Hello, all! Hope everyone had a lovely week! Here we go again!

Disclaimer: Still own nothing. But I did do my own taxes!

Every little girl knows exactly how her life is going to progress by the age of twelve. Casey knew where she wanted to live, what she wanted to do, and even what kind of flowers she wanted in her back-yard. She had binders of magazine pictures, yard maintenance articles, fabric swatches, and sample paint cards categorized and labeled. She knew precisely how she wanted her house to look, feel, and smell. She loved to plan. She calculated everything out; even retirement (Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, USA).

But not one magazine clipping, not one article showed two women, standing in the middle of a parking lot in Ottowa, one with hostile posture, blatantly angry, and the other with wide-eyed panic enveloping her entire form. Because magazine people were never blatantly attacked with eight years worth of guilt on their day off. They smiled (or grimaced, like in headache ads) and carried on perfectly blissful paper lives in two-dimensional perfection.

Unfortunately, Casey was very aware of the way Emily was looking at her; she'd worn a similar one this morning when—Emily's eye's narrowed. Casey winced. She wasn't going to get out of this easily. Emily's foot tapped, expectantly.

If Casey were a better liar, or really, any type of liar, she could brush it off as costume jewelry or some family heirloom that only fit that particular finger. Not that Emily would fall for that, even from an expert. And in any case, Casey's whole demeanor had changed at Emily's accusation; she sucked in a breath and froze. Which was the universal sign for "I am guilty."

"Yeah," she managed, swallowing hard. "I am." Emily arched an eyebrow. Her voice was too calm and made Casey's reply sound shakier than it had coming out.

"And you didn't tell me." It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact. Casey bit the inside of her cheek. "What the hell, Casey?" Emily's hands flew to her hips. "Are you joking? Is this a really bad prank? Because it's not funny, and I'm actually a little offended."

Casey was taken slightly aback. "Offended? Why are you offended that—"

"We used to be friends, Case! You were like my sister!" Casey began to protest that they still were friends, but Emily didn't let her. "I've told you every, single, minute detail of my extremely boring life—"

"—minus the parts where you've moved in with your fiancée in St. Catherines—" Emily ignored her and carried on as if Casey hadn't spoken.

"—and you've gotten married and have been living this secret married life and didn't tell anyone—" Emily interrupted herself this time, sucking in a huge, loud breath, "Huuu! Casey, do your parents know you're married?" The serious look on her face and her stage whisper made Casey laugh. It wasn't intentional, and she realized how rude it is to be laughing in someone's face when she is already mad.

"Of course they do, Em. They know."

"Then whyyyyy didn't you teeeeeelll meeeeeeeee?" Emily whined, stomping her foot.

"I didn't really tell anyone, Em. It wasn't like I didn't tell you on purpose, and I never lied about being not married," Emily scoffed. "But I really didn't even think about it."

That was a lie. She thought about it all the time. She worried about what Emily would think of her, what everyone else thought of her. She thought about careful ways to weave her personal life out of context when she wrote to Emily. It was a constant worry, but, truthfully, she'd never thought of what she would tell her friend when this façade eventually collapsed.

"Yeah, right." Emily didn't buy it anymore than Casey did. "I refuse to believe that you didn't think about it. You're Casey, remember? You're addicted to thinking." Casey nodded in consent. That was absolutely true.

Which may have been a reason she hadn't told Emily. It had been irrational to get married like that. There was no planning, no pictures, nothing how Casey had imagined a wedding to go. And that was a little embarrassing. Casey McDonald? Not plan every detail? No way! She didn't want to remember how unnerving it had been to stand there in that tiny crowded room, sweating from the heat and her nerves.

"So, why do you hate me so much?" Emily's voice interrupted Casey's memeory. She started for a minute. Where did she get that idea?

"I don't hate you at all! Oh, God, it was a stupid decision that I made years ago that I just haven't reversed and—" Emily held up a hand to interrupt her.

"Years? YEARS? Holy hell, Casey, how long? When did you start your little web of delusions?" Casey flinched. That wasn't a very nice thing to say.

"Ouch," Casey blinked a couple of times trying to shake off Emily's comment. "I—we got married in '17?"

"Three years ago? Jesus Christ! That's a long time to lie."

"Hey! I didn't lie!"

"You're doing it right now, Casey. You're lying to yourself that this isn't a lie!" Emily was pissed. True, in all the years that they had been friends, Casey had told Emily just about everything. But they'd gone to university. And then began work in different cities. And just grew apart a little.

"It's not," Casey mumbled, quietly. Emily just looked at her, blankly, and Casey looked at her sneakers briefly. "Listen, Em, I know you're upset; I know I would be, too. But, I know you were supposed to meet Steven—"

"He can wait."

"—and I don't think I could explain what happened well enough in a parking lot." Casey took Emily's hand. "It was never, ever personal, Em. I just didn't want to cause trouble. And, for some reason, I'm really good at doing just that. I am so sorry."

Emily licked her lips and sighed, pulling her hand out of Casey's. "Fine. Don't explain here." She dug around in her own purse. "But you will explain why you cut me out." Casey wanted to scream at that; how many times did she have to tell Emily that it wasn't about her? "What happened to you that we couldn't be best friends who share everything?"

"Nothing like that, Emily, it just got," Casey sighed and ran a shaky hand through her bangs, "complicated."

"Complicated is your middle name, Casey," Emily said, smiling warmly for the first time since Casey's hand had come out of her pocket.

"I know, but I didn't want to screw up something that was so not supposed to happen and just fell together." She said all of this in a rush, hoping Emily would accept that answer. No such luck, given the puzzled look Emily sent back to her.

"I'm not following," she said, her eyebrows furrowed.

"I'll explain, Em, just," she gestured around, "not in a parking lot."

"Too fancy?" Emily asked, sarcastically nodding along. Casey shook her head.

"It's not a fast story, Em, and I don't fancy standing here in the dark and rain to relay it to you."

"Okay, fine. When do you "fancy" telling me? Or are you just going to disappear again?"

"I didn't disappear!" Casey sighed and looked at her watch. She needed to get home or dinner would never be ready. "Let's go for coffee, okay? Tomorrow?"

"Fine," Emily said, pushing her hair off of her forehead. Casey sighed in relief. The two exchanged phone numbers and made to part ways.

"Just one last thing, Case," Emily said, almost quietly.

"Hmm?"

"Who is he?"

"What?"

"Who's your husband, Case? Who is he?"

"Really, Em, let's talk tomorrow."

"My parent's didn't know, no one I talked to has said anything, you didn't tell me, Marti didn't tell Dimi—or else I'll have to kill him for not telling me—oh, my God." Emily looked up at Casey then, a weird spark in her eye. "It's someone I know." Her look was triumphant.

"What?" Casey's question came out like more of a squeak than it was supposed to .

"Ha!" She jabbed a finger in Casey's direction. "I knew it! It's someone I know! Who is he, Casey? Tell me!"

Casey swallowed. Here goes nothing.

There's this cool little link somewhere down here that let's me know what you think... In case anyone is interested! :)