Butterface

She turned her head so her nose was close to the red and silver material—thank you, big honker—and sniffed the blanket. She couldn’t help it. She was weak, and he had always smelled so good—especially for a big jerk with sexy green eyes and perfect forearms. “He deserves to marry someone with a Cajun Rage tattoo.”

Lucy flopped down beside her and took the wine bottle from Gina, then poured herself a glass with what was left. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“They’re a hockey team,” Tess answered as she sat down on Gina’s other side. “But I have no idea what that has to do with…you know.”

Pressing her lips together to keep her gaze focused—she had no idea why that helped, but it did—she surveyed her friends. They were such good people. If only Lucy could get stop doing the whole scaring the shit out of guys to push them away before they had a chance to reject her thing, and if only Tess could stop getting so freaked out anytime she was around someone she found attractive that she basically forgot how to speak, they could find love. Then they’d be happy. Or they’d find someone like Ford who’d crush their hearts under his boot. But she hoped it wasn’t the second one. They deserved better than someone like Ford.

“I love you two.” She put her arms around her girls. “You are so sweet to have come over.”

“Are you kidding?” Lucy said. “After you told us what happened with that dick-doo-wah, I snagged a couple of shovels from the store in case we needed to help you bury a body.”

And that brought tears to her eyes. Maybe she was kinda drunk. But still, only a true friend would help you dispose of a body. “You’re the best.”

“I put the two best old-school chicks-kick-ass movies in the Netflix queue I could find,” Tess announced, leaning forward so she could reach her laptop, which was set up on the coffee table to click on whichever movie they picked. “Kill Bill or Thelma and Louise? Chick with a sword or driving off the cliff?”

“Spoilers!” Lucy yelled.

Gina turned to her friend. “How can that be a spoiler? These have been out for twelve billionty years.”

“Billionty?” Lucy giggled and took a drink of wine.

“It’s the longest unit of time ever,” Gina said in the most serious voice she could manage at the moment. “I’m a wedding planner. You can trust me.”

Trust me. The phrase fell out of her mouth and boomeranged on her, smacking her right in the feels. That’s what Ford said she could do with him. And she had. You’re an idiot, Regina.

“No, you’re not an idiot,” Tess said, sitting up and turning to face Gina.

Shit. She’d said it out loud again. No more wine for her.

“Yeah,” Lucy chimed in. “Don’t be mean to my friend. She’s a pretty cool chick.”

“I’m sorry, guys.” She let out a sigh and did some fast blinks to get rid of the tears making her vision all watery. “This whole thing just brought back a lot of stuff I thought I’d gotten past. You know, I thought if I acknowledged my own undateabilty that it would make everything easier.”

“But it didn’t?” Tess asked.

Gina just shook her her head. The double friend sandwich hug was immediate. She really did have the best friends.

“Nope, the thing is—” she said, getting a mouthful of Tess’s auburn hair as she spoke, cutting off what she was about to say.

That set off a giggle fit between all three of them that lasted through a trip to the kitchen for more chocolate and then coming back with everyone’s glasses refilled—Lucy with wine, Tess with Pibb Xtra, and her with water.

“What’s the thing?” Lucy asked once all three of them were back on the couch.

Gina took a deep breath and tried to think of prettier words to use, but the only ones that came to her head were the plain, unvarnished, rough-around-the-edges truth. “The thing is that this is me. Sure, I could have plastic surgery and tweak this and alter that, but I don’t want to. More power to anyone who wants to go that route, but it’s not for me. I don’t want to get a makeover. I don’t want to change my face. I just want a man who sees me and doesn’t see the ugly girl. He sees me and he loves me, not in spite of my face but in part because of it.” She’d never verbalized it before, but it was true, and putting the words out there lifted a weight off her shoulders that she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying.