Casey & Raf
Lately, she’s made a habit of coming here—not for the coffee, but to be around people. Even if she’s only answering emails or skimming legal docs, it feels like something. A small act of connection. Away from the beach house, or the office, or the prison cell of her life.
Casey spots her just as she walks through the door. He’s been waiting for this—tracking her movements, timing it perfectly. Raf comes here every afternoon for an hour, like clockwork. Same table, same routine. It made it easy to stage this encounter, to make it look like fate.
And yet, all he can think about is how the poor woman’s already drowning—he knows because he Googled her—and here he is, about to pull her further under still. But the alternative? Unthinkable.
He swallows hard, pushes down the guilt, and locks into script as she pauses at the entrance, glancing around, barely registering the familiar faces of other regulars—until she sees him. Casey, waving from her usual spot. What are the odds? she tells herself. Just two people with intersecting routines, orbiting the same places.
When she waves back, Casey takes it as his cue, standing just as she approaches.
“Oh, hey,” Raf says, breezy but noncommittal. “Casey, right? Sorry I never texted. Things got a little nuts.”
Casey gives a casual grin, eyes tracking her every move. “No worries. I figured you’d circle back when it suited you.”
“You must live in the neighborhood,” she says, filling the silence with polite small talk, cushioning the inevitable brush-off.
He scrambles for a lie, mind racing, reaching for something that feels natural. “Nah. Just here a lot for work. Clients in Venice.” He lets it hang, then softens, laying it on thick. “Plus, my sister and nephew live nearby, and I’m always looking for an excuse to see the little guy.”
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He leans in, flashing a boyish, almost sheepish smile, the kind honed over too many years charming his way out of trouble. “Every Sunday, I take him to church at St. Monica’s. Then we grab sundaes at Sweet Rose Creamery. Kid’s got a serious sweet tooth. Like, embarrassingly bad.” He chuckles. “Guess it runs in the family. I pretend I’m doing it for him, but really? I’m the one who can’t say no to an extra scoop.”
The moment he says it, he reads the flash of recognition on Raf’s face—nostalgia, bittersweet and unexpected.
Mission accomplished. He’d seen the posts buried years back on her Instagram: a younger Raf with Evie and Luca, their hands wrapped around waffle cones, faces sticky with chocolate. Ethan beside her, arm draped over her shoulders, a picture-perfect family photo.
“Well, I was just wrapping up,” Casey says, pulling her from the memory. “If you want my table?” He reaches for his briefcase.
“You’re leaving?” she asks, too quickly, like she didn’t mean to care.
“Yeah, I should get going. See you next week?” he jokes, “same time, same place?”
“If not sooner,” she says, then instantly regrets giving that much away.
“Is that an invitation?”
A small voice in her head tells her not to say yes. Alexander’s voice… You’re a very appealing target… they’ll offer salvation, just long enough to trap you…
She swats him away. She’s done listening. Done believing. Whatever he had over her? It’s gone.
Screw it.
“Normally I start with a coffee date as a preliminary get-to-know-each-other kind of thing,” she says, barely believing the words coming out of her mouth. “But since we’ve already done that… I mean, what the hell. Are you free tonight?”
It’s intoxicating—the rush that hits him as he steps onto the sidewalk. Miraculously, against all odds, he pulled it off. Another step closer.
But the feeling of triumph dissolves as fast as it came. Another step closer… to what?
He sinks into his car and slams the door. There’s no joy, no relief in achieving this end goal, because he doesn’t even know what it is.
And if he did? I’d hate myself even more.
He merges onto the 405, as the thought crystallizes: there are no wins in this sick game of chess. Maybe for Alexander. But not for him, just a pawn, inching toward a doom of his own making… or maybe one made just for him.