Page 23 of My Big Fat Shifter Wedding

I looked good.

No, I looked fantastic.

The jeans fit in all the right ways, with a darker wash up toward my apron belly, where I was a little more self-conscious, and lighter wash down at the bottom where it flared out. That balanced out the proportion of my bottom half, and even though Amanda had explained it the entire time we were shopping, I finally got it.

On top of that was the cream, peasant blouse she’d had me buy. It had a scallop trim all along the top and bottom hem. She’d dabbed body oil on my collarbones, and I was surprised at the difference it made. I looked doll-like in a way, my anatomy not only functional but aesthetic as well.

And then there was the casual vest. Nothing like I’d wear with a suit or office outfit, but it nipped in at that whole natural waist thing, making my long, long torso seem much more balanced by shifting the emphasis up higher.

Then there was my hair. Holy mother of all wolves and the moon herself, my hair!

Frizz? Didn’t know her. Dry? Says who? Instead of the brittle and parched broom strands that I threw up into a ponytail or bun to get it out of the way, my head was surrounded by deep, chestnut-colored curls, the ashy brown of last summer’s sun mostly trimmed so it was less of a strange band of color in my frizzy strands and more of a purposeful ombre toward the tips of my ringlets. While my curls were smaller and thinner than Shirley Temple’s, I still absolutely loved the way it looked. There was so much life and action in the strands, bouncing around with my movements almost like an entire Greek chorus to echo everything I said.

This had always been there, hidden behind all the barriers I’d subconsciously built up to protect myself from too much attention.

How long have I been neglecting myself to focus everything on everyone else?

I didn’t know, but it was a damning question, and I realized that I owed Rolando a lot for inadvertently giving me the kick in the behind to admit I didn’t like how people treated me or how I allowed people to treat me. I’d been waffling back and forth on if I was being dramatic, or fighting against my nature, but now that I was looking in the mirror and seeing Olivia, fully physically realized and celebrated, I knew I couldn’t turn back.

“So…” Amanda murmured from behind me, and I realized that I hadn’t said a single thing since my first whispered utterance. “Do you like it?”

I turned to her, my eyes beginning to prickle with extra moisture. God, wasn’t that so juvenile?

“I love it,” I breathed, letting all of it wash over me in an uninhibited deluge. And I owed it all to Amanda. I had no idea why a girl about a decade younger than me had decided to corral me to a mall and give me a makeover, but I would be grateful forever. “You mentioned something about smoothies?”

“Girl, you know I did! Mama has a punch card that’s full and needs her free blended fruit!”

I laughed, feeling like I was floating on a cloud. Was it possible to like myself this much? Was this how Leandro felt all the time? No wonder he was always so full of himself.

“Lead the way!”

7

KEITH

“I see we’re short two students, so I’m going to give them about five minutes before we start. In the meantime, if you want to continue working on your projects or read the lesson plan for today, feel free to do so.”

While it wasn’t unusual to have a few dropouts from the first class, I sincerely hoped that the pair at the back workstations hadn’t decided the workshop wasn’t for them. Although it was too soon to pick favorites, those two were definitely high on the list.

I hadn’t thought much of my first walkthrough with either of them beyond confirming that the Barbie one definitely was intentional about her enrollment in my class, but ever since I’d caught that errant chisel, my mind kept going back to that moment of adrenaline.

I knew it was unwise to try to catch a pointy thing mid-flight, but it had been instinct more than anything else. That instinct had brought me face-to-face with a woman who I’d only barely talked to, and my student at that.

Except, in that split second where we were in such close proximity, my mind hadn’t cared that she was a student. No, it had clocked those wide eyes of hers, shining bright like uncut gems of amber. I hadn’t noticed them before, but in that moment, it was like I couldn’t tear my gaze away.

Her rounded face had been so cute in its expression of surprise, then horror, then finally what I liked to think was a tiny bit of admiration. But maybe that was just my ego talking, because I was impressed with myself for catching the flying tool without hurting myself.

So yeah, maybe she had been on my mind through the night, and maybe I had been thinking of witty, woody things to say to her to engage in a pleasant conversation again, but clearly that was a moot point because she had left.

Bummer. The first time I actually noticed a woman in an interested way and now she was gone. I could use the class sign-up sheet to figure out who she was, but that felt like a huge abuse of my power, so I let it go.

Some things simply weren’t meant to be.

At least, that was what I thought until someone cleared their throat behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I saw none other than Miss Barbie (I really needed to learn everyone’s name) standing at the front entrance of the workshop.

“Good afternoon,” she said simply before stepping to the side rather dramatically. Then I realized that what we were witnessing was none other than a classic reveal.

And what a reveal it was, because behind her was the woman I had been hoping would arrive.