Page 53 of Surprise Baby for Mr. Fischer
I sucked his finger into my mouth. One look at him, and I wanted to push him down on the table and kiss every inch of his body, but right now wasn’t about using physical intimacy to avoid the answers he sought.
With a groan, he pulled his finger from my mouth. “Are you trying to distract me?”
“No.”
He raised an eyebrow at me.
“Maybe a little.” I winced. “It wasn’t intentional. I look at you, and I want a repeat of last night.”
He placed a kiss on my lips. “I do too, but right now—”
“Isn’t the time.” I let my forehead rest against his. “I want to tell you.”
He leaned back. “I want to listen.”
“It was humiliating.” My throat burned with unshed tears. “You met Whitney.”
I waited for his nod.
“She and I became friends in kindergarten. Our moms were friends, too. I think we gravitated toward each other because we were always a little overweight. Together we pretended the snide comments didn’t matter.
“Not all the kids were mean, but enough of them had me question my body and how attractive I was. Or whether a boy would ever like me.” I stood and walked to the nearby kitchen counter. I needed to do something while I shared this part of me. Lincoln had probably never known a moment where other kids weren’t drawn to him. He had charisma.
“Kids can be cruel.” When I glanced back at him, still sitting at the table, he gave me a sad smile.
I ran my fingers over the gray granite countertop, stopping to pick up the bread and placed it in the bread box. “They can be. Whitney was done with being overweight. We were sixteen, and all she talked about was wanting to get invited to pool parties that summer and how we wouldn’t fit in. The more she talked, the worse I felt about myself.” I paused. Sharing my lack of confidence was hard, but looking at Lincoln gave me the strength I needed. “Then she came to me. Her parents agreed to let her participate in a weight loss camp, and she wanted me to apply. To say I was intrigued is putting it mildly. The part that terrified me was that it would be filmed and televised.” I continued to put away our sandwich supplies.
“The Greatest Loser?” Lincoln asked, hitting the nail on the head.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. The show had been a big deal. “Yeah,” I whispered. “That season had people partnered up, and Whitney had already mentioned me to the producers. Her parents felt better knowing she was there with a friend. They approached my parents.”
“God, Harper. That show can be vicious to contestants,” he said from over my shoulder. When his arms slid around my waist, I couldn’t stop myself from leaning into him. I found comfort in his touch. A sense of security allowing me to feel safe enough to share this defining moment in my life.
The day I learned how the press and social media could destroy your life.
My heart beat erratically, and my throat tightened around the lump building. I wanted to do this, but starting my story was even harder to imagine. My family and Whitney knew what happened, but this was the first time I shared my side of the story to someone in the last eight years. It had been easier to bury the pain.
My words came out in a hoarse strangled tone. “It was their second season. Maybe they thought having a teen version would bring in a bigger audience. I don’t know.”
His arm tightened around me, and a whisper of a kiss ruffled the hair on top of my head.
I cleared my throat. “My parents were nervous about me being away from home and never pushed me to go. They wanted me happy and knew over the past few months I was anything but that. I’d grown sullen, quiet. All the negative talk about our weight from Whitney and the media telling me I should be thin consumed me. Eventually, I applied and got accepted.”
My eyes squeezed shut. I wished I could erase the onslaught of images flashing across my mind. “Whitney and I agreed to help each other out during the competition. In the end, we both couldn’t win, but we’d be an unstoppable team until then. The first few days were exciting—meeting the other contestants and the celebrities joining us as commentators, coaches, and judges. The only rule was that we had no control over our food and had to discuss our experiences in the booth honestly.” I despised that booth, the probing questions I was expected to answer, always wondering how I would look to the people back home.
“Didn’t they start everyone on an elimination diet?” he asked, his gaze turned thoughtful.
“Yes. And it made sense. The elimination diet was used to find the foods our bodies didn’t process well. I lost quite a few pounds the first week. It was exhilarating.” That first week had been the best time. In week two, the blinders were ripped off.
“I didn’t watch the show much. They had contestants take part in challenges, right?”
I hesitated at his question, pain lanced through my chest. “They did. The first few were easy, but the challenges became increasingly more difficult. The show’s producers started to pit us against each other. There were times it was like an episode of the Hunger Games—everyone out for themselves, teammates turning against each other.”
My lips twisted at remembering when I began fearing for my safety. A flicker of unease turned into full blown worry when one contestant was sent home with a broken arm after a so-called prank went wrong. “Whitney and I promised not to be like that. But we were only in week five by this time, and public opinion favored me over many other contestants. Whitney didn’t say anything, but I knew it bothered her.”
Lincoln held me. His embrace was giving me the courage I needed to continue. I snuggled in, drawing confidence from his support.
I went on. “We were entering week six when she became super stressed. She was snapping at me for every little thing. Then she won a challenge, and with winning comes a prize. Later that day, we had a note delivered to our room from the producers. It said that for winning, she could go to the kitchen and eat whatever was left out, and that she could bring one person with her.”
