Chapter 5
Gemma Gardner never appreciated the phrase “You carry your weight well,” but it was one she had heard more than once. She
knew what the saying implied—that she had a pretty face, round and charming with flawless milky skin and framed with bouncy
brown hair, and she also dressed trendily, cute. All that was fine and well, but the expression also meant she was too big.
Gemma had been heavyset for as long as she could remember. She could vividly recall being in elementary school and her tall,
skinny father sitting at the kitchen table, his brows furrowed with concern as he sternly told her mother, “You can’t feed
her so much, Linda. She’ll be as big as a barn.” Those words still lingered in her mind decades after they were spoken.
Linda, Gemma’s mother, expressed her affection through cooking.
Every meal was a labor of love, filled with hearty portions of meat—fried chicken or smothered pork chops—accompanied by two vegetables and bread.
However, the vegetables were never served in their natural state.
There was no steaming and light seasoning in Linda’s kitchen.
Vegetables were coated in breadcrumbs or baked into comforting cheesy casseroles.
Gravy formed a pond in the center of the mashed potatoes.
The homemade cornbread muffins or biscuits accompanying the meals were delicious and warm proof of Linda’s culinary skills.
While her mama’s meals brought Gemma temporary comfort, they also contributed to the weight she carried both physically and emotionally.
Gemma pondered all of this as she sat on the couch in her office at Emory Hills Realty, gazing out at the rain soaking downtown
Atlanta. The sweltering summer humidity caused steam to rise from the rooftops and roads, creating a thick fog in the air.
She turned away from the view and focused on her computer, scrolling through a website in search of a bathing suit for Moira’s
birthday weekend coming up in a couple of weeks. The thought of trying on swimsuits in a store made her cringe, so she opted
to order several online instead, hoping at least one would fit. If not, she could always return the ones that didn’t work
or use them as furniture covers.
“That was rude,” she said, acknowledging the self-deprecating thought out loud.
The bathing suits that ended up in her cart resembled cheerleading outfits more than anything else, featuring sleeveless full-coverage
tops paired with skirts. This style reminded Gemma of the customized uniform that had fit her snugly in high school. Although
she didn’t have the cute and petite figure of some other girls, Gemma was popular thanks to her big personality and infectious
laughter. She dedicated her time and talents to various clubs, and during her senior year, she had a leading role as Rizzo
in the Tunnel Hill High School production of Grease.
During the Friday evening performance, Gemma caught the eye of Tyler Gardner, the ruggedly handsome cousin of one of her schoolmates.
His charm made other boys dislike him while girls adored him. Gemma was both shocked and flattered when he chose to pay attention
to her.
“Why did you choose me?” she asked him one night only a few weeks into their relationship, while they sat on the tailgate of his truck under the Georgia stars. “You are so handsome, Tyler. You could have someone much thinner, much more beautiful.”
“But you have such a pretty face,” he said before he kissed her forehead and finished singing the chorus to an Alan Jackson
song playing on the radio.
She entered her credit card information and slammed her laptop shut after successfully placing her order for the bathing suits.
She dreaded seeing the charge from the plus-sized women’s clothing company on her bank statement, as it would only lead to
ridicule from Tyler. The thought of the insults he would throw her way made her roll her eyes, though she was used to it by
now.
Over the years, Tyler’s scrutiny of Gemma had intensified. He’d recently started counting her calories, his critical gaze
fixed on her whenever she reached for sugary, high-calorie snacks. One evening at dinner a few years ago, he chastised her
for choosing a glass of sweet tea instead of unsweetened.
“We’re born and raised in Georgia, Tyler. Unsweet tea is blasphemy!” Gemma’s Southern drawl declared.
“Zero-calorie aspartame, Gemma. Ever heard of it?”
“Cancer, Tyler. Ever heard of it?”
He smirked nonchalantly, as if he believed the love of his life consuming a carcinogenic sweetener was preferable to her being
overweight. What began as playful banter over tea transformed into a strained silence, and Gemma felt the weight of his judgment
pressing down on her. She recalled their disagreement each time she fixed herself a glass of sweet tea, which was every day.
Thunder rumbled over the city as Gemma made calculations in her mind.
There were two weeks and three days until the birthday weekend on Allyson Island.
By cutting out all sugars, starches, and carbohydrates, she hoped to lose a pound each day.
However, that still wouldn’t be enough to fit into the stylish, boutique corduroy pants she loved but hadn’t been able to button for nearly six months.
What would be the point of dieting anyway?
Mo was a fabulous hostess who would inevitably indulge her guests over the weekend.
The thought of eating whatever she wanted without feeling Tyler’s disapproving stare brought a smile to her face.
Gemma walked over to her messy desk and picked up her phone. While standing there, she grabbed a handful of salty potato chips
from a bag amid the clutter. Then she texted Mo, I’ll see you on the 20th. Can’t wait! XOXO
Moira immediately responded, Antonio is making his famous chocolate panna cotta. XOXO
Gemma smiled before deleting the text so Tyler would never see it.
Gemma Howell had become friends with Celia Kate Hopkins in elementary school through alphabetized seating charts. As they
grew older, they chose to sit together in class. In fifth grade, Moira joined their friendship after Celia Kate’s twin brother
passed her a note in English class asking if she would be his girlfriend. Although their middle school romance lasted only
until lunch the next day, Celia Kate and Gemma continued their friendship with Moira.
Moira Wallace came from a wealthy lumber-business background and lived in a big white house on acres of rolling hills, while CK and Gemma were middle-class kids raised in middle-class neighborhoods.
Despite their different upbringings, Moira was a good friend who never boasted or bragged like some of the other rich kids in their hometown.
Her humility was evident in her warm smile and the genuine way she treated others, making her just like Mrs. Louise Wallace—beautiful on the inside as well as the outside.
Their friendship endured the dramatics of adolescence, and at Tunnel Hill High School, it was rare to see one of them without
the others. Moira was the knockout—homecoming queen and a cheerleader too—while Celia Kate stood out as an athlete, excelling
in basketball and track. Gemma embraced her role as the funny “big girl” of the trio, both then and now.
Even though the three friends remained close after graduating high school and while pursuing college, careers, and families,
the bond between CK and Gemma was different. In their decades-long friendship, they never went more than a few days without
speaking. They also shared secrets they wouldn’t tell anyone else, not even Moira, and spoke to each other frankly, like sisters.
Gemma brushed the greasy chip crumbs from her hands and settled at her desk. She felt a sense of joy thinking about the four-hour
drive from Atlanta to Savannah. With CK as her companion, a mix of good conversation, ’90s music, and a car full of snacks
was exactly what she needed and deserved. After all, she sold two multimillion-dollar homes in August. On top of that, she
was juggling numerous stressful commitments for Carolina’s senior class, including building the homecoming float, selling
raffle tickets, and organizing a car wash to fund the senior dance. Tyler, of course, offered no help. When he wasn’t busy
selling insurance, he was off hunting or fishing . . . among other things.
Gemma lay on her side in the king-size bed, the duvet bunched around her waist, one arm tucked beneath her cheek. The other side of the bed was cold and empty. It had been for a while now. Tyler said he had plans, but she didn’t ask with whom. She didn’t need to.
Her eyes burned from crying, though the tears had stopped hours ago. Now she just stared at the shadows on the wall and chewed
on the inside of her cheek. She looked at her reflection in the mirror across the room. The outline of her body, covered in
moonlight, made her stomach twist. She pulled the blanket up higher.
Tyler’s words echoed in her head: “Maybe if you took better care of yourself.”
She clenched her jaw and blinked hard, whispering obscenities about him in the dark. What she needed was a snack. She had
discovered a box of Girl Scout cookies in the freezer earlier that day, and that was exactly what she wanted: Thin Mints and
a big glass of milk. However, she didn’t want to risk being in the kitchen, rummaging through the refrigerator, when Tyler
finally came home. That would just be more fuel for the fire.
She turned onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. The silence pressed down on her chest, heavy and familiar. Tomorrow she
would put on her blazer, paint on a smile, and sell someone their dream home. She was good at that. She was good at making
things look perfect—at making strangers believe in happiness.
But tonight she let herself feel the weight of betrayal, the ache of years spent shrinking herself to make room for a man
who never tried to understand her. She pulled the blanket tighter around her and whispered into the empty room, “I deserve
better.”
It was the truest thing she’d said in a long time.