Page 23 of Calamity Rayne Gets Hitched

I had thought it would be cool to get my feet behind my ears for Hale, but it turned out I wasn’t that bendy. I’d accidentally shown up at an advanced flow class instead of a beginners’ level. Everyone looked like they were doing a high-speed escape through a room with invisible laser beams using only moves from the Matrix. I tried to keep up and was sore for days. Never again.

“I’m not mad.”

“Good. Because I’ll probably always be a gristle girl. Hale likes my body.”

She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t trying to fat shame you, Ray. Your weight is fine. But physical activity can have a lot of therapeutic benefits, especially where stress is involved. I was only making a suggestion.”

“I know.” After the accident physical therapy really helped Elle, which was why she turned that passion into a career path. “I could probably walk more.”

“That would be an improvement.”

It bothered me that she didn’t comprehend how physically exhausting it was to take care of a baby. Plus, Remington kept me busy most days, which was why Elara also had a nanny.

Elle finished her green drink and set it aside. “So, what’s really got you stressed? I only have fifteen minutes. Let’s hear it.”

It also bugged me that our time was now rationed. I sighed and reached into my bag, withdrawing the latest tabloid I snagged at the market. “Have you seen this?”

Elle pulled the magazine in front of her and I pointed to the headline that read Is America’s Most Eligible Bachelor Settling Down or Just Settling For Less?

“Page eight.”

She opened the cover and flipped through the glossy gossip. “They’re going to cover the wedding, Ray. Davenports are high-profile people.”

“I know. I just wish they would give us more input. There should be laws against publishing pictures of people without their permission. That doesn’t even look like me.”

“Yikes.” She found the photo that had me stressing. “Well, Hale looks great.”

“Of course, he looks great. That’s not the issue. I look like Sam the fucking hobbit.”

“Who?”

“Frodo’s friend. You know, the Goonie? He played Rudy? The guy the demi-dogs ate in Stranger Things.”

She blinked at me, confused.

“It’s irrelevant. I’m Hale’s chubby sidekick. Every single picture they take of me I look like I’m at the chew part of a sneeze.”

Elle laughed. “You’re always talking.”

“Yes, because Hale’s pretty, and I’m chatty. But they don’t write that. They just post these awful pictures and the world sits around wondering what the hell a man like that is doing with a woman like me.”

“No one is wondering that, Ray.”

“Of course they are. Why else would they print the same story over and over again? It’s just a matter of time before they haul out photos of all his anorexic exes and line us up in a comparison article that rips my self-esteem to shreds.”

Elle cocked her head and slid the other half of the cupcake back to me. “Here, I think you need this more than me.”

I ate it because big, ugly emotions should be consumed before they grow. “Did you know the Germans have a literal word for eating feelings,” I said over a mouth full of frosted cake. “Kummerspeck.” Crumbs sputtered past my lips. I took a sip of my iced macchiato and wiped my mouth. “It translates to grief bacon.”

She shook her head. “Where do you read this stuff?”

“I spend a lot of time in the bathroom.”

“This…” She took the magazine and held it like a rag. “Is trash. Stop reading it.”

“But what if they’re right? What if we’re too different to make this work?”

“Ray, you are making it work. Hale loves you. Elara loves you. Fuck everyone else.”

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