Page 82 of Breathe Again

I never cared about being the frumpy, chubby one in our little group of three when just us girls went out, but not with Zale there. Knowing he could not help but see the incongruity between me, our beautiful, slender friend, and my tall, painfully pretty, sister, exhumed the shame inside me.

After our amazing weekend in Stratford, I thought I’d be good for sex for a month, but by Wednesday the effectshad worn off. Thursday was girls’ night at Willa’s, and their love had filled me so much that it didn’t matter that he was sleeping when I got home.

Last night Olivia stayed up until after eleven, but Zale didn’t, and when I finally climbed into bed, I was not in a good place emotionally. Which brought us to tonight, and we were going out with our beautiful friends. Where there would be lots of other women looking beautiful, and I didn’t know if I had the strength to cope tonight with being the chubby, frumpy, dull, drab, homely, outdated, sloppy, unfashionable piece of shit that was me.

I needed to pull it together. Zale and I did not often get a night out with our friends, and he’d arranged for Olivia to go to Dean’s tonight for just that reason.

I stood in front of my closet and rifled through the clothing hanging there, noting that there was no use fretting, it was all just putting lipstick on a pig no matter what I wore. I pulled out my new, black cigarette pants, a black halter blouse that buttoned between my breasts, and a cropped black jacket with white polka dots. The halter top revealed my shoulders and my clavicle, two of my better attributes. The jacket would be necessary outside, but the halter would be perfect in the heat of the bar. I put on high wedge heels, a choker necklace in a rolling wave pattern Bex made especially for me and checked myself in the mirror.

My makeup was perfect. My hair behaved. I looked as good as I could look. I took a deep breath, grabbed my coat, and went out to the car where Zale was already impatiently waiting for me.

The night out with the gang went much, much better than I expected.

As soon as we got there, Bex and Willa enveloped me in love, complimenting my outfit, my hair, my makeup, and although I found it hard to believe, their eyes did not lie. Their compliments warmed and embarrassed me in equal measure, and I couldn’t help but smile.

Rhys and Barrett stood to greet us. I’d spent a bit of time with Barrett, but I was always a little surprised by his size. If Rhys were once a baby born from a biker bitch and a Norse god, Barrett was a straight up Viking who’d traveled through time and space to the present day. The man was huge. His hair hung long to his shoulders but completely shaved on both sides. Tattoos decorated one arm, and those arms could surely snap trees. Bex and Willa both found him to be serious and intimidating, but I didn’t see it. In fact, he had the kindest eyes I’d ever seen.

He took my hand in his, his big voice rumbling up from his chest. “Mara, it’s good to see you again. You look beautiful.”

“Hi Barrett, thank you. I’m glad you could make it. Were you busy at the shelter today?”

He released my hand but not my attention. Younger than me, by at least a few years, yet he felt exactly how I always imagined an older brother would feel. Attentive but not in the least way flirtatious, protective but not overbearing. Weird that I felt protective vibes from him, he barely knew me. Perhaps he was just that type.

Rhys and Barrett locked eyes over my head and Barrett nodded, a sad half smile on his handsome, bearded face.

“What’s the matter?” I asked him, concerned.

He looked down at me, his hazel eyes warm and friendly, but I could feel the sadness behind them. “You remind me of someone I still miss.”

I leaned toward him and touched his arm, tipped my face up to look into his sad eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry for your pain.” I could feel it. Deep and wide, it was a gaping hole in his soul.

“You can feel it, can’t you?”

It surprised me that he could see that. “I can.”

He smiled. “You feel, I see.”

“Ah.” I smiled but the thoughts of what he might see came hard and fast and I tried to back away.

He reached for my elbow, halting my retreat, and tipped his face down to catch my eyes. “I see only beauty.”

I searched his eyes but found no duplicity. It was the weirdest, most beautiful, asexually loving conversation I’d ever had.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He smiled and released my elbow. The whole exchange lasted less than half a minute, but I fell in love with his kindness in those thirty seconds. I remembered that conversation for the rest of my life, andI took out the memory of his words and his kindness to me whenever I needed a little extra to get through the day.

Zale came back from the bar and set three beers on the table then shook Barrett’s hand.

“You’re not actually trying to steal my wife away right in front of me?”

Barrett smiled. “She’s too good for me, I’m just admiring her from afar.”

Zale gave an exaggerated sigh. “Thank God. I wasn’t looking forward to fighting you.”

“I can tell you from experience,” Rhys laughed. “It’s like wrestling a fuckin’ grizzly.”

They laughed and sat down at our table. Zale knew Barrett much better than I did and they had developed a rapport. Zale appreciated his calm, serious demeanor, and truthfully, the man had a gift for putting people at ease.

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