“Go, Cole!”

A few weeks later, I was sitting next to Ian at Cole’s first baseball game. He’d made the team with no problem, and today he was playing third base. I’d never followed baseball too closely, but I knew the basics. And I knew that Cole looked adorable in his gold and white uniform—not that I’d ever tell him that.

He was making friends the other boys, and when they hung out together at the apartment complex, it sometimes influenced how Cole acted around me. Gone were the spontaneous hugs and the goofy things he did to try to make me laugh. But that was as it should be. He was growing up. He’d be ten in a few weeks.

“C’mon, son,” Ian bellowed behind me as Cole came up to bat. He missed the first time he swung, and a strike was called by the high school kid who was the umpire. The next two pitches were balls, but Cole connected with the one after that. It rolled straight between short stop and second base, and Cole made it safely to first base.

Ian and I cheered and shouted, hugging each other before we sat down again. Still smiling, I scanned the crowd, glad that there were a lot of parents to cheer the boys on. But then I encountered one face that didn’t look pleased at all.

Lydia.

Crap, I hadn’t known she was here. But of course, she was Cole’s mother. And mothers supported their children—and, apparently, glared at their ex-husband’s new girlfriends.

The look she gave me might have made a more delicate person curl up and die. And I didn’t understand it, either. They were divorced. Ian could date whoever he wanted. So could she, for that matter.

After the game—which Cole’s team won—we took Cole out for hamburgers. Ian had spoken to Lydia after the game, and I’m pretty sure he invited her, but she apparently wanted nothing to do with it. She left after giving Cole a quick hug.

Cole devoured two hamburgers and a plate full of fries. He really was growing quickly—I could imagine him with an appetite to rival Ian’s in a few years. And when he was done with everything except his chocolate milkshake, he turned to his father.

“Can I ask her, Dad?”

“Sure.” Ian smiled as I looked at him questioningly.

“There’s this thing at school. A charity dinner. Everyone’s going to be all fancy-shmancy and wear nice clothes. It’s just for adults, not kids—but me and the guys are going to work on setting it up, and Jon’s going to make this big poster, and Dave—”

“You’re burying the lede, son,” Ian interjected.

“It’s next Saturday night,” Cole said, without missing a beat. ”I was hoping you could come. The more people we invite, the more money the charity gets. Besides…” he paused, his face reddening a little. “Then you can see my school.”

Aww. That was so sweet that he wanted me to see his school. “Of course I’ll go.”

Cole beamed.

Later, when Cole was visiting the first baseman who was also here with his family, I looked sideways at Ian. “Just how fancy is this thing?”

Ian squeezed my hand. “Pretty damn fancy considering it’s an elementary school fundraiser.”

Uh-oh. “As in… evening wear? Or formal wear or whatever you call it?”

“That’s what I heard.”

Crap. What on earth was I going to wear? I didn’t have any nice dresses. The closest thing I had was a long black skirt I’d worn to my great aunt’s funeral. Somehow, I didn’t think that would be appropriate.

“It’ll be fun,” Ian said, and I raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, maybe not fun, but it’ll be far less boring with you there at my side.”

I couldn’t help returning the smile he gave me. This man was amazing. And he genuinely wanted to be with me.

But I still didn’t know what the hell I was going to wear.

“Here.” Ian handed me a little white envelope.

“What’s that?”

“Something for you to wear for the charity dinner.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not going to fit,” I said, holding the tiny envelop in my hand.

Ian laughed and leaned over and kissed me. “Smartass.”

“You love my ass.”

“Hell yes I do. Go ahead and open that.”

I grabbed an unused table knife and slit the sealed envelope open. Inside was a little black gift card with a gold emblem on it. “What’s this?”

“A gift certificate. So that you can get a nice dress to wear to the dinner.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” I protested as I turned the card over. It said it was for $500. I gasped as I re-read the amount.

“Yes, I did. I’m attending the dinner with the most gorgeous woman in the world. She needs a knock-out dress. One that I might get to peel her out of later.”

I was still staring in astonishment at the card. This is too much.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t know how much a dress would cost.”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s still too much. I can’t accept this.”

“Yes, you can.” Ian kissed me on the nose this time. “Besides, it’s non-refundable. If you don’t use it, it’ll just go to waste.”

Non-refundable? “Where’s it from?” I squinted at the tiny emblem but couldn’t read the lettering.

“That dress shop on the outer road off Route 15. On the way to the mall.”

My heart sank as I pictured the storefront. It was a fancy place for trendy women. No way would it have plus sizes. I wouldn’t fit into anything there.

“What’s wrong? Want me to go with you? You can try stuff on and give me my own private show.” His voice had dropped to a suggestive leer designed to make me laugh, but I was too distracted to do so. I didn’t want to let him know that I couldn’t use his very generous gift.

Cole re-appeared at that moment, and I was pathetically grateful that Ian’s focus turned to his son. The last thing I wanted was for him to see me blinking back tears.

Where on earth could I get a nice dress?

* * *

I asked Barb for any ideas the very next day. I also asked her about getting an advance on my paycheck. I didn’t have a lot of extra money to spend on new clothes.

“Why don’t you just go there and see if you can get Ian’s money back? That way you could use the money at another store.”

“He said it was non-refundable.”

“That sucks. Leave it to a man to not think of things like that.”

I nodded, but deep down inside, I was glad Ian hadn’t thought that those clothes might be too small for me. He thought I was perfect—I didn’t want to remind him that the rest of the world didn’t see me that way.

Barb frowned for a minute, and then she shrugged. “You could still try. It never hurts to ask.”

That wasn’t entirely true. It would hurt my pride. But I’d do it for Ian.

Later that evening, a paper-thin redhead with penciled in, arched eyebrows shook her head at me. “I’m sorry. I can’t give you a refund.”

Crap. Where was I going to get the money for a nice dress? If I could even find one in my size.

The redhead smiled which made her look far less aloof. “But that just means you get to spend it. There are worse things than having to spend five hundred dollars here.”

I gaped at her. Couldn’t she see the problem? Did she think I was going to spend the whole gift certificate on shoes or the necklaces hanging on the back wall? “It’s just that I need a nice dress. For a fancy dinner.”

She beamed, gesturing around her. “You’ve come to the right place.”

Ugh, what was it going to take for her to understand the problem? I decided to be direct. “You don’t carry larger sizes.”

She paused, her smile turning into a quizzical look. Her eyes raked up and down me as she studied me, slowly circling me. I felt like an idiot, but I held still under her scrutiny.

At last she spoke. “I’m pretty sure you’ll fit into some of our dresses.”

I gasped. “You sell plus sizes?”

“No,” she said. “But I don’t think you need it. If I can just find something that’s got some extra room in the bust and the hips…” Muttering to herself, she moved walked off, weaving through the racks of clothes.

I watched her go, astonished. Did she really think I could fit into something here? There was no way… was there? It was true that my clothes had become loser since I started working out, both at the gym and with Ian and Cole. And I felt more toned. But not enough to fit into clothes here.

Taking a few steps to the side, I peered into a full-length mirror. The more I looked, the more I spotted the differences. My posture was better—I was holding myself more upright. Shoulders down. Chest out. Stomach in. Ian was always harping on proper form when we worked out at the gym. And my stomach looked a little smaller, perhaps. And my arms more toned. Still… I doubt those small changes made much of a difference in a store like this.

“Miss?” The saleswoman was waving me over to the dressing room, another big smile on her face. “I think I’ve found the perfect dress.”