But I’m not the hero of this story. I think that’s what Casey was getting at with his little “be an editor” exercise. The hero would learn from the past. If yesterday is any indication, I haven’t learned shit. Instead of being different this time, I tried to convince her that things outside of our control would be different. And she was right. They won’t. Not really. Not in any important way. Not in the way she needs.

I try to call her when I wake up, but she doesn’t answer. If I didn’t have to go into the office, I’d stand outside of her apartment with a boombox over my head, blasting love songs until she came outside to me. But I’m on thin ice as it is, so I head to work.

“Hello,” Margie singsongs as I walk into my office. “Your phone rang a few times this morning.”

Glancing at the clock on the wall, I frown. “It’s only just after nine.”

She shrugs. “All I know is that it was ringing. I don’t think anyone left any messages, though.”

The voicemail light isn’t on, so she’s right. Strange. I don’t know very many people who would call my office line before nine, and certainly no one who would do that and not leave a message. Maybe it was Anastasios and I’m in deeper shit than I thought. Maybe it was about Scarlett.

“Thanks, Margie. What do you have on the docket today?” I ask as I sink into my chair and try to shake the feeling that something is very, very wrong.

“Mucking through the slush pile, as usual.” She tilts her head and presses her lips together. “I suppose you probably need a new project now.”

My shoulders fall as I sigh. The thought of going back to business as usual is the nail in my coffin this morning. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

Just as the depressing realization that I’m back to editing works that can’t hold a candle to Scarlett’s is sinking in, Trina appears in my doorway in a flurry of orange skirts and jingly jewelry. Her red lips are twisted into a mischievous grin.

“Don’t you ever answer your phone?” she asks.

I’m out of my chair in a second, walking toward her. “I just got here. What happened? Is Scarlett okay? Why didn’t you call my cell?”

“Down, boy.” She raises her eyebrows, but that smile is still plastered on her face. “She’s on her way here. Last I talked to her, she was a few minutes behind me. I thought you might want to…I don’t know. Meet her in the lobby or something.”