Page 85 of Finding the Pieces

“My sister went through the same thing when she had my niece six months before our family vacation. Do you know what I told her?” Abby asks. “That her boobs would steal the show, and wouldn’t you know it, four guys asked for her number that day…in front of her husband…with a six-month-old on her hip.”

“Ah, but she hadsix-monthpostpartum boobs. Much different fromyear-and-halfpostpartum boobs. A lot less lift, unfortunately. The ladies have gotten the message that the party is over and they have retired to their new home…way closer to sea level.”

“Ellie,” Abby says with a laugh. “Okay, I’m not an expert in having a healthy relationship with my body, but I do think that this could be good for you. You don’t have to take the cover-up off if you don’t want to. Those things are made to get wet anyway. But…I don’t want you to wake up someday and feel like kicking your perfectly hot, younger self in the ass for not getting in the ocean with your friends, all because of one small voice convincing you you’re not worthy of having the experience. Your body doesn’t exist to stay this perfectly preserved thing. We’re supposed to live in them. That means a little change, a little wear and tear, and a lot of love.”

She steps toward me and reaches her hand for mine. “Don’t punish yourself because of some lie your brain is trying to sell you. You in?”

I smile and grab her hand as she helps me stand. Before I can think too much about it, I take off my cover-up and replay Abby’s words in my mind, letting them bolster the little self-esteem I have left in this mom bod of mine.

Should I be proud of it for getting me and Luca here safely? I am.

Do I still struggle with the changes? Of course.

But Abby’s right. The thought of living with regret scares me more than what others might think or say about my stretch marks, extra rolls, and jiggles. I don’t want to be scared of living in this body. Someday, I’d like to feel proud of it.

“I’m in,” I say, and we link arms, eventually joining the girls in the waves, gratitude rolling in steady along with the tide.

Chapter forty-five

Ellie

“Imight have gone a little overboard,” Evie warns us as we join her in the living room of the beach house.

I clap my hands together at the sight before me and rock onto my tiptoes. “Oh my god, Eves,” I yell. “Where did you find all this?”

I have no clue how Evie fit everything in her bag, but this is like a gold mine of nostalgia. Anything I’d have at a sleepover growing up is here. Disposable cameras, a copy ofGoosebumps, glow sticks, a Tamagotchi, matching tie-dye shirts, Pop Rocks, neon nail polish, toe socks, and a stack of magazines. I hold up an old toy they used to advertise as an easy way to twist hair…theylied.

“I can’t believe they still make those things,” Evie says. “I always wanted one growing up, but my mom said it’d rip out my hair. Then Aiden teased me and said he’d help me with it, and I didn’t trust the smart-ass little shit, so I never asked my mom again.”

“Ugh, he’s the worst,” Bec says with a smirk.

“Ugh, right?” Evie laughs.

“I hate to ruin your dream, but yeah, these will ruin your hair,” I say. “It took my mom hours to detangle mine when I tried to make cute twists with gemstones in middle school.”

Evie plops onto the ground, her back to me, crisscrossing her legs. “Do the honors, Ellie. I won’t live forever. It’s worth the risk.”

An hour later, we’ve walked down memory lane, filled up on popcorn and candy, and spoiled the shit out of one very happy Tamagotchi. Dom probably doesn’t even realize how his selflessness impacts more people than he intended to. He did this for me, but when Evie explains that she never had a sleepover growing up, and watching her recreate what she always wanted, it’s clear that this means something to my friends too.

Dominic’s thoughtfulness can only take me so far.

It’s time I put in the effort too.

I wait and enjoy the activities Evie planned for the night. We play Never Have I Ever and cut up magazines to make up our vision boards of what our “grown-up” lives will look like and who our “dream partners” will be. If there’s one thing I learned growing up having sleepovers with Bec, it’s the inevitable heart-to-heart at the end of the night. No sleepover is ever complete without it.

When it’s my turn, I finally share my story.

***

“Holy shit, Ellie. That is…” For the first time in years of friendship, maybe the first time ever in her life, Dee is speechless.

I attempt to calm my racing heart after finally telling the girls what happened when Luca was born. It’s the first time I’ve told anyone other than Dom what happened, from beginning to end. I couldn’t look at any of them; I kept my eyes closed or stared at my hands, folded tightly in my lap.

When I finally gather the courage to look up, I catch Dee’s gaze first. She looks at me, her expression…heartbroken? Tears collect at the corners of her eyes. She just sniffs quietly and takes my hand in hers, squeezing tightly.

Sometimes, there aren’t words.

“I know. It’s a lot. It’s been easier to not talk about it. To pretend the worst details were things I made up in my mind. Giving voice to them felt like it wouldmake them real. I didn’t want to relieve it all, but clearly holding it in isn’t working either.”

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