Un-Tying the Knot {h.s.}

Chapter 33

Eleanor's lips pulled into a thin line. "Well, you know I love your hair short, and considering your hair is curling because it's getting long again, you don't seem to care."

His brow furrowed instantly. "Please don't tell me you did this because I haven't cut my hair short again." Eleanor's eyes widen, and I suddenly wished I had been able to not to be there to see this.

"Yet!?!?" she screeched. "I've been trying to get you an appointment for months, Harold." He cringed before scowling. "You've been intentionally putting it off!?"

"So that's the reason?" he confirmed.

She laughed sarcastically before she rolled her eyes. "Yes, Harry. Because the entire world revolves around you. You really are such a narcissist."

—

Neither of them, nor myself and Eleanor had spoken for the rest of the morning. Harry stalked off in a huff and I silently walked on eggshells until she forced me to go out for lunch to plan Harry's upcoming birthday party.

I can't help but reach for my coke to distract me — cursing silently when I taste the diet — as the waiter scrambles to scribble her extensively complicated order before finally turning to me.

"And for you?" he asks with a sigh.

I pick up my menu again, cursing myself for not having read it while my face was buried in it for hiding purposes. "I guess I'll take the fettuccine," I offer before pointing to the remainder of the printed pasta dish that I can't pronounce correctly. He rolls his eyes at me before taking our menus.

Eleanor turns her nose up, horrified. "But, that — that has a cream sauce," she scoffs.

"I like cream sauce," I counter, surprised I actually said the words out loud.

Eleanor eyes me amusedly before picking up her wine glass, pinky in the air as she scoffs down at my appearance. "Obviously."

I look down at myself and blush, tugging at the end of my sweater as I sigh slightly. I'm not slim and lithe like Eleanor — I'm curvy, but still small. I have hips, my thighs are a little thick to match the curve of my ass, and I have what I think are the perfect breasts, albeit a bit on the smaller side for my liking. My stomach isn't flat flat, but it's not pudgy either. I would consider myself a healthy hourglass. The average woman.

I like being average.

"You know," Eleanor counters, eyeing me over her wine glass. "If you laid off the carbs, I bet you'd lose ten pounds, easy." She nods again before taking a sip, eyeing me even more uncomfortably.

I shift in my seat, unsure of how to respond. "Um, thanks?"

"You just need a personal trainer," she mentions before reaching for her purse. "I mean, I know that you go to the gym, but everyone can use a little guidance sometimes to switch it up. The guy that Harry has is amazing — I'm sure he's way out of your price range," she condescends, "but I'm sure he would know someone."

Eleanor plucks a small business card out of her purse and hands it to me. "Uh, thank you?" I offer again, still not quite sure how to respond. "How did you know I go to the gym?" I ask, confused. We've never discussed this before.

She just offers me an innocent smile, but something tells me there's nothing innocent about it at all. Does she know I kissed her fiancé?

The panic starts to run through my veins a little.

"Doesn't everybody?" she asks.

"Well, I suppo—"

"Actually," she starts, eyeing me cautiously as the wheels start turning in overdrive in her head. "I think I'll set you up with his trainer anyway. There's no telling what Harry's doing while he's there."