“Zumor?”
“A zit that feels like a tumor.”
She chuckles, then pulls on my hands until I’m sitting up. “It can’t be that bad,” she says, but then she takes my face and tilts it upward to get a closer look. “Okay, it is that bad. But we can airbrush it out. I’m a whiz with Instagram filters.”
“I don’t want to be airbrushed.”
“Do you want to look like a unicorn?”
I scowl at her, then drop back onto the mattress and pull a pillow over my face. “Can we just…cancel? Reschedule?”
“We cannot. You’re leaving for New York tomorrow, and he’s leaving the day after. It’s now or never, kid.”
I toss off the pillow and meet her gaze. “What if I’m really,reallyscared?”
Her expression softens. “Scared enough not to go through with it?”
I think about leaving Georgia, and my resolve hardens. “Not that scared.”
She grins. “Good. Then let’s put some makeup on that face and get this party started.”
Fifteen minutes later, Anna has miraculously pulled four different outfit choices out of the stack of clothes that are cuter than any combinations I tried on my own, adding a wrap dress and a pair of heels she pulled out of her own closet. She’s made my zumor almost undetectable with her exceptional makeup skills, and she’s hyped me up to the point that I almost feel like I can do this.
“Just think,” Anna says as she steers me toward the door. “Youaren’tgoing to miss Poppy’s seventh birthday this fall. Isn’t that exciting?”
“Good. This is good,” I say. “What else?”
“Olive’s first dance recital,” Anna says. “And Fiona’s first steps.”
“I’ll probably hear her first word,” I say, hope springing in my chest, and Anna smiles.
“You totally will.”
I slide my hands down the front of my dress—Anna’s dress. “You’re sure starting with the dress is the right choice?”
“It totally is. You look gorgeous. Absolutely worthy of a hot hockey player.”
I groan as Anna nudges me out the door. I still can’t believe Carter heard my ranting, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.
Dinner is already on the table by the time we join everyone else. “You’re sitting here, Aunt Sarah,” Poppy says, motioning to a seat right next to Carter.
I glance over at him as I sit, and he offers me a small smile.
“Sorry about all that earlier,” I say.
“Sorry about what?”
Is he really going to make me say it? I swallow against the nerves in my throat. “Just all my…ranting.”
He gives me a quizzical look. “I don’t remember any ranting. I just remember you walking in here wearing a great dress, looking really beautiful.”
I gaze into his warm blue eyes, and something in my chest loosens, my whole body softening.
“Aunt Sarah?” Poppy asks, and I look across the table to meet my niece’s eyes.
“What is it, sweetie?”
“Is Carter your boyfriend?”
