She nodded, but I could tell she didn't quite believe me.
Smart girl, I thought, almost chuckling in the process.
"Well," she said, picking up her plate. "I hope it goes well. Whatever you've got planned."
It wasn't anything special. I had a bunch of inventory coming in and a possible new hire to run the bakery a few times a week so that I could have a day or two off.
"Thanks," I murmured softly.
Amara hesitated, like she wanted to say something else. Her teeth caught her bottom lip and I had to force myself not to stare at her mouth.
"I'll see you later?" she asked finally, almost sounding hopeful.
My heart did something stupid in my chest and my dragon seemed to hum.
"Yeah," I said, my voice rough. "Definitely."
She smiled again, brighter this time, and headed for the door.
I watched her go, tracking every step down to the soft sway of her hips hidden beneath the cardigan.
God, the woman was absolutely perfection.
And in two weeks, she was going to find out I'd been lying to her.
And I had no idea if she'd ever forgive me.
5
AMARA
By the time the weekend had arrived, my mother was on my back about the dress that she'd gotten me. She wanted me to try it on and finally I'd relented only to find that it didn't fit. The emerald green dress clung to my breast and hips like a vengeful ex, refusing to let me go in all the wrong places.
Of course it doesn't fit,I thought.
I stood in front of my bedroom mirror, trying to zip up the back of the dress as if it was going to budge any further. I really wished that she'd consulted me before wasting her money.
"Come on," I muttered one more time, sucking in my stomach.
Naturally, the dress stayed put and I was out of breath from trying.
The dress was beautiful, I'd give her that. Emerald silk with delicate beading across the bodice. Elegant. Expensive-looking.
And at least two sizes too small.
My phone rang and from the distinctive ring tone, I already knew who was calling.
Amelia.
"Hi mom," I answered, still struggling with the zipper.
"Sweetheart! Did you try on the dress? Isn't it gorgeous?"
I looked at myself in the mirror. The fabric continued to strain across my hips. The bodice gaped where it should have hugged. I looked like a sausage someone had tried to stuff into a casing meant for something half its size.
"It's beautiful, Mom. But it doesn't fit."
She was silent on the other end for a moment before saying, "What do you mean it doesn't fit?"
