Page 97 of Set on You

Then the video switches to a workout we did together some weeks after we agreed to the three-month rule. I think we must have forgotten the camera was on us.

We’re recovering on a mat, legs splayed in front of us, just shooting the shit, as we always did. I’m calling him an anti-vaxxer (which he fiercely denies) and bugging him about how I kicked his ass in burpees (which I did). I can barely breathe, both from the workout but also because he’s grinning uncontrollably at me. The video stops, frozen on the shot of me mid-laugh.

Then, the video switches to a montage of Scott making funny faces at the camera before getting serious and shooting my workouts. There are a few shots of him giving me a kiss, and even one where we’re trying to take a photo together on my couch, not realizing it was on video mode.

The video transitions to a session with Mel. I was documentingMel’s push-up form. It’s from the day after we found out Martin was healthy. The camera pans to Scott a couple feet away, doing box jumps. “Hi, babe,” I call out. My hand enters the shot, waving at him.

The camera pans back to Mel, who gives me a funny smile. “You guys are too cute.”

My chuckle fills the room. “Stop.”

“You love him,” Mel teases.

“I do,” I say. I then switch the camera mode onto my smiling face. “I love him.”

Scott appears stunned. He’s staring at the screen, captivated, as more video and photos roll by of us at Flo and Martin’s wedding. Then the photo of us at the beach reappears.

He turns in my direction when I crack the closet door open. At that precise moment, the broom falls, whacking me on the head yet again as I emerge from my hiding spot.

chapter thirty-five

HE’S LIKE Afrozen statue. A deer in the headlights. Not even the fact that the yoga mats spilled out of the closet like an avalanche fazes him. His gaze darts from me to the projected video on the gym wall.

“I have some explaining to do.” I twist my fingers together, unable to fight my nerves, while praying my broom-induced injury won’t turn into a goose egg. Any sense of chill I had is completely gone. “First and foremost, I love you. And I hate that I never told you when you asked, because it was the truth. I’ve loved you for an embarrassingly long time, as you saw in the video.”

My gaze follows the bob in his throat as he swallows. He looks like he’s in complete anguish. In fact, I’m convinced he’s about to turn around and walk away from me for good. But he doesn’t. He stays in place and dips his chin for me to continue.

I had my entire speech prepared, but now that he’s right in frontof me, all my thoughts stream through like water from a bursting dam. Whatever’s about to come out of my mouth is going to be anything but smooth.

“The truth is, what happened was more than just the viral photo. Growing up, I had this weird complex where I never felt quite good enough. And it wasn’t only because of my size. It was everything. I never thought I was good enough at sports, or smart enough for school, or funny enough for my friends.” I pause to take in a breath. “That all changed a bit when I started building my platform. I started gaining acceptance from complete strangers, and I thought, wow, I really love myself now.”

His face softens more and more as I continue to ramble.

“I’ve tried to dedicate my platform to helping people feel the opposite of how I’ve felt. It was like an escape from how I was truly feeling inside, especially when I was with Neil. And it worked, for the most part...” I wring my hands in front of me, unable to stop fidgeting. “But as my platform grew, the comments kept getting worse. I didn’t want to say anything. I’ve preached the entire time to ignore haters. It became an obsession, because I was desperate to change people’s minds. I was desperate to prove myself, in a way, and I let it become my identity.”

Scott takes a small step forward, as if he wants to say something. But he doesn’t. He just lets me speak.

“When the photo blew up, it was like a manifestation of everything I was afraid of. That somehow, I wasn’t worthy. I’m sorry I didn’t consider your feelings. I’m sorry I didn’t acknowledge how awful it was for you too. I was being selfish. Completely.” He nods, which I take as acceptance. “I understand why you were worried about me and why you responded to those comments. And I think I’ve figured out acompromise. A way to disengage from the negativity, while still having a personal connection with my clients and supporters.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear that,” he says genuinely, still keeping his distance.

“Scott, I know I can never make it up to you. It took me longer than it should have to realize that I trust you more than anyone. It was myself I didn’t trust, because I was holding myself to an unattainable standard. And I know that now.” I pause. “I realized... loving myself isn’t realistic at all times. I’m allowed to feel self-conscious and sad at times, but also confident and happy at other times, as long as I’m accepting and respecting myself. And I want you on my team.”

He readjusts the helmet under his arm. “That’s a lot to work through. I’m really proud of you.” His tone is soft and genuine. “But for the record, it was wrong of me to respond to the comments. I’ve felt like shit about it for days. I know how passionate you are about your platform and I never want to stand in the way of that. I overreacted because of my own experience as a kid. But I never should have projected it onto you. I know you can handle it yourself.”

“You’re already forgiven.”

He runs his hand over his stubble. “I-I can’t believe you staged a fire call.” He turns to the window where the crew are not-so-subtly watching our exchange. “You guys were all in on this?”

They nod and each give an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

“I think this is the most extra thing I’ve ever done,” I admit with a half laugh, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. To feel his huge arms around me. “I know this is a lot to take in.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I continue. “I wanted to tell you how much I love you and the person you are. I know I should have told you earlier, when I first realized it. I miss your stupid pickuplines. I miss watching movies alone when you fall asleep beside me. And I miss laughing with you until we cry.”

“You really miss my pickup lines?” A flicker of that cocky grin returns, but only for a fleeting second. He rocks back on his heels before inching forward, towering over me, just as he did that first day we met when he was callously stealing my squat rack. Heat radiates from his body.

“I do. Even the worst ones.”

The smoldering smirk is back. Even his dimples make an appearance. It’s understated, as if he’s genuinely both relieved and happy.

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