“Seriously, you need to go shopping before you go on this trip,” Jenna muttered as she dug through my dresser drawers. “How are you single and have absolutely nothing sexy?” Her aggravated voice had me rolling my eyes.

“Oh, let me think. How about the fact that I’m divorced, I’m over thirty, I’ve got three kids still living at home, I have no prospects for a relationship, and I don’t have the body type that the clothes you wear are made for.” I knew the words were snippy, but I couldn’t prevent them from falling from my lips.

Jenna leaned back on her heels, studying me with serious eyes. “Do you seriously believe any of that matters?” Her voice had gone from exasperated to concerned. “Em, if I came to you saying that, what would your response be?”

I squirmed for a moment, not wanting to answer, and hedged a bit. “You’re not divorced and you don’t have kids. You have plenty of prospects; hell, you were telling me the other night about that new girl you were seeing.”

Jenna flipped me off. “Yes, I told you about her. No one I’ve met has been true relationship prospects. We go on a few dates, we talk and laugh, we may even have enough of a connection to go to bed together. That’s as far as it goes.” She leaned forward, resting her hands on her knees. “As for the divorce and the kids. No, you’re right. I haven’t been lucky enough to have kids.” I winced, knowing that was a sore spot for her. “Plus, I’m older than you. So you can’t even pull the age card. Even if you think you’re heavy, it doesn’t mean that others will think so. I’ve had girls and guys turn me down because they don’t like slender women, don’t like that I don’t have larger breasts or a butt. I’ve been told I look like a young boy.” She indicated her long, flowing hair with a wave of her hand and realization dawned.

“That’s why you wouldn’t cut your hair, even though you said you loved mine when it was short.”

She just nodded in confirmation. “Em, all of us have things we don’t like about our looks, even the most confident of us. We can always find flaws. I bet if you sat down with those three guys of yours, you’d see they had their own insecurities as well. Maybe it’s a crooked tooth, hair in a weird spot, a mole, a cowlick; maybe they simply believe they aren’t photogenic. It doesn’t matter who it is, everyone has something, even the most gorgeous of us.”

I tried to shrug the words off. I’d heard them before; I assumed most people had at some point in their lives. It was still impossible to believe, though, that the most gorgeous people had flaws they were sensitive of. That their flaws were equal in weight to what I perceived as my own. It was easy to see the good and the beauty in others, yet impossible to see in ourselves. “Look, it’s just a friend thing. I don’t need a sexy wardrobe.”

“First, all women need a wardrobe they can feel sexy in. It doesn’t have to be for men, it can just be for yourself.” Jenna went back to rummaging through my clothes. “Secondly, it may be an amusement park, but there’s a waterpark there, so you’ll at least need a cute suit. Plus, you may end up going to dinner or for drinks or something. It’s summer, let’s make some memories!” I winced at the peppy enthusiasm in her voice. She seemed to be even more excited about this trip than I was.

“Just toss in some capris, give me some t-shirts, throw some underwear in on top, and we’ll be good.” Ok, not exactly true. I was as worried about how I would look as she was, but if I let on about it, she’d drag me to the mall and I wouldn’t get anything accomplished. I fiercely stood behind the view that malls were inherently evil. Most of the clothing was ugly, nothing fit correctly or seemed flattering off of the mannequins, everything was overpriced, you ended up buying way more than you actually needed and hated it when you got home, the lighting was odd making everything look either far better or far worse than it actually was… I could rant about it for an eternity.

Jenna stuck her tongue out at me. “You’re not fooling me, you know. You’re nervous as hell. You can fake it all you want to, but you want a piece of all three of them.”

Giving up, I fell back on the bed, dropping the clothing I had been folding and putting away after Jenna’s frenzied digging. “Jenna, I don’t know what to do. Maybe I should just go hook up with someone before this stupid trip. I mean, I keep thinking there are some sparks there, that I see a look, or a touch, or a flirty comment. There’s three of them though, and one of me. Who would I even pick?”

“What makes you think you have to pick just one?” Jenna turned on her heel, looking up at me from where she half-knelt on the floor. I scowled and threw my pillow at her.

“Of course I have to pick just one.” I paused for a minute. “Don’t I?”

“It’s not like you’re asking them to marry you,” Jenna pointed out, direct as always. “You just want to have some attention, go on a few dates, see what happens. Maybe nothing long term will work out between you and them. You could just decide you’re better off friends or even just friends with benefits.”

Still in my snit and cranky with nerves and stress, I snapped back, “What if it did work out with all of them? What if I liked all of them, and they all liked me? How could I ask them to break up their friendship over me?”

“Why would you have to break up the friendship?” Jenna’s casual question was accompanied by a nonchalant wave of her hand.

“Huh?” Completely inelegant, I didn’t know how else to respond.

“There are all kinds of relationships out there. I’ve been with girls and guys. I’ve been with both at the same time.” Jenna held up a green tank top with lace on the edges, considering it before tossing it into her reject pile.

“That wasn’t a relationship, though.” I threw the words at her, too irritated to be polite. “It’s different when it’s just for fun.”

“Why?” Jenna asked, blunt as ever. “Why should it be different? You trust each other enough to go to bed as a group, why not take the next step and trust each other enough to try a relationship as a group? In your case, all three are already close friends. They are a package deal as friends; maybe it’d be the same for dating.”

I groaned, grabbing the pillow to clamp it over my face. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves here.”

“You do tend to do that,” Jenna retorted, and I lobbed the pillow at her.

“They invited me to come to hang out, just like all of our other get togethers. Nothing was said about a date. We’re staying in separate rooms. It’s too early to think about what I’d do in a relationship when I don’t even know if any of them would even want a relationship other than friendship.” I shoved myself up out of the bed, grimacing at my reflection in the mirror. I hesitated for a moment, before I squeezed my eyes shut, ready to make a deal with the devil. “Maybe a little spruce wouldn’t hurt anything,” I muttered.

Jenna nearly fell as she shot up from the floor. “Yes! Just a little spruce. You’re gorgeous, we just need to make you see it.”

“Ok, let’s not get crazy here,” I warned, holding up a hand to ward her off. “No severe changes.” I waited for her to repeat after me, which she did, although grudgingly. “No mall.”

“Seriously?” Jenna griped, before raising her hands in exasperation and repeating after me. “No mall.” She considered for a moment, raking her gaze over me. “Let’s stop by my salon and have them trim your hair a bit. We don’t have time for highlights or anything, but a trim will do you good.” I grumbled, but acquiesced, letting myself be led from the room as she rambled about her plans.

I fussed with my shirt, tugging at the unfamiliar fit, the way the material lay against my skin rather than falling away. My hair flew into my eyes and I grumbled as I tucked it back behind my ears.

“Oh, enough whining,” Jenna groused from the driver’s seat. “You look adorable.” The last several hours had been one torture after another, and I was ready to be dropped off. Jenna’s stylist had taken me on as his “special project” and proceeded to run the full gamut on me. I had been buffed, plucked, shaped, squeezed, and tweaked for hours. My hair was still long, but according to Jenna and Stephen-the-Stylist, it had more shape to it after the dead stuff and weight were removed. Jenna had insisted on purchasing me a full make-up set after her stylist showed me how to use them, although I had assured her it would not see much use, as the only makeup I still owned had been sitting in the bottom of a box for the last several years.

“I spent way too much money. You’re a bad influence,” I grumbled. Jenna’s grin in response was wide and full of mischief.

“Of course I’m a bad influence, it’s my job as your sister.”

“I can’t believe I listened to you. I don’t need any of that stuff.” I thought over the capris, the shirts, the swimsuit, the dresses… When would I even wear half that stuff? I swore my bank account was calling me some very vile names as it took hit after hit.

“Even if you don’t go out with anyone else, you and I can go out. Hell, you didn’t even own a swimsuit, and you know the kids will want to go at some point.”

I reached instinctively for my phone. Another quick call while we were out, and I had nearly asked Jenna to turn back around. I had been right, the trip to Disneyland had definitely brightened their spirits, and even Brooke had been lively and full of stories. The pictures that they sent just weren’t enough, though. I wanted them back home with me, and there were still weeks left. A part of me was upset that they seemed to be settling in so well, as horrible as it made me feel to think that way. I was glad they weren’t pining for me, that they were making positive memories, yet I still wanted them to miss me.

“The kids do miss you, Em.” Jenna easily read my thoughts as she glanced from the road to my face. “You know they’re going to be completely thrilled when they get home, and you’ll be ready for a day away again when their screaming fights start up over which character actually deserves to win.” I chuckled at the accuracy of that. The things that the kids found to fight over could be incredibly ridiculous and bring on a migraine quickly.

“I know. Really, I do. Cal was so excited to meet Buzz Lightyear. I wish I would have gotten a chance to see it. Jake was laughing. Brooke even smiled. It’s just been a while since we had that, and it hurts that I couldn’t give them that here.” I trailed off, worry gnawing at me.

“Enough of that.” Jenna’s voice was sharp. “They’ve had that kind of excitement here too. Brooke has smiled plenty, and as much as she’s loathe to admit it, she’s making friends and getting adjusted to the town she wants to go to college in; it will give her a head start. She’s just being a normal teenager and dealing with the stress of all of this by giving you hell.” She threw a hand up in the air, waving it in her exasperation. “I was like that to Mom. You were too. It’s just a teenage thing. Cal is resilient. He’s happy to have you, to have me, to have his friends.”

“Jake’s struggling, though,” I admitted, tightening my hands into fists. It was so hard for him. Harder in some ways than the other two. Cal was still so little, he had no trouble making new friends or living in new ways; everything was exciting to him. Brooke would already be leaving at this time next year, and though I knew it was a struggle, she could at least grasp what was going on, make a kind of rational decision about it, as well as stay in touch with her friends via the internet and social media.

Poor Jake, he didn’t have that. He didn’t have the limitless optimism and innocence of his brother, nor the rationality of his sister. His friendships required constant interaction to maintain, and other ten-year-old boys weren’t the best at in-depth telephone conversations and texting. Although he was making friends here, the process was very slow for him. Jake was shy, and kids could be cruel.

“Em, give it time.” Jenna’s voice had softened slightly. “You’ve been here two months, that’s it. Of course he’s still struggling. It was the end of the school year. Everyone was focused on their summer plans and clubs were already mostly over. He’s not going to be the only new kid next year, or the only kid from a home with divorced parents.” I snorted in response. “Ok, possibly the only divorced parents in your situation. You’re going to tell me it’s harder coming from that than being a foster kid, coming from an abusive background?” I winced when she put it that bluntly. “I’m not discounting how hard it’s going to be on Jake or the others. I’m just saying that you did this because you thought it was best. Your house sold; it didn’t make sense to stay down there for another year and ride out an apartment lease. The timing was bad, but it is what it is. He’ll do better. Don’t expect miracles, though.”

I could only grimace. I knew what she said was logical, but my heart—and my motherly instincts—disagreed. I knew time was supposed to heal a wound, but what about all of the other wounds you collected in the process? Nothing was fair. I adjusted my shirt again as we pulled up, breathing in deeply at the thought of how many bags I had to carry in. Well, if I could do it without injury it would be a win. If I could get everything new washed, dried, folded or hung within twenty-four hours, it would be a minor miracle. I hated laundry. I pulled the first set of bags from the back seat, tucking my hair back behind my ear again, irritated by the way it fell in soft waves around my face. I turned, intending to cart the first load inside, only to catch the unfamiliar heel of my sandal against the curb and go sprawling. As the ground rushed up to meet me I closed my eyes and threw out my arms, hoping my bags would block the worst of my fall, especially so that I could then kill Jenna for convincing me that I could wear heels without permanently maiming myself.

“Umph.” The air rushed out of me in a grunt as something caught my arm, and I rolled slightly, the impact of the fall not nearly as bad as I had expected.

“You okay?” A breathless voice wheezed out. Oh, no. I opened my eyes to stare into Alex’s electric blue ones, realizing I was almost straddling him completely in this position, bags spread out around us, their contents sprawled across the ground. “Sorry I couldn’t catch you quicker, you went down fast.”

I scrambled, attempting to extricate myself from him and the mess of the bags, yet I only seemed to be making things worse in my panic. My hands were clasped from above, and I looked up into Max’s laughing eyes.

“He slid right into third there trying to catch you.” With a yank, and more strength than I realized he possessed, Max lifted me off of his friend, dusting me off slightly. “We saw you pull up and could see the bags from the window, so we came out to offer our services as pack mules. Alex saw you start to trip and took the dive.” I swore he muttered “Lucky bastard.” but I realized either my ears were still ringing from the fall or I was starting to hallucinate.

“Are you hurt?” I turned my attention back to Alex, hoping to help him from the ground, but he was already standing and brushing off.

Alex chuckled. “It would take more than you on my lap to hurt me.”

I snorted my reply, turning to pick up my bags. A gleeful chuckle had me turning to glare at Jenna who was leaning against the car door watching the show. She arched a brow, glancing at the ground, and I groaned as I followed her line of site. I guess falling wouldn’t have been that bad, at least then I may have knocked myself unconscious and could have avoided all of this embarrassment.

Sprawled all around us were the pieces of lingerie that, in my crazed shopping high, Jenna had convinced me I just had to buy, stating that every woman deserved sexy silk against her skin. Now the panties, bras, and slips were spread out in a confetti of color, including one pair, I noticed with intense humiliation, that was caught directly across Alex’s shoe.

I knew my face was neon red, as Alex had just bent to pick up the scrap of turquoise silk and lace that had been sprawled over his shoe. “I’m so sorry.” I scrambled to grab the panties that he now held. He considered them curiously, pink coloring his cheeks and the tips of his ears. I glared at Jenna’s continuous laughter as I bent to pick up the rest of the spilled lingerie, shoving them heedlessly back into bags. Tanned hands reached out, helping me to pick up the mess.

“I’m just glad you aren’t injured,” Alex added as he and Max both picked up pieces, folding them neatly before placing them in my bags.

“Not that we minded the show.” Max’s grin was wicked as he held up a silken slip in a deep plum, trimmed with silver ribbons. “You have very good taste. Jewel tones suit you.” He faced me, pausing for a moment, his hands still full of silk. “You look different.” The words were a murmur. “Doesn’t she look different?” He nudged Alex who had been stacking my bags neatly on the sidewalk. Alex turned to assess me as well, his head cocked to the side as he studied me. I squirmed under their gaze, aware there was no way my color could get any brighter. “You look like a girl.” The words sounded almost offended as he spit them out. Alex reached over and slapped him upside the head, causing Jenna to howl with laughter at the sight of the three of us.

“You look very nice.” Alex’s words were a warm murmur. “Feminine and delicate. It’s a change from your usual style.” He reached out a hand as if to stroke his fingers through my hair before pulling back and ruffling his own. “You wear both looks well.”

“How is it fair that women can wear shorts and sports jerseys, no make-up, and their hair in a mess and be cute and also wear…” Max trailed off, pausing for a moment before gesturing to indicate my blouse and capris. “That, and still look adorable. It isn’t fair. Guys get grunge and that’s it.”

“That’s not true. You and Alex look great in your suits.” The words were out before I could stop them, and I forced myself not to clamp my hands over my mouth.

Max rolled his eyes. “We look like penguins. Stuffy, boring, uptight penguins.”

Jenna’s laugh was low as she made her way around the car, her mirth apparently more in check. “Em’s right though, you wear it well.”

Alex cleared his throat, tugging at the cranberry tie he was wearing today. “I apologize for my lack of manners. I was worried about Emily and wasn’t thinking about the propriety of the situation.” I raised a brow in wonder. I didn’t think I’d ever heard him speak so formally before. Was this his attorney voice? It was kind of hot. “I’m Alexander, I live next door to Emily. This is Maxwell.” Max winced at the full version of his name, but didn’t correct Alex. “He’s my law partner.” Max inclined his head at my sister before turning his attention back to me.

“This is Jenna, my sister.”

Alex relaxed minutely. “Emily has mentioned you. It’s nice to finally have a face to put with the stories.” His laugh was light, and my chest squeezed. Ok, I had no right to be jealous, I scolded myself. If he liked Jenna and she liked him, well, I should wish them all the best.

“I don’t even want to know what she said.” Jenna rolled her eyes. “Think you can stop throwing things at sexy men so we can get everything inside?” She poked my side making me twitch as I slapped at her hand. Max’s grin widened and apparently he had noted just how ticklish I was. Uh-oh. That could only bode trouble.

“Emily, I’d be happy to help.” Alex turned to me, picking up the bags he had stacked before.

“Thanks, guys, but I think I’ve got this.” I glared at my sister as I indicated my heels. “I’m just not used to these shoes yet.” Alex’s eyes trailed down my legs to the shoes and back up. I stuttered for a moment at the heat that flashed there, before the usual warmth replaced it. I glanced at Jenna for help, noting she was seriously considering both men.

“Yeah, we shopped it all, we can haul it all.” Jenna reached out a hand for the bags and Alex passed them over, albeit slowly.

“Still joining us this weekend?” Max called after us as we headed for the house.

“We’ll see!” I called back, turning to wink at him.

“Good, I guess I’ll just hold these hostage until then so you keep your promise.” Max held up the matching panties to the purple slip he had earlier, making me gape as he shot me a wicked grin. “See you Friday, Em!”