Ivy reached across the table and grabbed her friend’s hand. “Listen to me, Phoebe. You are a beautiful girl. Inside and out. You have those gorgeous dark eyes—and those lashes of yours, they’re like Bambi’s. You’re smart and you’re kind, and you’re loyal, and that’s what Cody must love about you.”

“No.” Phoebe shook her head. “You don’t understand. Cody doesn’t know the real me, because I’ve been lying to him.”

“About what?”

“Everything!” Phoebe wailed. She covered her face with her hands. “All of it. It’s all a lie. And now he’s going to see the real me, and when he does, he’ll break it off. And it’s all my fault.”

“Whoa,” Ivy said. The waitress paused by their table with the coffeepot poised, but Ivy quickly waved her away.

“Come on, now. It can’t be all that bad. So you told him a fib about your weight or something? Big deal. If he’s the man you say he is, he won’t care about that.”

Phoebe lowered her hands. Her face was red and splotchy and tear streaked. “Cody didn’t fall in love with the real me. He fell in love with a photo of some random girl I found online. She’s got long blond hair and she’s about a size six. I think she’s a model in Sweden or something.”

“Oh.” Ivy was speechless.

“I know, right?” Phoebe blew her nose on a paper napkin. “I can see from your expression that you’re disgusted with me. And you’re right. I am pond scum. Lying to a man serving our country. Totally despicable.”

“You’re not pond scum, and I’m not disgusted with you,” Ivy said mildly. “But what are you going to do?”

“The only thing I can do. I’m going to break it off. I’ll think of a reason. Maybe tell him I’m joining a convent. Or that I have leprosy.”

Phoebe’s face brightened for a moment. “I could tell him I’ve got the flu. I’m infectious! Put off seeing him for another week or so. Just until I’ve lost the last ten pounds.”

The waitress returned with the coffeepot and Ivy held out her mug. She waited until the server had moved on to the next table.

“Do you really want a relationship that’s based on a lie?”

“Yes!”

Ivy fixed her with a stern stare.

“Okay, maybe not. But I don’t know what else to do. I’ve screwed everything up, and I know I’m going to lose him.”

“How about just telling him the truth?”

“No.” Phoebe reached for a napkin from the tabletop dispenser because the tears were flowing again. “I can’t face him. I’m so ashamed and embarrassed.” She took her phone from her pocketbook. “He’s called me twice already this morning. He sent flowers to me at the office! The most beautiful potted poinsettia.”

“Call him back,” Ivy said firmly. “It’s time to face the music. Even if it’s humiliating. You owe him the truth. A man that sends you flowers at work—that’s a man worth keeping. Worth fighting for. Once he meets you in person, he’ll see the real you. He’ll fall in love with you all over again, because you’re way better than some skinny blond Swedish bitch.”