Page 5 of Grace Notes
He knows me too well. I needed a moment to breathe in the air without him in it because once he’s close, I can hardly breathe.
Wiggling, I kick the dress off my legs until it lays on the floor. “It doesn’t fit, and I know I’m not as small as I used to be—but I feel especially fat today.”
Brooks takes a tentative step towards the bed, and I lower my brows, glaring at him. “And don’t you dare say I’m not fat. I just need a moment to wallow about not being able to fit into that dress.”
Holding his hands up, he signals that he isn’t going to fight me on this, but he doesn’t stop walking toward me. His steps are slow and even, and I watch him, my breathing becoming a little stuttered.
The man is beautiful.
If I told him that, he’d glower at me—a look that is sexier than it is intimidating—and grumble about men not being beautiful. I keep my opinion to myself, even if I love how that look sends flames through my veins when it’s turned my way.
“I wouldn’t dream of not letting you have your moment,” he says, finally standing in front of me at the foot of the bed.
There’s a smirk on his lips and hunger in his eyes that sends a shiver down my spine.
Brooks’s eyes narrow in on the movement, and his smirk grows wider. He leans down in what feels like slow motion, crowding my space until I’m lying back on the bed. His fists land on either side of my head, his face hovering just above mine.
“It’s silly. I know,” I say, cutting my eyes to the side to avoid his gaze because the weight of it is too heavy.
“I don’t think you’re silly,” his words fan against my cheek, and I swallow hard. “But I do think you’re beautiful. You don’t need a wedding dress to tell you that—not when I’m here to tell you every day.”
He lifts one hand, bracing all his weight on the other, and gently turns my chin towards him. Tears still swim in my eyes, and my emotions feel like they’ve been run through a grater—all because of one silly dress. But when I meet Brooks’s gaze, I feel perfect, and cherished, and wanted, and so danged loved. He makes me forget all my imperfections because, in his eyes, they don’t exist. He can see past them to the woman he loves.
“Sometimes,” I start, “when I stare in the mirror, my body is all I can see—the way my hips are a little too wide or my stomach a little too pudgy—and I convince myself that’s all others can see when they look at me, too.”
“Can I tell you what I see?” He asks, the hand on my chin falling to my hip.
I nod, my throat too thick for words.
“I see,” he says, kissing my jawline, “A woman—not a college girl that I married six years ago, but a woman that gave me a beautiful daughter—a woman with curves that drive me crazy. I look at you, and I see forever.”
The need to pull him down and crush my lips to mine is overwhelming. Dragging my hand up his chest, I let it trail until I reach his neck. Then I pull his face down to mine and kiss him, letting him feel how the words take away some of my hurt.
And when he pulls back, we are both left breathless. His chest heaves, and I smirk, giving him the same cocky smile he usually gives me. “I see you, too, you know. And I wouldn’t want to be doing this life with anyone else.”
His nose brushes against mine, and he smiles. “Buy a new dress, darlin’. Find one that fits the woman you are now. But just know, I would love you in a potato sack.”
I smile, looking up at the man who will always define love for me.
______________________
“Mommy, I’m done,” Avery yells from the bathroom where she’s taking a bath.
At four, she’s independent to a fault, but no matter how hard she tries, she still can’t get the tangles from her hair. So, every night after her bath, she calls me in. I wrap her in a towel, sit her on the vanity, and brush her hair while she talks about her day.
I dread the day she can do it on her own. She’s getting too big, faster than my heart is ready for.
Walking into the bathroom, I grab a towel, scoop her out of the tub, and wrap it around her. She giggles when I grunt, pretending she’s too heavy.
“When did you get so big, Avery Bug?” I ask, setting her on the counter and grabbing the detangler. “I don’t like it. You’ve got to stop growing up so fast.”
She shrugs. “It was probably that broccoli you made me eat at supper. I better not eat it again so I don’t grow so fast.”
I have to choke back my laughter, covering up with a cough. The girl has an answer for everything. Brooks and I are in trouble when she becomes a teenager.
“Nice try, Bug.”
Her nose scrunches, and I tap it before picking up the hairbrush and running it through the ends of her hair.
