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“First of all, it’s not a big date,” Lily said. “We’re just going. As friends. Joan Cotton gave us tickets and we didn’t have the heart to refuse her. She was so nice about it.”
“Yeah, she thought you were married,” Sydney said. “I don’t recall either of you setting her straight. In fact, what I do remember is Prince Studly looking pretty smug about it. I think he has his eye on you. And, Lily…”
Sydney frowned and Lily knew what was coming before she could even finish her statement.
“Just be careful, okay?”
“I’ll be just fine. In fact, I’ll be even better if I can try on the dresses before we eat. I don’t relish the thought of trying to slip into a slinky gown after indulging in a big plate of pasta. I might get stuck. Actually you’re a lot smaller than I am. Are you sure you have something that will fit me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sydney said. “Of course I do. You have a great figure. Come on. Let’s go back to the bedroom and I’ll show you what I’ve laid out for you.”
Lily’s mind tried to take her back to the past. It tried to dredge up every insecurity she’d ever felt about her curvy figure and compound it with the very real fear that nothing Sydney had to offer would fit. She’d be embarrassed and back at square one. But she wasn’t allowing herself to go there.
Nope, worry was like paying on a debt you might never owe. She’d heard that somewhere and it had become her mantra. So she did her best to brush off the nagging doubts and followed her friend through an elegantly decorated living room, down a hardwood hallway and finally into one of the largest master suites she’d ever seen.
She’d been to Sydney and Miles’s house numerous times, but this was the first time she’d seen the master bedroom. Sydney had laid out at least a dozen gowns of various colors, cuts and levels of sparkle and bling.
As Lily took it all in, Sydney held up the arts and entertainment section of the Celebration Daily News. “Did you see the great article they did on the holiday market? There’s a picture of the kids on page eight.”
Sydney handed it to her. Lily perused the story on the first page before turning to page eight.
When she and the kids had gotten home from the market today, Lily had barely enough time to get the kids situated and the lasagnas made before Cullen got home. They’d talked for a bit—nothing dramatic or earth-shattering, just easy conversation about each of their days: his at the hospital and hers with the kids at the market—before she’d rushed to get over to Sydney’s house. She hadn’t had time to read the paper.
But there it was, a great picture of the girls smiling as Megan handed a loaf of stollen to a customer. The caption under the picture talked about how the children would donate the money they made from sales of the homemade bread to the Grace Children’s Home.
“That’s such a sweet picture,” Sydney said.
“Isn’t it? The girls will be so thrilled to see it.” She had just started to close the paper when a familiar face caught her eye and made her do a double take.
She gasped. Because there smiling up at her from the section featuring the engagement announcements was her ex-fiancé, Josh Stockett, with a pretty, petite blonde. They’d been photographed in a posture Lily and her friends used to jokingly call the “awkward prom pose,” where the couple had their arms around each other and their free hands were intertwined. The petite blonde’s name, Lily learned after reading on a bit, was Ann-Elizabeth Hardy, daughter of Dr. Bernard and Daphne Hardy. Ann-Elizabeth—her name was hyphenated, so Lily was just sure she went by both names. Not Ann. Not Elizabeth. Certainly not Liz or Lizzy or, heaven forbid, Beth or Betsy. She was beautiful and thin with sorority-girl posture and a perfect toothy smile.
She was exactly the type Josh liked. And she was gazing up at the idiot as if he were the second coming.
Engaged.
Josh Stockett, the man whom Lily had had to goad into engagement, was finally getting married.
* * *
When Josh broke up with her, he’d originally told her he wasn’t marrying her because she was too heavy. At a size twelve, he’d told her, he didn’t want to risk getting stuck with a fatty and he’d bailed as fast as he could.
