My mother pushed her plate aside and went to her happy place—meddling in her children’s lives. “Let’s go dress shopping soon. We’ll make a day of it—all us girls. Your sister will be a bridesmaid, of course. What colors are you thinking? Perci looks best in black, which won’t do for a wedding.” Her gaze locked on me like a missile with a target in sight. “You know, honey, you have a year. We’ll get you on a diet and—” “I can give you the name of my personal trainer,” Joel Allen chimed in. Kill. Me. Now.
