Chapter 35
Carla
I pull on my jeans, pull up the zipper, and then attempt to close the button, but it doesn’t quite get there. I try again, sucking in my stomach, and it doesn’t help.
I can’t close my jeans.
I make a noise of shock. It’s squeaky. Then I rip the jeans off and toss them in my closet, even though they did nothing wrong. I even shut the door with a flare of drama.
It’s not their fault they don’t fit me.
Right! That’s it.
I’ve been a member of that gym for forever, and I’ve walked through the door exactly twice. Once on the day I signed up, and once three months later because I felt guilty about not going. I pay my membership month after month. I tell myself I’m going to go but never do.
I’m going!
Just not today because it’s Sunday, which means rest and doing absolutely nothing that requires effort. But tomorrow, either before work or during my lunch hour, I’m going. In fact, during my lunch hour would be best because at least I can’t overeat if I don’t have time.
I’ve been back from Mistveil for six weeks now, and all I do is stuff my face.
My sofa is dented from all the time I’ve spent on it.
Yesterday morning, I went to the corner bakery and ordered two pastries.
Not only that, I got myself a large cappuccino with whipped cream and salted caramel and proceeded to consume all of it in one sitting.
I’ve been eating like there is no tomorrow.
Not the healthy stuff, either. It’s been chocolate, pizza, pasta, my favorite Thai food – all of it, constantly, in quantities that I’m not proud of.
No wonder my jeans don’t fit. I’d be shocked if they did.
I’ve noticed how tight my work suits are getting, and I’ve ignored it.
Well, no more.
I dig through my drawer until I find a pair of black stretchy tights and an oversized T-shirt. I pull them on and assess myself in the mirror. My breasts are huge as well. Some of the weight has gone there too. And my ass. My ass looks ginormous.
What the hell!?
No!
Just no.
I’m going to have to buy a new wardrobe if this continues, and I refuse. I’m going to the gym and cleaning up my diet.
I yawn into the back of my hand while going through to the kitchen and put the kettle on. It is not even noon, and I am already considering a nap. The couch is calling my name yet again. I’m going to answer that call because today is my final day as a slouch.
I reach for a mug when there’s a knock on my front door.
I frown. I’m not expecting anyone.
I go and open it, and it’s Robyn, and she looks like someone lit her up from the inside. She’s in a pretty top, and her hair is down, and she’s practically vibrating on the spot.
“What are you doing here?” I say. “Not that I’m not pleased to see you, because I am. I thought you’d be with Ridge. Get in here.” I step back and wave her in.
She comes in, still doing that contained bouncing thing. I close the door.
“I take it that yesterday went well with Ridge’s dragon?” I say.
“So well.” Her voice comes out a little breathless. “It was— He loves me. They both do. His dragon is so beautiful and sweet, Carla. He walked right up to me and let me put my hands on him. It was the best.”
“I’m so happy it went well.” I smile. “What did I tell you? You were worried for nothing.”
“Turns out you were right.”
“I’m always right. I just put on the kettle. Do you want some tea?” I gesture toward the kitchen.
“Yes, please.”
She follows me over there and leans against the counter while I get the mugs. She has this expression. Like she’s bursting.
“Okay,” I say. “What else? There’s more…out with it.”
She holds up her hand, the back part toward me. Palm down.
I look at it.
It takes me a moment, because the ring is subtle. It’s not a diamond but a pretty pearl in a rose-gold setting. My brain takes a beat to organize the information.
I gasp. “Oh, my god.” I put the mugs down. “Is that what I think it is?” I’m grinning.
“It belonged to Ridge’s mother,” Robyn says, and her voice is soft and filled with emotion. “His father made it for her. It was her engagement ring.”
“Robyn.” My mouth is hanging open. “Are you engaged to Ridge? Is that what this is? Did he ask you yesterday?”
She nods, biting her bottom lip.
“Oh, my gosh! No way! Are you actually engaged right now?” I know it’s a stupid question to keep asking, but I ask it anyway.
“Yes, I’m an engaged woman.”
I put my arms around her, and she puts her arms around me, and we stand there holding each other for a moment, and there is something burning behind my eyes that I have to blink away. She laughs against my shoulder, a little teary herself. We both sniff a few times.
When we pull apart, we are both wiping our eyes and pretending we’re not.
“Tell me everything,” I say, going back to the tea.
She does.
“And,” she adds when I hand her the mug, “I threw away my pill this morning. We’re officially trying for a baby.”
“You’re not even married yet. I mean, that’s great, don’t get me wrong. It’s amazing.”
“We’ve set a date for the wedding,” she says, still beaming. “Five weeks as of yesterday. I have five weeks to organize a wedding.”
“Less,” I tell her.
She grins at me over the rim of her mug. “You’re helping me.”
“Of course I’m helping you.” I snicker. “I’m so happy for you, Robyn.” I hug her again. She laughs again. We are both a little bit of a mess.
We stay like that for a second or two before she leans back and looks at me with a silly smile on her face.
“Will you be my maid of honor?”
My eyes bug out because I almost can’t believe it. “What about your sister?”
“I’ll ask her to be my bridesmaid. I want you right next to me every step of the way.”
“Oh, my god, yes,” I say. “Obviously yes.” I hug her again, and she laughs into my shoulder. We pull apart.
“Okay.” I start going over everything in my head.
“We need to start thinking about the details. Things like the color scheme. And you need to pick out flowers too. You’ll need a cake.
And we need to find you a dress before anything else because five weeks is such a short time.
You and Ridge will need to go and look for a venue.
Did you have something in mind? If so, I’ll make the arrangements.
Otherwise, I’ll make a list of options for you guys to check out.
I’m on it. All of it. I’ll need to make a list.”
She laughs. “I love you so hard.”
“Love you too. This is going to be amazing.”
“Ridge asked Flint and Magma to be at his side. Magma will be the best man.”
Shit! Shit! Shit!
Why didn’t I think about this?
Oh, my god!!! I’m panicking a little. I’m going to see Magma. He’ll be there.
“That’s nice,” I say, and it comes out slightly high-pitched, but I doubt she noticed.
“You’ll be fine with Flint there, won’t you?” Robyn watches me closely. “It isn’t weird between you two, is it?”
“Not at all.” I shake my head. “We’re friends. It’s completely fine.”
“And you know Magma, of course.” She says it like it’s the most ordinary sentence in the world.
It. Is. Not.
“Yes,” I say. “Of course.” I shrug, trying to keep it casual.
It. Is. Not.
“So, we will need to do a rehearsal with the whole wedding party in four weeks. My sister will fly up early, especially, and then it’ll be the actual big day.” She squeals, doing that bounce.
I’m going to see Magma in four weeks. I feel excited. Then there’s the wedding. A thought hits, and I hate it. It makes my stomach drop.
He’s seeing someone. That pretty Red shifter. Will he bring her as his date? Of course he will if he’s seeing her.
Crap!
No!
Arghhhh!
It makes logical sense. He’ll bring her.
“Are we allowed a plus-one?” I ask. I’m sure we will be allowed. In which case he will bring her.
She gives me the side-eye. “I thought you were taking a break from men?”
Crap!
I wasn’t talking about me, but I need to cover it up quickly.
“I might want to bring a date to your wedding.” I hold my mug with both hands. “I might be ready to date by then.”
If Magma is bringing someone, then I am also bringing someone. That is a completely reasonable stance to take. I don’t want to be alone and look pathetic.
Robyn smiles. “Of course. Everyone is welcome to bring a plus-one.” She tips her head.
Yep! Magma will bring her. What was her name…um…Brook. Tall and toned and gorgeous.
I’m going on a diet. I swear I am.
Scratch Monday; I’m starting today.
“I’m thinking of champagne,” Robyn says absently.
“I thought you were trying to get pregnant. Champagne might not be the best idea right now. I’m not even sure I have any in the house.”
She snort-laughs. “As a color choice, you idiot.”
“Oh!” I laugh as well.
“I think champagne would work on you as a color,” she says.
“Sounds good. I’ll wear whatever you want me to. We’ll go to that bridal place in town next Saturday. I’m all yours from now until your big day, okay?”
“You are the best!”
“You’re going to look so beautiful in white,” I gush.
“I was thinking of going with cream. It’s not like I’m a virgin or anything.”
“And you might be pregnant by then.” I laugh. “Okay, cream it is.”
I have a few weeks to get into shape.
A few weeks before I have to face him again.
Before I have to face them.
I can do it.