Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
I leaned over the kitchen counter and squinted at the number on the food scale. “We’re being more traditional than you think. But that’s one tradition I am not going to mess with. I cannot wait to see your face when I’m walking down that aisle.”
“I can’t wait to see you walking down the aisle.” He came over and put his arms around my waist. “I can’t wait for you to be Mrs. Neil Elwood.”
“Mmm, no.” I put my arms around his neck and shook my head, enjoying the sassy weight of my swinging ponytail behind me. “I will be Ms. Sophie Scaife, and I will be married to Mr. Neil Elwood.”
He sighed. This was a losing battle he wouldn’t quit fighting. “No chance of a Ms. Sophie Scaife-Elwood?”
“None at all. I’m not a conglomerate.” I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him.
He leaned back and frowned at the turkey on the scale. “That’s not all you’re having for breakfast?”
I waved him off. “No. This is what I’m having after the fitting. I’m not eating beforehand.”
“You have to eat something,” he insisted. He scanned the counter, and his eyes brightened. “Ah.” He snatched up a tomato and handed it to me. “Eat it in the car.”
“There are apples right over there,” I pointed out.
He went to them and playfully tossed me one. “Promise me you won’t think negatively about your body at this fitting.”
“I cannot promise that.” I turned back to my two ounces of deli turkey and put the apple on the counter beside the scale. “What prompted that remark, anyway?”
His expression slowly faded from fun and sexy to sad and serious. “I’ve been noticing some…” He paused in frustration. “Since your mother arrived, I’ve noticed you’re being a bit…overcautious, we’ll say. About food.”
I frowned. “No, I haven’t.”
“What did you eat for lunch yesterday?”
The question came so fast, it bumped me back a step. “I don’t remember. Do you remember what you ate for lunch yesterday?”
“Raw spinach tossed with goat cheese and cherry tomatoes in a pear vinaigrette,” he rattled off without a second to think.
“Well, most normal people don’t have that kind of memory,” I snapped. “Plus, I’ve been really busy at work. It’s not like I have time to sit down and have a full lunch.”
“All right,” he conceded. “What do you remember eating yesterday?”
I scanned my brain. I hadn’t been eating much, he was right. But it was just because work had been so hectic. “I ate, like, half a bag of baby carrots in the car on the way home.”
“And when you got in last night, you told me you’d just eaten, and you weren’t hungry for dinner,” he reminded me.
Damn. I felt myself growing defensive, much in the way I expected the Hulk felt himself growing angry. It only made me more defensive. “Look, I’ve been under a lot of stress lately, and I don’t want to eat. It’s not a big deal.”
“It is a big deal, to me. I’m your partner, I’m supposed to take care of you, the way you take care of me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, as though he were resting the weight of his head on his curled fingers. When he looked up, he said, “You’re not eating. I’ve noticed that you’re not eating, and I know it’s about the wedding, and it’s terrifying me.”
My mouth dropped open in shock, and my chest jerked with a few futile attempts to speak. Even though what he’d said made sense, I hadn’t been conscious of what I was doing, and somehow, that made me feel attacked. “You’re being…stupid.”
“Am I?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re skipping meals at work, and I know you’re skipping meals at home. You’re carefully weighing your food—you’ve never done that before—and now, you’re getting defensive because I noticed. I raised a teenage daughter, Sophie. I’ve read Reviving Ophelia.”
“Yeah, and I’m not a teenager, and you’re not my father, so please don’t go creepily applying your frantic dad self-help bullshit to me!” I snapped.
My quick leap to anger startled both of us, and we stood staring at each other until Neil said, cautiously, “I know that having your mother here is stressful. I’ve heard her comments about your weight and how all the women in your family tend to…grow in volume, as it were.”
I snorted at that.
The corner of his mouth twitched, but we weren’t out of serious confrontation territory yet. “I know that you know that I would love you no matter how much you weigh. But we’ve both worked in the fashion industry, and we know what that can do to a person’s self-image. And, now, your mother is here, and that’s putting extra pressure on you.”
“I know. I know.” I shook my head and caught sight of the deli meat waiting patiently on the scale. My guilt and embarrassment intensified. “Don’t worry about me, okay? I hadn’t consciously decided to do any of these things as a weight-loss plan. Now that you’ve brought it to my attention, I’m kind of freaked out. I promise I’ll be more mindful.”