“Jake and her son, Adam, who was two years older, used to ice-skate in the center rink. Jake was around ten at the time. The ice rink held a lot of fond memories for me. Kacey needed a mother-of-the-bride dress, as her daughter was getting married in the summer, and she’d decided to start the search early. “I hate this!” Kacey declared, studying herself in the dressing room mirror, twisting around to study her backside. Her shoulders slumped forward. “I look like a dumpy middle-aged woman.” “You... are a dumpy middle-aged woman,” I reminded her, shaking my head. “We both are.” “No one needs a friend who speaks the truth,” Kacey joked. “Come on, let’s go have lunch. I need a break.” I was more than happy to agree. It took far more stamina than I realized to shop for a mother-of-the-bride dress. It’d been a long time since I’d spent two or three hours shopping for just the perfect outfit. Since the divorce I rarely went out and definitely had no need for formal attire.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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