Page 29 of Fierce Love
“A North American eighteen,” Twyla says, and I can tell by the way she says it that she’s not impressed with this conversation either, even if it was her job to bring it up to production.
Every time Stew opens his mouth, my mood darkens. Defending Hollyn’s beauty feels like crossing a line, but I can’t leave his remarks alone. “Hollyn Davis is more than a pretty face. At least a third of the people in Bellerive will identify with Hollyn based on body type alone. Highlighting diversity, in all its forms, is important to this production.” Not to mention that I think Hollyn is one of the most gorgeous people to ever exist, no matter what size her body is. From the moment she touched my back at the bar, she’s owned a piece of me that no one else has ever been able to claim. She was beautiful to me when we were teenagers, and seeing her now, she’s just as exquisite.
I know what her extra weight means. Stability. Regular meals. A chance to indulge in a way that was denied to her as a kid. The privilege of aging—one of many things that used to sit heavily on Hollyn when we were younger. Life expectancy on the island, when broken down by socioeconomic status, isn’t pretty.I’m sure she doesn’t begrudge her metabolism slowing down, because it means she’s made it this far.
But saying any of that in this room reveals a lot more than I’m comfortable discussing at this point. Half of it doesn’t even feel like mine to tell when it’s so closely connected to Hollyn, a woman I don’t even know anymore.
“Do I need to throw more money at these designers, or what?” I ask, pinning Twyla with my gaze.
“I doubt it, but you can try. They all told me they didn’t want to get into the plus-size market and they didn’t want to give Bellerive, and the world if it’s picked up by Interflix, the wrong idea.” Twyla repositions her computer in front of her.
“Fuck ’em,” I say. “We’ll source clothing from elsewhere for Hollyn.”
“I believe that’s my call,” Stewart says from the other side of the table.
“Not anymore,” I say, staring him down. “I’m the money guy, and the money guy gets what he wants, and I don’t want you anywhere near the day-to-day when your discrimination is so blatant. Neither of our stars are going to quit or feel diminished in any way because of something happening within our crew. I won’t allow it.”
“Hollyn signed to the show with the understanding that you—” Felipe starts.
“I’ll talk to her,” I say, cutting him off. The thought of seeking her out sends a shot of adrenaline down my spine, and I try to ignore it. Fucking Cal was right. Stewart was a dick, and I couldn’t handle it. Cal will fall on the floor with laughter next time I see him. “I’m not worried about working together.” Which is, possibly, the biggest lie I’ve ever told.
Chapter Thirteen
Hollyn
When the apartment buzzer pierces the quiet of Aunt Verna’s apartment, I’m surprised at how much the noise takes me back to my childhood. For years, the buzzer was attached to a box by the door, and you’d talk to the person trying to gain entry.
Like almost every other aspect of life, things have changed in the last fourteen years. Now the voice box has been replaced with a display screen, and on it, clear as day, is Nathaniel Tucker, in all his six-foot-plus glory.
It's criminal how attractive he still is with his hands shoved into the pockets of his suit pants, and when he stares up into the camera, as though he can sense me even through the technology, a shiver races down my spine.
Some part of me, some deep, deep part of me, still wants him, still remembers what it was like to have his big hands exploring my figure, bringing me to life in ways I didn’t know someoneelse could do. That summer, he’d known my body almost better than I knew it myself. No man since has taken so much care in exploring every inch of me, memorizing every curve and crease, using every moan and sigh to guide the next brush of his fingers—rough or firm or featherlight. Unbelievable to havethatat eighteen and not again since.
Instead of hitting the talk icon, I stare back at him for a few beats, scanning his features, taking in the familiar and noting the places where time has left its mark. It’s not the first time I’ve stared at him since I returned, but I can’t seem to help searching his face for something, but I don’t know what I’m trying to find.
I don’t know exactly what he might feel toward me, but it’s apparent that what I feel is going to be a problem. The obsessive love I once felt for him could so easily take hold again, and the smart thing to do is ignore him right now. He doesn’t know I’m home or even here. Seeing him alone in this apartment is a bad idea. I bite my lip and stare at his image for another beat while my heart races up into my throat.
I buzz him up without a word. It wouldn’t matter what he said about why he’s here. Now that I’ve seen him standing there, I can’t turn him away. Which was my problem with Nate from the first night we met. Denying him anything was always a mountain I didn’t want to climb, an ocean I didn’t want to swim across. Whenever we were together, it was so much easier to bask in the glow, the warmth, of him, of us—to say yes to it all.
I turn from the screen and take in Aunt Verna’s apartment.
Oh no.
I’ve been so busy decluttering and sorting through my aunt’s things that the place is a mess. Clothes and old bills and knickknacks are strewn everywhere. She’d be mortified to know I allowed anyone into this apartment with it looking like this. Frantically, I start gathering things up, shoving papers and trinkets in any drawer I can find, any bag I can reach.
Luckily, Kinsley went to a free dance class with another girl her age from the apartment complex. To my sister’s credit, she’s thrown herself into this new life. Bellerive is a country that feels like a series of small towns—everyone knows everyone—and I’m less wary of letting Kinsley go places with other families. Everything across the island has six degrees of separation, and when I called Shannon to check on the girl’s family, she assured me they were good people.
That sense of the island as one big family is a perk I completely forgot about in the years I’ve been away, and I’m not sure my teenage self would have considered everyone knowing everything a perk back then. There have to be some positives to counter the negatives of staying here for an extended period of time.
Like the negative of this man about to reach the apartment at any moment. No sooner has the thought gone through my head than I hear the briefest brush of knuckles on the door. I scan the main room to find that it’s barely presentable. The love seat is clear of clutter and little else. He can sit. I’ll stand. I can stand.
I send up a silent apology to my aunt, and I swing the door back.
I’m barefoot, and although I’m tall at five-eight, it still feels like Nate towers over me. But for the first time, I’m a little self-conscious of every pound of the one hundred I’ve gained. Most days, I’m good with my body. It does what I need it to do, and I’ve never had any complaints from the men I’ve chosen to be with. But it took me a long time to be with anyone after Nate, and my hungry-thinness was in the distant past by then. He can’t possibly look at me and still feel the same as he once did.
But when I glance up, I realize my initial thought about him was wrong. Nate could never be a negative in my life. Even if he hates me. Even if he no longer finds me remotely attractive. Even if we’ll never be what we once were to each other. Evenif his eyes no longer spark with loving delight when he meets my gaze. He’s a fountain of care and good intentions, and even if those things aren’t directly aimed at me anymore, I can’t put him, as a person, in the negative column. He’d never deserve to be lumped in with my parents.
I want to force him into the negative column because of the choicesImade, but that wouldn’t be fair.
