Page 21 of Ugly Duckling
“Why’d you get divorced so fast?” he asked.
I forgot how inquisitive Gunner was.
I also forgot he was one of the nice ones when I was in high school.
He never had a mean thing to say, and likely his earlier comment wasn’t directed at my ugliness as what my mind automatically reverted to.
I wilted. “He shoved my face into our wedding cake. It had wooden dowel rods as supports, and when he did that, they pierced my eye and face. When I pulled away, I degloved my face.”
He stared at me in horror. “You’re joking, right?”
I pointed at my face. “New face. How else would I have gotten it?”
That was the one good thing to come out of it all.
The way that my face had been mangled, I’d been forced to get plastic surgery.
And since my face was already a wreck, I went ahead and had it fixed while the plastic surgeon was working on it.
“You’re not joking.” He blinked.
“Not even a little bit. Though, I wish I was,” I admitted. “I did get them to fix my big nose, though. Since they were already working on everything else.”
“I don’t know what to say,” he declared.
“Nothing to say, really.”
“Daddy, down!”
Absentmindedly, he pulled her out of the stroller and set her on her feet next to it.
She reached for his cup of spaghetti, and he gave her a bite.
My smile was soft when I said, “Rocky didn’t tell me you had a daughter.”
“Rocky doesn’t share anything.” He gestured to my face. “She didn’t tell me that you’d been assaulted by your new husband, either.”
I snorted.
“Fuck, man,” a loud voice called from somewhere beyond us. “What the fuck was that? You didn’t tell us you could run.”
Before he could say anything, I said, “He probably doesn’t. Gunner’s just really good at anything athletic. He literally just qualified for Boston, and he didn’t break a sweat.”
“I sweated,” he mumbled.
“Now I have to run.” The man looked at me, and I was startled with just how handsome he was. And big. Really damn big.
He was also wearing a black leather vest of sorts with the name “Cutter” over his heart.
“I can give you a good training plan if you want,” I offered, still breathless.
“That was amazing, girl. First place,” another man said. “How do y’all know each other?”
“We went to the same high school,” I started to say as Gunner followed up with, “She was the yin to my yang. The female version of me. All-American track in high school. Made state with her mile and mile and a half. Got MVP and made UIL All District with basketball and volleyball.”
“Ahh,” the man whose vest read “Cakes” said. “That makes sense. You both looked like you were made to be out there today.”
“He was for sure.” I reached for the spaghetti, my tummy finally settling.
