Page 36 of Merry Fake Bride

“How glamorous.” She giggles. “Well, it’s so good to see you again! I kept saying to the girls that we should all pile on a plane and come see you just as an excuse to visit L.A. And now you’re here!”

She grins at me and then quickly pulls out a small card from her pocket. “Here, take my new number!”

The pristine white card is embellished with gold ink around the edges and text in the middle stating Amanda’s name and her current occupation as a private health and fitness coach.

Her number rests just below her card.

“This is you?” I tap the card. “I saw posters around town but I didn’t realize it was you.”

“Yup! Heaven’s Soldiers. Elegant, right? I’m doing the Lord’s work by helping people get into shape!”

She grins and then her smile falls as she touches my arm. “I don’t mean you need to, you look as good as always! I always did envy how big your tits and ass were! I’m glad to see the L.A diet of air didn’t rob you of your curves!”

There it is.

The accidental insult from a place of honest thoughtlessness.

Never malicious, but enough to send me back to the scales once or ten as a teen, wondering why I could never shed the pounds my friends lost simply by breathing.

My weight increased under Axel when food became my only comfort, and now I’m battling to accept myself kindly just by looking in the mirror.

So I force the same smile I always gave Amanda. “Don’t worry. If this body were teachable, I’d be a millionaire.”

Amanda laughs heartily and quickly hugs me again. “I have to dash, but please call me! I’d love to catch up!”

And she’s gone, leaving a cloud of sweet candy perfume in her wake. As much as her comment stings, there’s a familiarity in it that’s comforting.

My five years in L.A. became my own personal hell. It’s oddly nice to be back here, even with Amanda’s runaway mouth.

I finish my shopping and head home to cook up a hearty chicken and pasta dish for my parents.

My dad sits at the table whittling away at some wood from the garden while my mother sits next to him sketching out designs for a commissioned wedding cake.

We’re almost fully booked for Thanksgiving Wedding requests and then it will be Christmas.

My favorite time of the year, although my dreams of a perfect family Christmas teeter under the shadow of my parents’ debt and losing the bakery.

But over the steam of my cooking, I see them sitting with their ankles intertwined while they work silently.

Despite everything, they remain happy. I envy it.

My phone buzzing drags me from my thoughts and I answer to Amanda, who was too excited to see me and hunted down my number instead.

My momentary alarm at her finding my number online is soothed when she explains her mother had it on file because of my parents, and relief floods through me as Amanda invites me out for drinks.

“Oh, I’m not sure?—”

“Listen!” She quickly cuts me off. “I saw your arm and I’m sorry I didn’t ask about it and I know you must be on medication, so we can drink mocktails all night and you can tell me what happened while scolding me for being a terrible friend! I get so busy and my brain just blahs, you know? But please,pleasecome out with me! I told the girls you were back and everyone misses you!”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Pasta spills over my spoon as stir. “I have a lot going on and I don’t know if I can squeeze in some time for drinks?—”

“Go!” Mom suddenly stands in front of me and takes the spoon from me. “Go and have a nice time! You deserve to go out with friends.”

Taking the phone from where I balanced it on my shoulder, I cover the speaker with my fingers. “But what about dinner?”

“Devon, sweetheart. We’ll always be here for dinner. After the week you’ve had, you should go and have some fun with your friends.”

She smiles earnestly at me. “You need to unwind.”