Read Online She's All Tied Up: Club 3, Book 2 by Cathryn Cade - Free Book Online
Authors: Cathryn Cade
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that would work.”
“No, really, I—” Carlie began. Be a fill-in bridesmaid? A last-minute pinch-hitter? No, thank you very much.
“Of course, you’d have to lose a little weight,” her mother went on in a rush. “To fit the bridesmaid dress. But you could do that. After all, you have until November. That’s four months.”
Carlie stared, her mother’s words ringing in her ears. Paula smiled encouragingly, eyes wide.
“She doesn’t need to lose any weight,” her father protested. He laid his hand over Carlie’s and squeezed, his grip warm and damp but reassuring.
Carlie barely felt it. The salad and wine knotted in her stomach, and she had to swallow hard to keep it down. Fire climbed her chest, her throat and into her face. Humiliation and rage poured up through her in a scalding wave.
“Tiffany said I can be her bridesmaid, if I lose weight ?” she repeated numbly. This was why she hadn’t been invited in the first place, because she was too fat to stand beside the toothpick bride and her friends? Stacy was so skinny Carlie was pretty sure she was anorexic.
Her father looked up, roll halfway to his mouth, alerted by her tone. Her mother cocked her head, her lipsticked mouth in a sympathetic moue. “You can do it, sweetie. I just know you can. You’re going to that gym and working out. Just cut back a little more, and the pounds will pour off.”
Paula’s gaze flicked away from Carlie’s as she clearly sensed she’d gone too far. She popped out of her chair, grabbing the salad bowl away with maniacal cheer. “Now, let’s have some chicken. I made it extra-light for you.”
She whipped the lid off the casserole, and Carlie and her father stared in silence at the chicken breasts huddled in the dish, each with a tiny dab of green-flecked white on their skinless surfaces.
“Where’s the damn sauce?” George demanded, his voice rising. “That’s not chicken tarragon, it’s—it’s naked poultry. It’s a desecration of fine cuisine.”
“It’s low calorie,” his wife hissed to him.
Carlie shoved back her chair with a loud grate of metal on wood decking. “You know, I’m…just not hungry anymore,” she said, which was the truth. “Mother, go get the pan of sauce I saw heating on the back of the range and feed it to Dad. He’s right—that chicken is a cooking felony.”
Her parents stared, her father in loving dismay and her mother with guilty determination and a hint of pleasure at the news that her daughter was full on only salad. Carlie rose and set her napkin carefully by her plate.
“You can tell Tiffany I won’t be able to be her bridesmaid,” she said. “I just like my cupcakes too much, y’know?”
She watched with satisfaction as her mother flinched. Then she walked around the table, kissed her father’s cheek, air-kissed in the vicinity of her mother’s cheek and walked away.
“Sweetie, don’t go,” her father called. “We’ll have double sauce, whaddya say?”
Carlie didn’t stop. She loved her father, but if she had to stay in the same airspace with her mother right now, she was going to do or say something she could never take back. She didn’t know what, but it would be bad.
And then she’d probably dump half the pan of tarragon sauce on her chicken and gobble it down even though she didn’t really want it anymore, in some childish can-if-I-want-to act of defiance. That was how her mother affected her.
Chapter Five
Carlie drove back down Bull Mountain in a state of alternating hot and cold misery. This hurt was too big even to summon up any satisfying fantasies of vengeance and tearful remorse.
Her mother still , now that Carlie was an adult, a successful career woman, chose to define her by her figure. Which Paula considered too fat. Too fat to get a man, too fat to stand in front of family and friends as her brother got married. Too fat, too fat, too fat . Not good enough the way she was, even though Carlie took after her father’s side
“No, really, I—” Carlie began. Be a fill-in bridesmaid? A last-minute pinch-hitter? No, thank you very much.
“Of course, you’d have to lose a little weight,” her mother went on in a rush. “To fit the bridesmaid dress. But you could do that. After all, you have until November. That’s four months.”
Carlie stared, her mother’s words ringing in her ears. Paula smiled encouragingly, eyes wide.
“She doesn’t need to lose any weight,” her father protested. He laid his hand over Carlie’s and squeezed, his grip warm and damp but reassuring.
Carlie barely felt it. The salad and wine knotted in her stomach, and she had to swallow hard to keep it down. Fire climbed her chest, her throat and into her face. Humiliation and rage poured up through her in a scalding wave.
“Tiffany said I can be her bridesmaid, if I lose weight ?” she repeated numbly. This was why she hadn’t been invited in the first place, because she was too fat to stand beside the toothpick bride and her friends? Stacy was so skinny Carlie was pretty sure she was anorexic.
Her father looked up, roll halfway to his mouth, alerted by her tone. Her mother cocked her head, her lipsticked mouth in a sympathetic moue. “You can do it, sweetie. I just know you can. You’re going to that gym and working out. Just cut back a little more, and the pounds will pour off.”
Paula’s gaze flicked away from Carlie’s as she clearly sensed she’d gone too far. She popped out of her chair, grabbing the salad bowl away with maniacal cheer. “Now, let’s have some chicken. I made it extra-light for you.”
She whipped the lid off the casserole, and Carlie and her father stared in silence at the chicken breasts huddled in the dish, each with a tiny dab of green-flecked white on their skinless surfaces.
“Where’s the damn sauce?” George demanded, his voice rising. “That’s not chicken tarragon, it’s—it’s naked poultry. It’s a desecration of fine cuisine.”
“It’s low calorie,” his wife hissed to him.
Carlie shoved back her chair with a loud grate of metal on wood decking. “You know, I’m…just not hungry anymore,” she said, which was the truth. “Mother, go get the pan of sauce I saw heating on the back of the range and feed it to Dad. He’s right—that chicken is a cooking felony.”
Her parents stared, her father in loving dismay and her mother with guilty determination and a hint of pleasure at the news that her daughter was full on only salad. Carlie rose and set her napkin carefully by her plate.
“You can tell Tiffany I won’t be able to be her bridesmaid,” she said. “I just like my cupcakes too much, y’know?”
She watched with satisfaction as her mother flinched. Then she walked around the table, kissed her father’s cheek, air-kissed in the vicinity of her mother’s cheek and walked away.
“Sweetie, don’t go,” her father called. “We’ll have double sauce, whaddya say?”
Carlie didn’t stop. She loved her father, but if she had to stay in the same airspace with her mother right now, she was going to do or say something she could never take back. She didn’t know what, but it would be bad.
And then she’d probably dump half the pan of tarragon sauce on her chicken and gobble it down even though she didn’t really want it anymore, in some childish can-if-I-want-to act of defiance. That was how her mother affected her.
Chapter Five
Carlie drove back down Bull Mountain in a state of alternating hot and cold misery. This hurt was too big even to summon up any satisfying fantasies of vengeance and tearful remorse.
Her mother still , now that Carlie was an adult, a successful career woman, chose to define her by her figure. Which Paula considered too fat. Too fat to get a man, too fat to stand in front of family and friends as her brother got married. Too fat, too fat, too fat . Not good enough the way she was, even though Carlie took after her father’s side
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