Page 4 of The Man I Love

She cleared her throat, trying to hide the sudden lull. “You need to get your eyes checked,” she repeated.

He stood there, holding her in his arms as though trying to process through his thoughts, but then he inched away. “What are you talking about?”

She smoothed his brow with her thumb and finger. “You’re the beautiful one, Tristan Montgomery, not me, and it’s okay. I’ve made peace with it.”

Without saying another word, he set her on the ground, took hold of her hips, and walked her backward to the mirrored closet door.

She cringed when she caught sight of her reflection. It was worse than she imagined. Her T-shirt wasso covered in dry clay that the band logo was hardly identifiable. Her hair, which had once been tied up in a messy bun, now appeared almost feral. She immediately yanked the scrunchy from her hair, allowing long strands to fall to her waist. She tried to turn to face him, but he quickly spun her back around again.

“Look,” he said, pointing toward the mirror, his tone serious and firm.

She placated him, but didn’t focus on her own reflection. Instead, she stared at him. The man who stole her heart two years ago, who towered over her five-foot-two-inch frame.

His knuckles grazed the side of her face, his thumb moving her hairline until he pushed a stray tendril behind her ear. He didn’t say a word.

He truly was a handsome man. Even in his loose black polo work shirt, he was the most attractive man she had ever met. She’d watched him shave that morning, but his five o’clock shadow was as reliable as the sunrise, gracing his jawline this afternoon. Somehow, it made his features less perfect, more real…and somehow, like every flaw on his entire body, even more beautiful.

She glanced at the dip in his throat, her favorite place to kiss. She leaned her head back and found the dimple in his chin shewished to pass on to their children. When her eyes met his in the mirror, she was shocked to see emotion.

His warm cheek pressed against her hair, and his body hunched over. “You’re beautiful, Sammy Smiles, why can’t you see that?”

She took a sharp breath, and her chest inflated. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. Maybe it was all the teasing she’d gotten in grade school,which ripped holes in her self-confidence, or the backhanded comments she’d received from Steven throughout their six-year relationship. Comments like being pretty when she curled her hair, or looking beautiful when she tried. There were days when she thought she was pretty—but beautiful?

She found herself in the mirror, for the first time in her life wanting to see what Tristan saw. To believe what he believed with every fiber of his being.

Tristan smiled at her reflection, giving her courage, and almost daring her to leap at the same time. She knew she judged herself too harshly. “I have a pretty face,” she whispered. And it was true. She’d been given the compliment on far too many occasions not to believe it—but the words were like a double-edged sword, and the ‘but’ was never far behind, whether said out loud or not.

Tristan’s hands traveled down her breasts, caressing her stomach, then her hips to the tops of her thighs, where he grabbed the edge of her T-shirt and yanked it over her head.

“What are you doing?” she gasped, closing her eyes as she tried to face him.

He wouldn’t let her. “Open your eyes, Sam,” Tristan demanded.

It took everything she had, but eventually, she did as he requested, finding her reflection in the mirror, stripped down to her blue cotton panties and nothing else.

She took a breath, embarrassment making her hands shake. She folded her arms over her chest, wanting refuge, but he immediately lowered them, revealing her large breasts and soft stomach. Her eyes met his reflection, silently questioning how long he intended to play this game. His face remained genuine. This wasn’t a game to him.

Squeezing her hands into fists, she blinked a couple of timesand focused on her flushed face, which was naked ofmakeup.

Her cheeks were rosy from embarrassment, but she forced herself to move beyond her critical gaze, finding her own expression real, raw, and open.

Her shoulders relaxed a little, and she took a breath, searching her features as though they belonged to a stranger. Large hazel eyes stared back at her, then shifted to her pert nose. Her skin appeared so pale compared to Tristan’s, but it was flawless. He nodded in encouragement, giving her a lopsided grin that always made her want to kiss it away.

Lowering her gaze, she held her breath and found her breasts that were usually hidden behind baggy T-shirts. Then, she went farther to the soft pooch of her stomach, whichnever went away, no matter how many sit-ups she did. She was full, and round, and curvy no matter how much she dieted. But for the first time, she allowed her mind to push away her lack of confidence and see the woman who stood before her. Yes, her breasts were heavy, not sitting up straight like those women in the magazines. They settled a little lower, a little more comfortable. Her hips were round and curvy. She had to admit,if she lived in another century, painters like Rubens would have coveted her image. Because they would’ve seen the buttery softness of her skin. The airbrushed quality which made everyone say how jealous they were.

She followed the lines of her curves, which oozed femininity and pulsed life. Why was she always so hard on herself? Why did she compare herself to every person who walked into the room?

She glanced at Tristan again, and this time his eyebrow rose victoriously. “Told you so.” He smiled.

His reaction caused a laugh to burst from her chest.

He turned her to face him, pulling her by the hips until she was close enough that he could wrap his arms around her waist.“See,” he breathed against her neck, giving her goosebumps. “You’re beautiful, Sammy Smiles.”

In that moment, possibly more than at any other time in her entire life, she felt it. “You’re beautiful, too, Tristan.”

But she didn’t mean his appearance. His heart was beautiful. His soul was beautiful. He was the most loyal, hardworking, and tender man she’d ever met, and she would never stop loving him.

He pulled away slightly, his nose wrinkling above his crooked grin. “Is that the best you can come up with?”

---