then turned and walked out.
She didn’t really see how he considered this interlude enlightening. Nothing had been resolved. Nothing was going to be resolved. Not until he took responsibility for his actions and stopped blaming everything on her. And she knew that would never happen.
Deidre waited several seconds, until they could hear the sound of his footsteps on the stairs, then she shut the door and turned to Ivy. “Enlightening?”
“It’s not what you think,” Ivy said.
“I’m not sure what I should think.”
“Nothing was going on. We were just talking.”
“Talking? Oh, my gosh!” Deidre squealed. “That’s so awesome!”
No. Not really. “I was trying to take your advice. I wanted to resolve whatever it is we’re still hanging on to.”
“And?” she pressed, her eyes bright and enthusiastic. And so full of hope it nearly broke Ivy’s heart.
Deidre was so excited, Ivy hated to disappoint her. But as her mother used to say, part of growing up is accepting disappointment and realizing that there are some things you just can’t change.
When it came to Ivy and Dillon’s relationship, Deidre would have to learn to live with defeat.
Ivy had.
“We don’t seem to be making much progress.” May be they weren’t meant to resolve anything. May be what they needed was to simply forget the past and go their separate ways.
Tough to do when the guy followed her everywhere.
“But you’re trying,” she gushed, undeterred. She took both of Ivy’s hands and squeezed them. “That’s what’s important. I know that you guys will work things out!”
Ivy wished she could share Deidre’s optimism, but it was tough to resolve anything with a man who refused to admit he may have made a mistake.
Dillon didn’t say two words to her at dinner.
That had been what she’d wanted all along. For him to leave her alone. So why did she feel so lousy?
Clearly it was the I-wish-I’d-never-married-you statement coming back to bite her in the behind. Not only had it been mean and uncalled for, it wasn’t the least bit true.
For every good day, they may have had two lousy ones. And if she had a dime for every night she’d cried herself to sleep she could buy herself a Mercedes.
But if not for Dillon, for their marriage—the good and the bad—she wouldn’t be the person she was today. She was stronger because of him. She may have learned the hard way, but she knew how to take care of herself. To beat any odds.
And for some stupid reason she couldn’t bring herself to tell him so.
The men went for a guys’ night out that evening while the women had the final fittings for their dresses. Six months ago Deidre had gone through fifty different styles of bridesmaid dresses before the Tweedles would agree on one they’d be willing to be seen in. And as Ivy spun in front of the mirror she had to admit the color and design were flattering. Not just flattering, but sexy.
She wondered what Dillon would think. If he would like the way she looked.
Not that she cared, of course.
“Gorgeous!” the seamstress gushed after making a slight adjustment to the spaghetti strap. Of course the Tweedles’ size ones were a perfect fit. They were like Stepford bridesmaids. Only scarier.
“We need our bride!” the seamstress called impatiently in the direction of the master bath, where Deidre had disappeared to put on her dress. She had been in there an awfully long time.
The bathroom door opened a crack and Deidre called back, “Ivy, I need you for a minute.” Then it slammed shut again.
The seamstress sighed loudly while Dee and Dum exchanged an exasperated look.
“At this rate we’re going to be here all night!” Dum groaned.
“I’ll see what the problem is,” Ivy told them. She lifted the skirt of her dress, so it wouldn’t drag on the floor as she crossed the room. She knocked lightly on the door. “Deidre? You okay?”
The door opened and a disembodied hand shot out. It latched on to Ivy’s arm and yanked her inside. She barely had time to pull her skirt in before Deidre shut and locked the door.
With her free hand Deidre was holding her partially fastened dress up, clutching the bodice to her breasts. Her face and chest were flushed and beads of sweat dribbled down the sides of her face and into her cleavage. She looked as though she’d just run a marathon.
“What’s wrong?” Ivy asked. “The natives are getting restless out there.”
Tears hovered just inside her eyelids. “I’m too fat.”
Ivy sighed. Not this again. “You are not too fat. You’re going to look beautiful.”
“No,” she insisted. “I mean I’m really too fat.” She turned, showing Ivy her back, and the gap between the two sides of the dress between the zipper. “I can’t get the dress zipped up.”
Oh, crap.
“I pulled and pulled until I heard the fabric start to rip.”
Yep. Ivy could see a small tear where the lace had begun to pull away from the silk.
Double crap.
“What am I going to do?” she half whispered, half shrieked. “I can’t go out there like this. If Blake’s mom finds out it doesn’t fit she will kill me! This thing cost a fortune!”
In Deidre’s defense, Blake’s mom was the one who had insisted Deidre order a size smaller, assuring her that it would be a perfect fit after she lost a few pounds. At least at the last fitting she’d been able to zip it up all the way. She’d have been fine if she didn’t eat, or move. Or breathe.
As far as Ivy was concerned Blake’s mother was getting exactly what she deserved for being such a demanding, controlling twit. But Ivy did not want to see Deidre unhappy.
“Turn around,” she ordered and her cousin complied, her lip clamped so hard between her teeth Ivy worried she might bite clear through. “Don’t worry. We’ll make it fit.”
She grasped the zipper tag. It was slightly disfigured from the workout Deidre had given it. “I want you to inhale and suck it in as far as you can. You ready?”
She nodded.
“On the count of three. One…two…three!”
Deidre sucked, and Ivy pulled for all she was worth. Deidre grunted as Ivy managed to get her zipped about halfway. Then there was an earsplitting rip, and the zipper tag popped loose and flew across the bathroom.
The little tear was now a gaping
