“I’ve decided to avoid weddings for the next few years.”

“You never did try on any of the dresses I put out for you,” Joanna accused as she worked on covering up my shiner, indicating the pile of clothes still spread across the bed behind us.

I sighed. “I duwanna.” I could see them in the mirror, a threatening assembly of girliness.

That got a snort from her. “You wore a skirt last night,” she pointed out. “In fact, you were wearing a dress when you got this black eye.”

“Ow,” I said.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “I forgot it must still be tender.”

“Yeah, well….” I tried to keep my face still, but my mouth wanted to twist up. I realized that I was very near to crying—again. “Dammit.” Specifically, damn period.

“You need any painkillers?” she asked.

I remembered not to shake my head, grunting a “no” instead.

“There’s one I really want to see you in — the blue-and-white one with the lace bodice.” She pointed vaguely with a tool that looked for all the world like a small kitchen sponge stained with beige grease.

“Bodice?” I asked.

“Chest, dummy,” she supplied.

“The one that looked like something you would wear to a wedding?”

“Exactly. I wore it to my cousin’s wedding in Oklahoma last year.”

“Oh,” I said. “Oklahoma.” For some reason, we both laughed.

“It would look so dramatic on you with your coloring. I sort of looked wilted in it.”

“So you want me to model it for you? I didn’t think you were that vindictive, Joanna.”

“Hah!” she said, switching from the sponge to using tiny brushes. “No, really, you’d look great.”

“I don’t think so,” I protested. “I’ve decided to avoid weddings for the next few years.”

“Afraid you might cry?”

“No. Afraid one of them might be mine.”

Joanna cackled. “As long as you’re not marrying Jake, I’m up for being one of your bridesmaids.”

“You’d look terrific in mint green,” I countered.

Joanna had to stop to cackle again.

I found myself grinning until she came back with, “Who says you’re not a girl, Petey-Gayle?”

“Hey!”

She snickered. “Don’t pout. It makes you twice as cute.”

I glared at Joanna’s reflection in the mirror, then noticed that I didn’t seem to have a shiner anymore. “Hey, wow,” I said, touching my cheek. “I guess you do know how to do this.”

“Toldja,” she said with a gesture like a stage magician revealing a surprise bouquet. “Now you’re going to try on that wedding dress for me.”

“Wedding dress?” I boggled a moment. “Don’t call it that,” I said, slightly horrified.

Then we had a bit of a struggle as Joanna pretended to be trying to undress me again. “Do this for me, Petey. I want to see just how much of a threat to me you are,” she mocked while poking me in the ribs.

“Stoppit! Stoppit!” I protested, but she was definitely reminding me that she was several inches taller and just as much of an athlete as I was. I might be stronger, though certainly not as much as before. “Okay, okay,” I finally gasped.

She instantly stopped tickling me, but by then, she had me out of my jacket and shirt, and I was sitting there wearing only my bra above the waist. The image in the mirror disturbed me.

“Get your jeans off, too,” she ordered while digging through the pile of clothes on the bed.

“I still don’t want to do this,” I grumbled.

“Tough,” she said. “I don’t have to put you in a headlock, do I?”

Okay, that was kind of funny, especially with the face she was making. I failed to resist a giggle.

She found the dress and tossed it at me.

“How do I put it on?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes. “Pull it over your head and down to your hips,” she directed.

“I’m wearing makeup now. I don’t want to get it on this lace,” I stalled.

“It’s got a boatneck,” she said.

“Boat neck?”

“Just be careful,” she advised.

I put my hand to my neck. I hadn’t thought of it before, but it definitely seemed more slender than a month ago.

Something else occurred to me, and I failed to suppress another giggle. “You know who has a real boat neck?” I asked. “Coach Wilson.” I put my head into the dress, carefully holding it away from my made-up eye.

“Yeah, yeah,” she agreed, helping me by yanking the dress past my waist to where the skirt fell around my thighs.

I stared at my reflection while Joanna made adjustments to how the garment draped around my shape. The lace made my bust look fuller, and the cut of the whole thing made my waist appear thinner, my hips wider.

“Yikes,” I said quietly.

Just then, the phone rang.

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