Page 64 of The Do-Over

“This dress does nothing for your figure. Sandra, next, please,” Mom said.

Sandra bobbed her head and ushered Phee back to the wilds of the dressing room.

Mom perched on the edge of her chair and rubbed her hands together. “Oh, this will be amazing. We can have hors d’oeuvres and rent linens. And I can make your father get a new suit, finally.”

I downed the rest of my mimosa in one gulp, swallowing the strange urge to laugh with it.

Mom left us two hours later to take Pericles to a pedicure appointment, so Phee and I decided to grab a quick lunch at our favorite pho restaurant close by.

“All right, Mom’s gone. Tell me all about Nate. I want details. Like what’s he like in—”

“Maybe we should order?” I examined my menu with the sort of intensity reserved for the gazes of brain surgeons and teenage boys at the beach. “It looks like it’s busy here. Could take a while.”

“There’s only three other people here. I think we’re safe.” She grinned. “So, Nate. Not at all what I expected.”

I was pretty sure I knew what she expected. “Why? Because he doesn’t have a dad-bod and belong to the Star-Wars-Figurine-of-the-Month Club?”

She let out one of her Oh Perci sighs, but she didn’t deny it. “Nate does not look like a guy who owns figurines. I can tell he’s totally into you. He adores you.”

I bit back a groan. I should just tell her. Rip the band-aid off and get it over with. It was just that this secret made me sound so pathetic. Despite his Oscar-worthy performance, the truth was, Nate didn’t adore me. He had been kind when I’d thrown this mess at him, and that was all. “I think adore is kind of a strong word.”

“Trust me. He likes you a lot.”

I knew I should put an end to all this lying. It wasn’t good for me. But did I listen to myself? “It probably won’t work out or anything. You know me and relationships.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just that I never quite seem to meet expectations somehow. Look how it worked out with Brent.”

“Nate is not Brent. I know I only spent a couple of hours with him, but it’s pretty obvious.” She placed a hand on my arm. “Any guy would be lucky to have you. You’re sweet, kind, smart, funny. You bake stuff and like kids, and people feel comfortable around you.”

I side-eyed her. “They do?”

“Duh.” She rolled her eyes. “Besides, it’s not about whether some guy wants you. It’s whether you want him.”

“That’s easy to say when you’re a ten-foot-tall beauty queen.”

“Tell Mimi that. Can you imagine her waiting around to see if some guy decides she’s worth his time?” She was right. Mimi would never put herself in a position where a man called the shots.

The waitress stopped at our table and asked if we were ready to order. I pounced on the chance to change the subject. After she left, I pulled out a notepad from my purse and launched into a lengthy discussion about appetizers for the anniversary party.

“Oh, I had an idea,” Phee said. “It would be fun to make a slide show of Mom and Dad through the years and play it at the party on a loop. We could look through all those family photo albums. Mimi must have photos too.”

“And by we, you mean me?”

Phee grinned. “Exactly.”

I snorted.

“Do you really think this outfit looks bad?” She adjusted the lapel of her Pepto-Bismol pink suit.

“I wouldn’t say bad.” Awful would be more accurate.

“Joel insisted it was the right image. Professional but feminine.” Her shoulders slumped.

“Hey,” I said, touching her hand. “Everything okay?”

“Sometimes it feels like Joel doesn’t know me at all. Like this outfit.” She bit the corner of her mouth with uncertainty, an emotion I’d never associated with my sister. “You know what else he told me? He thinks once we have kids, I’m going to quit my job. I’m only twenty-four. I don’t even know if I want children. And I sure as heck am not devoting my life to them.” She shivered. “Can you imagine becoming Mom?”