Chapter Twelve

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Tyler

I sit calmly on the couch, occasionally raising my glass of water to my lips.

"Should we can the police?" Travis asks.

"No." I respond quietly.

"Should I call her?" Delaney wonders.

"No. She left to get space, so that's what we will give her. She's not lost."

"Tyler, how the hell are you so calm?" Delaney demands. "It's four in the morning!"

I raise my glass to my lips and take a sip.

"Because Casey is fine."

"You don't know her at all." Delaney says. "She could be hurt!"

"I can assure you Delaney, I know Casey better than anybody on the planet, including herself. She is fine."

"You don't know that." She says angrily. "You know Casey as a teenager. You don't know the today Casey!"

I know the today Casey, I know the yesterday Casey, and I know the fifty years down the road Casey.

She was born to be my girl, and I was born to be her man.

I know her more than anybody.

I don't respond to Delaney, simply because she has no idea what she is talking about.

"What's her favorite color?"

"Purple." I say calmly.

"Favorite food?"

"Anything Italian."

"How does she sleep?"

"She falls asleep on her back and alternates between sides through the night and then wakes up either on her stomach or on her left side."

"Favorite dessert?"

"Ice cream."

"What makes her cry?"

"Movies. Specifically The Notebook. It's her favorite. She's more likely, however, to cry at a movie with a dog, especially if the dog dies. Her favorite animal is tied with a dog and a bunny. She loves hot chocolate, but only with marshmallows. She loves candy canes. Her favorite holiday is Christmas. She doesn't like her birthday because she doesn't like the attention. She loves Black Friday and coffee. She will never admit it but she wears makeup because she is insecure. That's why at her Mom's wedding, she cried in the bathroom. I'm sure she is under the assumption that I don't know, but I know. I think her being insecure is absurd because she the most beautiful women in the world. I know everything about her. I can assure you, Delaney, Casey is fine."

"I would like to know for sure." She says.

I already know for sure. Why isn't she listening to me.

"Why aren't you freaking out?" She questions. "Why are you so calm. It's like you don't care!"

"There is no reason for me to freak out." I say calmly. "I know that she is fine." I stand up and walk into the bathroom. I rummage through the cabinets until I find a spare toothbrush. My teeth feel digesting, but there has been too much going on today. I soak the brush and put toothpaste on it, and then I brush my teeth. I spit out the foam and rinse my brush, dropping it into the cup next to the only other one, the purple one. I walk back into the living room, and Delaney slams her hands down on the coffee table and rises to her feet, her hands in fists as she glares at me.

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