Page 60 of Easy Reunion
“I… It’s just…” Squaring her shoulders, she sits back. “I refuse to be ashamed of my decisions.”
I sit back and pick up my glass of wine. “Of course not. What decision?”
“How I changed—how my life changed.”
Confused, I shake my head a little. “Why would you be? You’ve worked so hard to change…”
“I had gastric bypass surgery,” she blurts out.
My jaw unhinges. “What?” I’d heard of the medical procedure certainly; any number of famous stars had it done, but most of them were ridiculed for putting the weight back on so quickly.
“Most people when they hear that think I took the easy way out, that I didn’t try hard enough to lose weight, but I did,” she says earnestly. Her gray eyes turn stormy. “For years, Angel and I worked out almost daily. She helped me watch what I ate. I worked with doctors before I finally went to a surgeon for assistance.”
I understand the words she’s saying, but I can’t quite put it all together. “You mean…”
“I had a doctor remove part of my stomach and intestines to help me lose weight, yes.” Her voice is devoid of emotion. Rote, as if she’s had this conversation numerous times. And I expect she has. But there’s something else there. My eyes narrow on her carefully.
She’s anxious—no, fucking terrified—of being judged. Again.
I put my glass down. My fingers trail along the stem. “I admire the decisions you’ve made.” Her expression clearly shows her disbelief, making me want to demand the names of the people who have judged her so I can go after every one. How much heartache can a single person endure in one lifetime? “Jesus, Kelsey, deciding to have this surgery couldn’t have been easy.”
Still not meeting my gaze, she runs her finger over the lip of her glass. “It wasn’t. But I was so tired of not being enough. Of working so hard for what? A sympathetic smile when I’d arrive at another party alone? A pity date where a friend would take me to a major dance? You see, high school was a nightmare I would never wish on my worst enemy, but college was a metamorphosis. I went in ugly, wrapped myself in a cocoon, and after it was over, emerged entirely different.”
“So, college wasn’t better for you?” My heart aches, but that pain lessens when her smile spreads across her face.
“Oh, it was completely different. Trust me when I say, from the first day there, college gave me the will to survive that Forsyth stripped from me.”
My pride and shame war with each other. “You are utterly incredible,” I say honestly.
A flush stains her cheeks. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“What are the statistics for people regaining their weight after a surgery like yours?” I challenge her. I’m unsurprised when she begins rattling them off. “So, what you’re telling me is you had this procedure over ten years ago, you beat the curve of the amount of weight you lost, and you’ve kept it off longer? That’s not the luck of the draw, Kelsey. That’s a strength of character—something, I might add, you’ve always had.” I finish off my wine and push to my feet.
Reaching down, I hold out my hand. “Will you trust me?”
She’s staring straight forward, her dinner napkin clenched in her hands. She’s lost in a world I have no way of reaching her in, so I bring her back to this one by gently reaching over and brushing her hair behind her ear. Startled, she smiles. “Come with me.” I cup the side of her jaw as I draw her to her feet. She drops the napkin in the vicinity of the table. It flutters to the floor in a heap of cream-colored linen.
Taking her hand, I make certain she doesn’t slip on it as I guide her to the back door. Flicking a switch, I turn and face her before asking again, “Will you trust me?”
Slowly, the wariness in her face is lined with a painful longing. Maybe I’ll be able to do something to erase it. Clasping her delicate hand in my larger one, I open the back door. The hours I spent at Lisa’s direction hanging the thousands of lights in the trees seem worth it when Kelsey gasps with pleasure. “Ry…” She breaks away and steps down the few stairs. Moving across the stone patio that connects our garage to the main house, she spins around, arms and hair flying wide. Her lips are curved when she faces me again. I know for this moment, she’s willing to take a risk with me.
It’s more than I ever hoped and dreamed for, but before I can cross to her, I need to say what’s been on my soul.
“You’re beautiful,” I rasp. I jump down the steps and am in front of her before she can protest. “You are,” I emphasize. “It has nothing to do with this—” I drag my fingers down her face until they rest upon her heart. “—and everything to do with what’s here.”
The strung lights enhance the ones twinkling down at us overhead. Pulling her closer, I tip her chin up. “Can you see the star right there?”
She nods. “The North Star.”
“You’ve been mine, Kelsey.” Her shock is evident. I plow on. “I read a poem once that said the north was supposed to represent wisdom. You’ve been my guide, my touchstone, even when you weren’t in my life.” With a shrug, I give her a crooked smile. “Maybe intuitively, I knew you were living in Connecticut waiting for me.”
“What does the poem say happens in the south?”
I swallow convulsively. “A person is supposed to find the wisdom of their heart.”
What happens next should have dropped me to my knees. Her hand reaches up to cup my cheek. “Maybe it’s time to go south.” The fingers at my jaw urge me to look down.
And it’s there waiting in my arms. The forgiveness I sought entwined with so much more. My forehead crashes down to hers. A harsh sob is pulled from my chest that I unsuccessfully try to suppress. I’m not so blinded by my own tears I can’t see the ones falling from her eyes.
