Page 127 of On My Side
“Call in,” I demand for what must be the six hundredth time.
He grins at me through the mirror. “But sweetheart, the winter concert is in two weeks, and it would be unbelievably cruel to put a poor sub in that position.”
“I need you to get me pregnant immediately,” I respond.
He laughs. “Okay, well, I’m otherwise occupied at the moment, so that will have to wait.” He walks to the bed and sits on the edge. I’m still blissfully bare and tangled in the sheets that smelllike him. “You can stay, if you want,” he offers before kissing me. “Listen to that audio we made last night again…”
My nipples harden at the thought and I sigh. “Since you’re being a responsible adult, I probably should, too.”
“Adulthood is a scam,” he murmurs, pulling away from me. I don’t let him go far before grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him in for another deep kiss.
Ren takes me home on his way to school, and I force myself to shower before going to the inn. Doing such routine things without him feels wrong—he’s ingrained himself into so much of my life. I’m finding that after years of choosing to be alone, of choosing not to let anyone get close enough to become part of the day-to-day, life isn’t as exhausting when I spend it with the person who makes it better.
When I open the door the night before Thanksgiving, there’s Ren, homemade pie in hand, and a cat carrier on his shoulder. “Hey,” he says, stepping through the doorway and leaning in to kiss me. I let his lips press to mine, for just a moment, before I take the pie from him and Piper runs in for her routine catnapping.
“Mom made the pie,” he tells me as he walks into the kitchen. “It’s blueberry. She insisted I bring it.”
His hands wrap around my waist, trapping me between him and the countertop. He ducks his head to kiss the side of my neck, one hand moves to grip my hip, and the other slides down the front of my belly.
I stiffen, and without giving it much thought, snag his wrists and step out of his way, pulling my big, threadbare t-shirt down farther.
“Aud?” he asks, and I hate hearing his worry.
“Sorry,” I say, turning to him, but refusing to meet his eyes. I try to smile as I wrap my arms around my middle. “Just warmin here because I’ve been cooking. The pie sounds great though, Piper’s gonna love it.”
He doesn’t seem to buy my lie. His gaze looks me up and down, and I feel nauseous that he sees me the same way I saw myself in the mirror this morning.
“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, because ofcoursehe knows something is wrong.
“Nothing,” I lie again. I continue making the cheesecake we’ll eat for breakfast tomorrow, hoping he’ll drop it. “Was Piper happy you brought Leia?”
He’s quiet when he stands beside me, beginning to tackle the dishes piled in the sink. Then, he speaks again. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he encourages softly. “What’s going on?”
Tears threaten to spill. How annoying that he’s able to see through me.
“It’s not important,” I say, voice trembling.
“You’reimportant and so is the way you feel. Please, Aud? I want to try to understand.”
“When I got home, I took a shower,” I whisper, “And when I looked in the mirror, I hated what I saw. Most days I’m fine, but some days, it’s hard. And when I think about how you could have any woman you wanted but you’re stuck with me…”
“Stuckwith you?” Ren turns me around, confusion on his face. He cups my face. “Audrey Elise,” he says sincerely, “it’s the honor of a lifetime to love you. I know I said I’d love you no matter what your body looked like, and that’s one thousand percent true, but Idolove your body. All of it. I understand you don’t sometimes, and that society has ridiculously impossible beauty standards for women, but you’re a goddamn goddess, sweetheart.”
I sniffle. “I doubt goddesses feel like this.”
He grabs my hand. “Come on.”
“What are you doing?” I ask, confused as he pulls me out of the kitchen and down the hallway. He opens my bedroom door, closing it once I’m in the room.
“I’m not doing anything,” he says simply, turning to face me. I bite my lower lip as I scan his body. God, this man calling me a goddess when he’s in front of me looking like that? All grumpy-looking with his unruly hair in his face and slutty little glasses on and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
He looks positively scrumptious.
“You, however,” he continues, “are going to be stripping.”
“What?” I squeak.
“Can I show you how I see you?” he asks gently, stepping forward and rubbing my arms. “Do you think we can look at your body in a nonjudgmental way, sweetheart?”
