A crawling sensation hits the back of my neck and I scratch the annoyance away. She’s just my fake girlfriend, and I’m only going to talk to her.
“Hey.” I sit down by Lyndi.
Her head slowly rises. I’m afraid she will be upset, but instead, she smiles. “Hey, boyfriend.”
“How are you?” I ask hesitantly.
Her smile falters ever so slightly. “Better now.”
I pull up some grass, best to just come out with it. “So, my parents have dinner at their house every Sunday night,” I say. “I know I said you wouldn’t have to do anything other than attend the gala as my girlfriend, but I was wondering if you—”
Her face twists and contorts.
I pause. I kind of thought she knew where I was going with this request.
Then she sneezes.
Twenty Three
Lyndi
Ijustpeed.
Ward asked me to come to family dinner, and I peed my pants.
Why didn’t I cross my legs?Darn motherhood, reminding me I’m not actually a superhero.
“Um, hold that thought.” I stop him. “I uh, need to pee.”
He frowns, but I stand, and waddle, in the fastest—and by far most awkward fashion—to the restrooms. “Please let it only be a little pee.”
A teenage kid gives me a funny look and scoots off the sidewalk.
Good.One less person in my way.
I call Maddie and she answers on the first ring.
“Hey, I’m almost there.”
“Please tell me you have an extra pair of pants in your car,” I whisper.
“I’ve got my yoga pants. Why?”
“You know why,” I hiss into the phone. “Meet me in the bathroom with them, please.”
Five minutes later, I’m squeezing my motherly hips into leggings made for a fashion model. I’m bulging in all the wrong places. But it’s better than the alternative. Slightly.
I step out of the stall and Maddie whistles. “Dang. Look at you. You’ve got curves.”
I pat the saddlebags hanging onto my thighs. “What? These old things? Got ‘em half off at Thanksgiving.”
“Oh shut up. You look gorgeous.”
I don’t feel gorgeous. I feel like someone wrapped plastic wrap around all the fat in my lower extremities and that’s all anyone will see now.
“Do you have like a sweater or something I can tie around my waist?” I turn my body in the mirror, trying to find my best angle.
There isn’t one.
