“Fucking—do you look good in anything you put on?” I asked.

“What? This thing? I found it crumbled on my floor,” Rachel said.

“I swear, you could wear a manure sack and walk down a runway with men drooling over you.”

“What? Like your curves aren’t to die for?”

“I’m pretty sure no man ever died for a woman who can’t see her feet,” I said.

“You can see your feet, Ira. What in the world has gotten into you lately?” she asked.

I hugged my best friend close before the two of us slipped into our favorite diner, Mackey’s Bowl. Everything anyone ordered there was served in this hot bowl, and it was all fantastic. I got the same thing every time: braised chicken piled high with grilled vegetables sitting on top of garlic and cheesy mashed potatoes, complete with a sweet tea.

“Okay. Fork it over. Why in the world are you starting up about your body again?” Rachel asked.

“What? I can’t give my friend a compliment?” I asked.

“No. You’re using them to degrade yourself again. Why? You haven’t done this in a while.”

“Just because I haven’t said anything doesn’t mean I don’t secretly yearn for your type of body.”

“What? Rail thin with clothes that hang off me until I shop in the junior’s department?” she asked.

“Better than having to shop in the women’s section at fifteen,” I said.

“Ira, you’re beautiful. You’ve got curves men love to cuddle up to and grab on to. I always get complaints about how I’m too bony before they toss me off their laps—literally toss.”

“I’m not the good kind of curvy. I just get complaints about how they can’t breathe.”

“No, you don’t,” she said.

“Well, I would. If I ever tried to sit on one of them.”

It was weighing on my mind all week. I knew Clay and myself had agreed to keep things professional, but I didn’t think they’d go back to him not paying attention at all. The encounter in his office had been incredible. Mind-blowing. Something I hadn’t experienced with a man in years because, well, no decent man wanted the experience. But after that conversation, it went back to him passing me over with his glances. No looks in the eye. No off-to-the-side conversation. We did all of that stuff naturally before we hooked up.

Now, we didn’t do it at all.

He was probably ashamed, fucking a girl as big as me.

“You aren’t getting away from this,” Rachel said.

“I had to take yesterday off because Dad fell in the bathroom,” I said.

“Wait, are you serious? I thought he was doing well.”

“I thought so, too. But yesterday was a bad day. A very, very bad day. He’s losing the last of his hair. His movements were ragged. He needed help eating dinner by the time night rolled around. I haven’t ever seen him this bad.”

“Why the hell didn’t you call me?” she asked.

“You were working. I wasn’t going to bug you at work,” I said.

“Not for dinner! I could have come over and helped.”

“I don’t know. It just… I already had to call into work yesterday and get someone to cover my shift. I don’t know. I just didn’t think about it. I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry, crazy. I’m worried about you,” she said.

“Well, I’m worried about my father,” I said.

She took my hand as our drinks and food were set down in front of us.

“We come here too much if we don’t have to even order,” Rachel said, giggling.

“You can say that again.”

“So, have you talked to Clay at all since you called in yesterday?” she asked.

I furrowed my brow. “That’s an odd question to ask.”

“So, you don’t know about the drama Jason threw down in the restaurant.”

“What drama?”

“Didn’t you have to work today? Didn’t you see Clay at all? No one told you about this?”

“No. I didn’t see Clay at all while working today,” I said.

In fact, that was exactly what kicked up my insecurities. Every time I caught his eye, he physically turned around and walked the other way. Like I was some kind of virus he needed to avoid.

“Apparently, Jason really kicked up a stink about you calling into work and taking off,” Rachel said.

“What? Why?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Some people say he mentioned something about Clay playing favorites. Others said Jason was upset because he’s asked for time off and Clay hasn’t given it to him.”

“So, you’re hearing this through the grapevine.”

“I heard it from Clarice Mayfield. She was there when it happened,” she said.

“And she thinks she heard something about Clay playing favorites?” I asked.

“You know Clarice’s hearing isn’t the best. But it sounds a lot like Jason. Doesn’t it?”

I played with my vegetables while Rachel dug into her food. It was amazing, the food she could put away without gaining a pound.

I ate a piece of cheese and four of them popped up on my hips.

“Could I get a to-go box, please?” I asked.

“Where are you going?” Rachel asked with her mouth full.

“I need to go talk to Clay.”

I looked up and watched her eyebrows wiggle around.

“Not like that. Look, if Jason is kicking up a stink about me not working and causing drama around my name, then there’s a chance Clay might fire us both to get rid of the drama. I don’t want that to happen. I depend on that job,” I said.

It also gave me a chance to look him in the eye and ask him if he regretted what happened with us.

“You know that’s not going to happen,” Rachel said.

“Yeah. And the last time you said those words to me, my father did end up with cancer. Again,” I said.

“Fine. Point taken. Sheesh.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just—I can’t afford to lose this job. And if it means decking Jason in the face so he stops using my father’s sickness for his own personal gain—”

“Are you selling tickets to that event? And don’t worry about the food, it’s on me,” she said.

I giggled. “We’ll get together soon. I promise.”

“Let me know how it goes with Clay!” she exclaimed.

“Thank you for the food!”

Then, I ran out of the diner and pulled out my phone to call a cab.

I really needed to speak with Clay.