.
I crane my neck, looking for Perry, but he’s disappeared into the crowd. As much as I want to chase after him and make him understand, the explanation I owe Devin is long overdue. And after what he just witnessed, I owe him the truth. Now more than ever. Blowing out a shaky breath, I force my feet to carry me across the street.
But before I reach him, Mercedes rounds the corner. Pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head, she jogs over to where I’m standing in the street and grips my shoulder. “Hey, I’ve been looking all over for you. Andréa and Frank are worried. Are you o—？”
Devin steps hesitantly off the sidewalk. “Sadie?” he blurts.
Mercedes whirls, and her face goes stark white. “Devin.”
Wait… what? Mercedes is Sadie? The Sadie? The nickname makes sense, but I can’t quite process the possibility that I’ve been working all summer alongside Devin’s pregnancy-faking, manipulative ex.
He steps back, every muscle tense. “What the hell are you doing here?” His voice is low and dangerous.
They face each other on the sidewalk, wearing twin expressions of disgust. I look from Mercedes to Devin and back again.
The back of my neck tingles. The tingle intensifies until it burns like I’m on fire. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen them together. Present blurs with past. Images float through my memories—my real memories—along with strains of music. The scene before me shifts and flickers. Dim lighting. Crowded tables. Devin and Mercedes.
My vision goes fuzzy. I stumble forward and my knees connect with the sidewalk—hard.
I remember.
I remember everything.
When I walk out of the bar exam testing center, I don’t feel happy, relieved, or anything, really. I’m sure I passed—I know in my bones I knocked it out of the park—but there’s only a dull heaviness left.
I don’t feel like making the two-hour drive home to Cleveland yet, so I spend the afternoon exploring the Short North district of downtown Columbus, drifting from one little art gallery to the next until blisters threaten to form on my feet and my stomach protests at its emptiness. I spot a little restaurant—Italian, I think. It’s close, I’m hungry, I go in.
The host gives me a pitying look when he seats me, as though a young woman eating alone is a travesty. I ignore him. My head is too full of other doubts to care. He seats me at one of the small, two-person tables crowded together along the back of the restaurant. A few minutes later a server arrives, and I place my order. As soon as he leaves, the ruminations start churning again.
It’s like I’ve run a marathon and finally crossed the finish line only to realize there’s nothing else on the horizon. What do you do with your life when your only goals have been to graduate from law school, pass the bar, and land a job at a high-profile firm… and you achieve all of those goals by the age of twenty-five?
My job as a first-year associate at Smith & Boone starts a few short weeks from now. What will the next twenty or thirty years of my life look like, I wonder.
I imagine slaving away in an office, working evenings and weekends until I finally make partner at age… who knows? Will my career leave me time for family? Friends? Art? Or will my life be the job: the single, overarching trait that defines my existence?
Mom would say it doesn’t matter. I can fill in the gaps with the things I love, and as a successful attorney at a top firm, I’ll have the financial security to do it.
But will it be enough?
Emptiness creeps through me until I’m so hollow you could ring me like a bell. Gazing out across the crowded restaurant, I’ve never felt so alone.