Forget Me Knot
Soph and Martin. Over the months, the two of them had become great friends. They could press each other’s buttons and wind each other up something rotten. Abby put it down to them both being neurotic and outspoken. But instead of like poles repelling, these two connected.
    Once Soph and Martin established that Abby had suffered no physical ill effects, they asked her about how the rest of the evening had gone. Abby didn’t say anything about Lady P demanding that Abby take a fertility test and the row she and Toby had had about it afterward. She didn’t want to fuel her friends’ doubts about the relationship. For the same reason, she didn’t mention having confronted Toby about his sexuality. Instead, she decided to change the subject. “So, Soph,” she said breezily, “how are things with you?”
    Soph lowered herself onto the stool in front of the counter. Her face became one massive grin. “Weeell, I have news.”
    “Ooh, let me guess,” Martin said. “I know—Jennifer Lopez has been run over by a steamroller and is claiming a billion dollars on her ass insurance.”
    “Guess again.”
    “They’ve discovered the eighth dwarf, Horny.”
    Abby and Soph both laughed at this. “Wrong,” Soph said. “My news is that I am seeing somebody.”
    “You mean as in a man?”
    “Yes.”
    “No!” Abby cried.
    “I don’t believe it,” Martin trilled.
    “I’d be grateful if the two of you could look just a bit less surprised. Believe it or not, there are men out there who find short, curly-haired Jewish girls with a body mass index in excess of twenty-five attractive.”
    “Oh, God, sorry,” Abby shot back. “It wasn’t that. Of course you’re attractive. You’re beautiful. It’s just that we’ve been so worried about you because it seemed like you were never going to get over Frank.” Until six months ago, a banker named Frank Feldman had been the love of Soph’s life. Then, with no warning, he dumped her. By e-mail. A week later, “Frank the Wanker” buggered off to Australia with an Aussie fitness trainer named Rayleen. “But why didn’t you say you were seeing somebody?”
    Soph offered an apologetic shrug. “Up ’til now I wasn’t sure where it was going, and I didn’t want to make a fool of myself by blabbing.”
    “But we’re your friends.” Abby frowned. “How could you possibly have made a fool of yourself? And it’s so unlike you. You talk about everything.”
    “I know. I didn’t mean to shut you out, but believe it or not, I’ve been feeling a bit vulnerable since the split from Frank. You know me—I don’t do vulnerable very well, so I pulled back a bit. Anyway, the point is, we’ve been out a dozen or so times now and I seriously think he might be the one.”
    Abby was beaming. “You’re kidding.”
    “Nope. And he is to-tally gorgeous. I cannot believe my luck.”
    “So is he Jewish?”
    Soph giggled. “Who are you? My mother?”
    “It’s just that I know how important this is to your parents. You’re always going on about how much they want you to marry a nice Jewish boy.”
    “Actually, he’s half Jewish. His name is Lamar Silver-man.”
    “Lamar?” Abby said, frowning again. “Isn’t that rather an odd name for a Jewish guy?”
    “I’ve told you. He’s only half Jewish.”
    “And what does Lamar Silverman do for a living?” Martin asked.
    “He’s a doctor.”
    Abby had her mouth open. “You’re going out with a Jewish doctor?”
    “No,” Soph said, her smile belying her impatience. “I’m going out with a half-Jewish doctor.”
    “OK. OK. Sorry. But even so. Are you the perfect Jewish daughter or what?”
    “Practically perfect,” Martin interjected. “He’s only half Jewish.”
    Abby told him to stop splitting hairs and turned back to Soph. “Your parents must be thrilled.”
    “Actually, they don’t know about him yet.”
    “So,” Martin said, “what does he look like, this half- Jewish doctor of yours? Is he gorgeous? Will

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