“A friend?” I didn’t mean to sound so skeptical, but she and I weren’t exactly the book club type. It had just been me and her. At least since Andrew had…well, since Andrew.

“A client,” she said.

That was new. Brand, spanking, completely against the rules new. I opened my mouth—to warn her, to chastise her—but she was a big girl, and I wasn’t quite that much of a hypocrite. In fact, that meant she was now living with a guy too, although I doubted he could pay her enough to do his laundry.

“So, did you bring me something fancy?” I asked.

“Some of my best stuff,” she said. “What’s it for?”

I sighed. “Colin’s taking me to the ballet.”

“Seriously?” She whistled. “Classy.”

“You see the problem.”

She laughed. “What—is he trying to impress you?”

“Not exactly. His sister is in the ballet. A dancer. We’re going to opening night, and then we’re going to meet her and Colin’s brother after.”

She whistled. “He doesn’t do anything half-assed, does he? Well, I brought three different options. Come on.”

We crept up the creaking stairs, past Bailey’s half-open door, and into the bedroom.

I immediately rejected the elegant, black, form-fitting dress, knowing it wouldn’t flatter my lack of curves. Shelly and I were the same size, but if her body type was Tinkerbell, mine was Peter Pan.

Next was a gown with a sequined silver bodice and gray, gauzy skirts. I’d been pregnant during my prom and felt no need to re-create the experience now. Pass.

The last one I had never seen before. Pink and silky with a modest neckline, the fabric gathered below the bust and then flared out into asymmetrical curves ending below my knees, almost like petals.

“Oh,” I said, awestruck.

“You like it?” Shelly asked.

“I do, but—” I glanced at her, a bit surprised. It was so bright, so flirty, and she hated to be the cliché of her profession.

She looked pleased. “It’s for you.”

I opened my mouth, but she cut my protests short. “No complaining. And no calculating how many bags of diapers this dress could pay for. You don’t need to worry about that anymore, remember?”

“Well, she still needs to poop,” I muttered, but it did nothing to mask my delight. How long had it been since I’d had new clothes? Plastic flip-flops from Target didn’t quite count.

I put it on—perfection. It was pretty and feminine and everything I’d always wanted to be but wasn’t. Of course Shelly had known. I wanted to hug her, but she wasn’t really a fan of touching.

“Thank you.” I gave my skirts a flick, enjoying the way they swished against my bare legs. “You’re like my fairy godmother. Now I can go to the ball.”

“But you already bagged the prince,” she said lightly.