by Mariah Jones
Thorne took a step toward me. The anger in me was surging so white-hot that I could hear my blood rushing in my ears.
“I don’t understand how you found out; I wanted it to be a surprise. Please Darcy, explain to me…”
I cut him off in mid-sentence. “Look you slime ball! I may be a lot of things, like fat and…and accident prone. I might not be perfect but if you think I would ever do something like that with a woman like her…and as for how I found out? I saw her shoes in front of the door to your shop. I heard the two of you inside! I’m not stupid. I knew exactly what was going on!”
“Her shoes?” Thorne asked, appearing even more confused.
“Yes you idiot! I saw her leopard skin shoes, that might I add, she was no longer wearing. I closed my eyes as I continued to yell at him. Do you know what kind of woman wears a pair of shoes like that? A whore! A filthy, cheap hooker! That’s who,” I screeched.
When I opened my eyes I saw a woman coming up the walk. She wore and expression of deep confusion on her face as well. She paused before looking at Thorne, eventually coming to stand behind him. She wore an expensive looking suit in a cream color. Her hair was golden blonde and she looked to be in her mid-fifties.
“Darcy,” Thorne gestured to the woman standing behind him. “I would like you to meet my mother.”
My head felt like it was spinning. He had cheated on me the night before, invited me for a ménage a trois and now he was introducing me to his mother?
The classy-looking woman stepped forward and extended her hand. I looked down and felt my heart stop. She was wearing a pair of leopard skin pumps. “Oh boy,” I said. “Uh-oh.”
I threw my arms around Thorne and nearly knocked him off of my front step. “I heard you inside the shop asking if it was good right there and I heard a woman’s voice and I thought…”
Thorne laughed out loud. “We were hanging up paintings. My mom came down to see the new shop and I couldn’t wait for you to meet her.”
As if I didn’t feel stupid enough, Thorne’s mother gestured to her feet. “I only packed the one pair of shoes, and they get terribly uncomfortable after a while,” she said, the apology clear on her face.
“I…uhm. I’m sorry for the comment about women wearing shoes like that, I …uh. They’re really very nice,” I stammered.
Thorne leaned down and kissed me. “Darcy Miller. I am so happy to see you again. I blushed, but this time it was from embarrassment I caused rather than the compliment.
My phone rang and thinking it might be about Daniel, I excused myself to answer it. “He’s home!” Katie said excitedly!
“What? Who’s home?” I asked, unable to wrap my mind around anything other than the embarrassing scene I had caused. I felt like my head was going to explode.
“Jacob,” she said. “He’s home for good. He said he can’t live without us any longer.”
Maybe fairytales do come true, I considered as I looked out the front door at the man I loved.
Epilogue
All right, all right. So here comes the part you have been expecting. Fat Darcy is no longer. I lost 150 pounds and became a personal trainer. I live in a big house on top of a hill with a fancy car that turns back into a pumpkin after midnight every night. NOT!!!!
I’m still fat. In fact I’m even fatter than I was but at least now I have a legitimate excuse. Thorne proposed to me a little over a year ago, on the curb where I first ran him over. We were married in June of this last year, in a beautiful ceremony with our close friends and family. I wore a beautiful size twenty wedding gown that my sister helped me choose.
Jenny caught the bridal bouquet.
Andrew came to the wedding, and brought along his new girlfriend, who happened to be a former nun. Who would have guessed? He’s happy and I’m happy for him.
On our wedding night Thorne added another charm to my bracelet, a tiny silver charm in the shape of a high-heel shoe.
This morning when I rolled over in bed I found a little box on the nightstand. Inside it was another charm, a tiny silver rattle. That’s right. I wasn’t lying when I said I had a good reason to be fat. I’m six month’s pregnant with our first child. It’s a boy and we plan to name him Alex.
My sister is pregnant again as well, and we are due within a week of each other.
Cupcake is thriving but has gone through some major changes as well. The sign now reads “The Artist Formerly Known as Cupcake.” We knocked down a wall and joined forces.
I’m still a complete klutz. I never lost the weight. I am still mortally embarrassed when I think of how I was introduced to my future mother-in-law. Nancy still crosses the street when she sees me. Every now and then the place where I was shot because of my underwear still aches. I have sworn off underwear altogether.
Maybe not your typical fairytale ending, but I’m not your typical girl.
The End
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