Chapter One
Daisy
“That dress looks a little snug on you.” My mom pinches the mauve fabric at my waist, drawing it toward her an inch. “When we had the fitting, the gap was bigger. This makes your boobs look too big.”
“I’m sorry.” I rotate my shoulders inward to take the focus off my chest. Since I turned fourteen, my size has been an issue. If I gain a pound, my mom can tell. It’s in my chest. And everywhere else.
“I knew you should have skipped the rehearsal dinner.” She lets go of the stretched material. It’s forgiving, but she isn’t. “You’re going to take all the attention away from your sister.”
“Mom….” I inwardly roll my eyes because if I don’t keep my face devoid of emotion–that will be the next lecture in my future. And I’d rather have another plate of Bourbon Blueberry Cobbler from last night’s dinner. “No one will notice me. Everyone’s eyes will be on Julia. She’s the bride, and it’s her day.”
Every day is my sister’s day. At least according to my parents. I love my sister, but it’s a love/hate relationship. A girl can only be compared so often to someone else before she gets a complex.
“Did you say something?” Julia brushes her hand over the row of beads at her waist. Her slender, less than three percent body fat, waist. The material shines under the lights of the church’s changing room. Her hair, makeup, nails, and everything else are perfect.
My sister is four years older and has just passed the bar exam. I can’t make it past a cupcake bar without failing my diet.
If only Zoe was here, she could save me from the constant onslaught of insults. Or, at least, we could get sloshed at the reception. But no, she went on a family trip to St. Lucia for the last two weeks before college resumes. I would have been invited, except for this blessed wedding.
“I said you look beautiful.” And she does. She’s gorgeous, and I’m–me. The only thing I have going for me is big tits. That has brought a few guys around who were into tits and ass versus skin and bones. But I’ve not gone all the way.
I’m looking for the whole package. A guy who can walk the walk and talk the talk. A guy like all the book boyfriends I fantasize about.
She tilts her head sideways and sighs, “Thank you.”
The room is covered in discarded clothing, makeup, and hair supplies, and it smells like a department store fragrance counter where someone sprayed each bottle at least once.
“I told Daisy she should have laid off the brisket and seafood.” My mom marches over to my sister and arranges the veil along her back.
Julia’s two best friends, Bridgette and Stacy, and our cousin, Heather, turn and gape at me. They’re the spitting image of my sister–thin, wispy, blonde, blue-eyed, and ex-cheerleaders. Maybe my dad spread his seed behind my mom’s back, and I was switched at birth. It would explain a lot of things. One is that I’m the only brunette with green eyes in the family.
“Mom, I would prefer we didn’t discuss my weight in front of everyone.”
“What goes in your mouth goes to your hips,” Heather says, giving me a shitty look. God, I hate her. I don’t care if she is my cousin. She’s the epitome of an evil witch. My mom might lecture me about my weight, but Heather has no qualms about shoving it in my face. “And those hips don’t lie about all the carbs you’ve been wolfing down.”
And there it is.
“Heather….” My mom glares at her. “That’s enough.”
“I’m sorry, Aunt April.” She purses her lips together. “I won’t insult Daisy again. I promise.”
“Thank you, dear.” My mom beams at Heather like she’s just won a gold medal, but she pats her arm rather than lifting it high.
“I was only cautioning her because if she keeps it up, she will always be alone.”
I snap my mouth shut. God, I want to throat punch her.
Someone knocks on the door, and we all turn. “Is everyone decent?” The man’s deep voice leaves a trail of goosebumps along my skin. He sounds like a sexy narrator. Now all I need is for him to say, ‘Good girl,’ and my day will be complete.
“Yes.” The trio of blondes, excluding my sister, giggle and waggle their eyebrows.
“We’re decent. Today.” Bridgette winks at Julia. Her hair is piled high on her head, with little trendles kissing her neck. She looks like a porcelain doll.
“Stop.” My sister glares and elbows her hard in the ribs.
“Ouch. Why did you do that?”
“Never mind.” Julia shakes her head and brushes past our mom, opening the door. “We’re ready.”