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“I’ll get everyone’s attention when I pop an eye out with these suckers!” I gesture to my deceptively enhanced bosom.
After the disastrous dinner, Millie showed up on my doorstep with a carton of apology ice cream. I let her in and after finally fessing up that I had been struggling with my love quest ever since her brother’s ultra-potent pheromones had broken me, we decided to change the game plan. Now the plan was two-fold. I needed to find love to avoid imminent spinsterhood, but also to prove Emmett wrong. We were going to pick up right where we left off, at the gym. And if Emmett happened to be there, so much the better.
At Millie’s suggestion, we did a little shopping to update my workout wardrobe. Always down for retail therapy, I went willingly. Excitedly, even. I didn’t realize I was in danger until Millie dragged me into the lingerie shop and asked for ‘the works’. Apparently, that meant an entirely new wardrobe for my undercarriage. Which really isn’t a bad thing. There is nothing sexy about my plain cotton briefs and supportive, nude bras. But as each pair of underwear Millie held up got progressively smaller and smaller, I finally felt the first tingle of apprehension tickle my spine.
After Millie picked out four pairs of dental floss she deemed ‘perfect!’, we moved to the bras. Which was where we found the Bra-Dozer 3000. Actually, the technical name was the ‘night-out’ bra, I think. It was advertised to ‘give you two cup sizes, guaranteed!’, and it definitely did that. It was made with such thick padding it looked nearly bullet-proof and it pushes my girls up to heights they’ve never achieved before. On a smaller-chested woman, it probably looks great, but on me with my already large chest, it makes me look and feel extremely top heavy. I can probably balance my dinner plate on these puppies.
“Stop being dramatic! You look great. He won’t be able to take his eyes off you!”
“He? I’m not here for Emmett,” I hasten to remind her.
“Yes, I know. I just meant that no man is going to be able to look away. You look hot. But no one’s going to see all my hard work if you never actually leave the dressing room.” Millie glares at me meaningfully. Feeling properly chastised, I nod. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I shove the door open and enter the gym. I give it a handful of seconds standing in front of the door feeling like a circus side-show, but when no one seems to pay me any mind, I relax and make my way to the warm-up area.
It probably isn’t as bad as I think. As a curvier girl, I’m just hyper-sensitive to anything that puts the spotlight on me because, let’s face it, I seem to have made an Olympic sport out of embarrassing myself in front of members of the opposite sex. I’m relieved to see that at this time of day, the gym is mostly empty. Most patrons are still at work this early on a weekday. Even if I do make a fool of myself, at least there aren’t many people here to see it. It doesn’t look like Emmett is here, either. I should be relieved, but part of me is disappointed. I shake it off. He’s a jerk. I need to focus on someone I may actually have a chance with. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like the options were plentiful here today. But maybe that’s not a bad thing. I can use some time to get comfortable in my new, showier style, before I’m around a possible prospect again.
Millie stops a couple feet from me, and we start our simple stretching routine. This is our fourth trip to the gym—thankfully the other trips hadn’t been as eventful as the first—and while I still hate exercise, I found that I hate it a little less if I warm up beforehand. And I’m not as sore the next day. My new floatation devices make some stretches a little challenging, but I’m pleased to note that my girls have stayed in their assigned seats. Honestly, a part of me was afraid of a nipple popping out the top for air and scarring the gym members for life, but so far, my breasts are behaving. “Maybe this won’t be so bad after all, Mil.” I say, appreciating my cleavage as I bend forward for toe touches. I nearly made it, the nice pulling sensation in the back of my thighs starting to edge toward painful as my fingertips graze the tips of my toes. My newly buoyant chest has me bouncing back before I can grab hold, but I push myself downwards again, with more force this time. The victorious feeling that fills me as I finally latch onto my toes is short-lived as a loud ripping sound meets my ears just before I feel a cool breeze on my butt. My very bare butt.
Millie—bless her—doesn’t miss a beat. After a garbled sound somewhere between crying and laughter escapes me, Millie moves behind me, effectively cutting off the view for the handful of gym patrons on the machines behind us. My cheeks are a scarlet red now as embarrassment floods me. I was so focused on my precarious balancing act with my chest that I hadn’t been at all concerned about the tight yoga pants Millie insisted on. That is an obvious miscalculation on my part.“Come on, babe. I’ve got your back. Let’s go.” Her hands land on my shoulders, and she gently guides me back the way we had come.
“Millie, I love you, but I am going to kill you for this one.” I speak through gritted teeth as we slowly walk sideways toward the dressing room, hip-to-hip. The only saving grace to this whole debacle is that there aren’t many witnesses to my shame. Only an older man on the rowing machine, a couple on the treadmills behind us, and two teenage girls taking turns on an ab machine in the corner. At least this wardrobe malfunction hadn’t happened in front of Emmett. I wouldn’t survive the shame.
As if my very thoughts conjured the man, I hear, “So, we meet again, Sunshine.” His husky voice, which I would have loved to hear just moments before, now increases my humiliation further than I ever thought possible. My face flames and I can’t bring myself to face the gorgeous man in this moment. Slamming my eyes shut—my thought process being if I don’t actually see him, then maybe he isn’t there—I run toward the locker room, extricating myself from the slower moving Millie in the interest of getting the hell out of there more quickly. Slamming the door and leaning back against it with my chest heaving for a breath, I finally relent and open my eyes. Before the denial phase can convince me that I imagined the entire thing, I turn my back to the mirror and take in the damage. A tear splits straight down the middle, showcasing about four inches of the crack of my butt and a decent amount of my cheeks, too. The cute underwear, Millie-approved dental floss with tiny hearts on them, has completely disappeared into my bum, offering exactly no protection from the full moon I just shared with the handful of gym patrons and Emmett. In this moment, I know the true meaning of the word mortification as my chest tightens and my breath comes in fast, hard spurts. At least the first time I embarrassed myself in front of Emmett, I had the buffer of alcohol to make it seem less bad. Now, I have nothing to filter the pure humiliation of the moment I just experienced.
It’s official. I’m never going to be able to show my face around him again.
fourteen
R.E.S.P.E.C.T.
“Okay. So, that did not go as planned,” Millie valiantly works to keep a straight face, but I can see the corners of her mouth moving upwards, “you definitely made an impression, though.”
I grab a pillow from the couch and toss it at Millie. She dodges the pillow easily and bursts into laughter. “Hardy-Har-Har, Millie. Make fun of my most shameful moment. Let’s not forget that if I had been wearing my normal underwear instead of the dental floss you picked out, I would have been fine. So, you’re at least equally responsible for the weight of the shame, too.” My face heats just thinking about it, but I can’t let a little embarrassment sway me from the task at hand.
I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I don’t want to think about it any longer. I’m going to pretend it never happened. But first, I have to know. “What did he say to you after I left?”
“He just asked if you were alright, that’s all. Didn’t mention...anything else,” is Millie’s tactful reply, but the way her eyes are roving the room, as if she wants to look anywhere but at me, tells me that she’s not being entirely honest.
I don’t call her on it. My imagination has been in overdrive about all the different things he could have said after I fled, but burying my head in the sand and buying Millie’s oversimplified explanation is easier. So, I just nod and try to move on. I need to get my mind off of Emmett and back to the end goal. My love life. And actually, having one. “Now, focus. What do I need to do next? I’m running out of time, and I’m not even sure I can face your brother ever again, so I may have to move.” My normally optimistic demeanor is hanging on by a thread at this point. I really didn’t think it would be this hard just to get my foot in the door. I didn’t even make it beyond the first date with anyone yet. Hell, the only man I’ve been interested in—Emmett—I don’t even stand a chance with. My pride could only take so many hits and giving up didn’t sound like that bad of an idea right now. “Maybe we need to go back to the drawing board on this entire debacle altogether,” I say, wringing my hands together and plopping down at my tiny kitchen table.
We’re back at my house. I took the requisite number of days to drown myself in my shame, but now I’m ready to get my head back into the game. Well, mostly. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to face Emmett again. The problem is, I’m running out of ideas. As a self-confessed romance expert, I know just about every romantic trope there is, but none of those help me with the general catastrophe that I’m proving to be. How can I make a man fall in love with me when I’m such a disaster?
I’m so lost in thought that I almost miss Millie’s next words, “What if you don’t need a game plan…” Her voice trails off, almost as if she isn’t sure she wants to say the last bit.
“What do you mean? Of course, I need a game plan. I want to find my very own prince and fall in love before my thirtieth birthday, which is only six months away now. I don’t want to die as an old maid and I’m tired of waiting for love to find me. I’m going to go out and make my own happiness, dammit!” I can feel my cheeks flush and sweat bead on my brow as I finish my passionate statement, but Millie’s expression hasn’t changed.
“I’m not saying you need to give up entirely, Charley. I’m only saying that maybe your plans haven’t worked out so well, thus far. And that maybe, just maybe, you’d want your Mr. Right to get to know—and hopefully fall in love with—the genuine version of you. Our plans were fine to get you out there and to help you meet someone, but if you’re really interested in Emmett, if you really think there could be something real there, then let him get to know the real you. The real, wonderful, crazy you I’ve loved for years now.”Staring at her as if she’s grown two heads during the course of this conversation, I say, “I can’t do that!”
“Why not?” Millie challenges, not missing a beat.
“So many reasons!” I sputter. “For one, he’s your brother, Mil. I would never cross that line because I can’t lose you if something like that didn’t work out.” Millie opens her mouth to speak, but I hold my finger up, “let me finish. And for two, he’s made it very clear that he’s not interested in me. He probably dates skinny, beautiful models, and I’m...me.” I gesture at my body in case she isn’t picking up what I’m putting down.
“Charley! For the love of all that’s holy, will you stop putting yourself down all the time? There is nothing wrong with you. Not with your personality or your body. If he’s not interested in you, it wouldn’t be because of some imagined deficiency.” Millie’s cheeks were flushed red now, too. She pauses long enough to catch her breath and starts again, her voice lower this time. “And to address the fact that he’s my brother. I don’t care, Charley. You’re my sister, and I love you and I don’t want you to use me as an excuse not to go for something you want because you’re scared.”
“It’s not an excuse,” I shake my head and cross my arms on the table, my eyes following the lines in the wood grain as if the answers to all life’s mysteries could be found there. Really, I just don’t want to look Millie in the eyes right now. This entire situation is going in a direction I hadn’t planned for. I couldn’t have prepared for it. No boards or lists could have predicted that I would end up sitting here talking to Millie about her broody, arrogant brother being the only man to pique my interest since this quest had begun. Emmett can’t be the one. He just can’t. “I don’t have any family, Mil. You’re it. I would never do anything to jeopardize that because as much as I want to find my Mr. Right, I know I could survive imminent spinsterhood if I had to. What I could not survive is losing my only family if things go south.”
She’s silent for a moment, sits next to me and grabs my hand before saying, “Charley, if you really think I’d let something like that come between us, you really don’t know me that well. Would it be awkward if you and Emmett dated and then broke up? Sure. But it wouldn’t change the fact that you’re my family just as much as he is. You’re stuck with me no matter what, so don’t let me stand in the way of what you want.”
“None of this even matters anyhow,” I sigh. “Because the only man that has piqued my interest at all, is not even remotely interested in me, doesn’t even believe in love, and has only seen me at my absolute worst. Time and time again. It’s useless,” I rest my head on her shoulder.
