grinned at Emily. “Too bad Sam’s ideal man is too old for her. And he’s married.”
“Who might that be?” Sam asked, raising her perfectly arched eyebrows.
“Bob Villa, of course. Between the two of you, there wouldn’t be a single store-bought item in your house. You’d knit the couches, he’d build the stove. You’re perfect for each other.”
Sam sighed. “Just because I’m handy—”
“Handy? You out-Martha Stewart Martha Stewart.”
“Look who’s talking, Ms. Everything-Has-To-Match Hope.”
“Hey!” Emily put her hands on her hips, but instead of giving her friends the stern talking-to they deserved, she noticed that of all the women in the room, hers were the only hips that were large, economy-size. It was depressing.
Hope, Lily and Samantha were the perfect width for their height. Julia was too skinny, despite the fact that she ate like a little oinker, darn it. And Zoey was just plain voluptuous, even though she thought she was fat. She wasn’t. But Emily was.
Not life-threateningly fat, but she could lose a good twenty or twenty-five pounds. She should lose—
“Emily?” Hope said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Yes?”
“Weren’t you supposed to be yelling at us?”
“Oh, yeah. Stop it.”
The girls cracked up again, and things were the way they should be once more, only Emily had to force her smile. Couldn’t she go one blessed weekend without obsessing about her weight?
Of course not. Especially after the news she’d heard just this morning. She might as well tell them now. But first, she needed one more cookie before she sat down.
As Emily reached for the bag Lily poured herself another daiquiri.
“I suppose that means you don’t have to take JT tomorrow?” Zoey asked, eyeing the full glass of sweet, cold booze.
“Nope. I can get as toasted as I want.”
“Which isn’t going to be all that toasted,” Sam said. “There will be no throwing up tonight. We’re too old for that nonsense.”
“Yeah,” Hope agreed. “Hangovers have completely lost their charm.”
“I’ve got an announcement,” Emily said. But she must have said it very softly, because no one looked at her. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’ve got an announcement!”
That quieted the room. All eyes were upon her, and she felt her face heat up. She hated blushing, but that was yet another thing she had no control over.
“Well?” Sam said.
“Scott Dillon is coming back to town.”
Silence.
A really long stretch of silence.
Hope looked at Sam. Lily looked at Julia. Zoey looked at Emily, then looked away.
“When?” Lily asked.
“Oh, um, tomorrow.”
“What!” shouted the chorus.
“I’m fine,” Emily assured them. “It’s no big deal.”
“My behind,” Zoey said, bounding to her feet. “Why did you wait so long to say anything?”
“I just found out.”
“In the last five seconds?”
“No. This morning.”
Zoey grabbed a small water bottle from the side table then settled her gaze on Emily. “What’s the story?”
“Kelly told me, since his father died, Scott’s mom is having a tough time running the store. So Scott’s coming home to help until they figure out what to do.”
“Kelly?” Hope turned to Lily. “Isn’t she Jeff Whaley’s girlfriend?”
“Yeah. She’s the one that got that boob job.”
Julia shook her head at the two gossips. “That’s not the main item on the agenda, ladies.”
The miscreants focused on Emily. She wished they’d go on talking about boob jobs. Scott Dillon wasn’t her favorite topic, outside of her daydreams, that is. But at least she didn’t have to go into any lengthy explanations. They all knew she’d been crazy about him since tenth grade. That he’d played Romeo to her Juliet in drama class, which turned the crush into mad, passionate love. And that he’d broken her heart when he’d taken Cathy Turner to the prom.
Her friends even had the decency not to mention that she’d never stood a chance with Scott. A gorgeous guy like him, football captain, president of the class, would never consider a girl like her in a romantic sense. That was not the way the world worked. She was the friend, the sounding board, the one who’d find out if the Cathy Turners of the world were interested in the Scott Dillons. But she’d never be the date. The love interest. Not with her chubby cheeks and her large economy-size hips.
“So, are you going to do something about it?” Zoey asked.
“Like what?”
“Like ask him out.”
Emily burst out laughing. “Yeah, right.”
“I’m not kidding. He’s always liked you, Emily. I mean he still calls you, right?”
“Once. He called once a hundred years ago. As a friend. Nothing more.”
“He’s older now. More mature.”
“And dating older, more mature supermodels. Not one chance in hell he’d ever go for me that way.”
“You don’t know that.”
Emily lifted her right brow.
Zoey’s shoulders sagged. “It could happen,” she said weakly.
“No, it couldn’t,” Emily said with a sigh. “But it sure would have been nice, huh?”
“What?”
“One night. One perfect night. Champagne, a full moon, music, flowers. I would have been happy with that, you know? With the memory.”
No one spoke for a moment and, just as startling, no one ate anything for a moment. Emily guessed they were all thinking of their own secret dreams. Those heartfelt wishes for things that could never be.
She’d be fine. She would. She was a champ at landing on her feet. “Okay,” she said, climbing off the bed again, more than ready to change the subject. “I say
