Page 30 of #Beautiful

Chapter 25 - Lena

Mrs. Harp’s danced and sang to Christmas music since six this morning. Usually, I sleep in on Christmas Eve, but this year, it was the overly excited voice belting the lyrics to Deck the Halls. Declan’s grumbling was cute, too. He’s already down at the party, and I’m kinda hiding in his room. My dress for tonight is a black, long-sleeved velvet one that stops at the middle of my thigh. I wouldn’t usually wear something this short, but I bought it while I was purging and skinner. Instead of going downstairs, I’ve sat on the side of the bed, trying to talk myself out of this hit to my self-esteem.

“Get it together, Lena,” I snap at myself, running my fingers through my hair with a sigh. Is it going to be like this forever? How long does it take before I can put on clothes and not instantly attack myself for being a fat ass?

“Babe?”

I turn my head to find Declan standing in the doorway, his hand on the door knob, brows pulled together. “Hey.”

“Why are you crying, love? What’s wrong?”

My hands fly to my face, landing on wet cheeks. “Damn it.” Pushing off the bed, I almost stop to the bathroom. Leaning my thighs against the sink, I grab a tissue from the box and carefully wipe at the small amount of my mascara that’s run. Declan comes up behind me, resting his hands on my hips.

I stop fixing my make-up when he softly moves the tendril of my hair I left down and curled, his other arms sliding around me. He kisses the side of my neck as he pulls me back against him, and it’s impossible to miss his arousal pressing against my butt. My eyes close, and I sigh contently, tilting my head for him, as he steadily lashes his touch, moving toward my ear.

“You’re beautiful, babe,” he says between kisses. “I’m a lucky man.”

His words register, and the relief that blooms in my chest before I can stop it is huge. I love that when I’m doubting myself and feeling like I do tonight, all it takes is one statement from my boyfriend to reverse that. But I don’t want to be thirty and still not able to see myself as beautiful and strong unless Declan validates it. For right now, I’m okay with it, and I’ll take the compliments and love. I know he doesn’t say anything like this to me to validate me. Declan assumes I’m the most confident person in our group — well, he did until my insecurities caused all this crap.

“Can I tell you something without it coming off wrong?”

Declan stands and meets my gaze in the bathroom mirror. “Lena, you can tell me anything. Even if it does come out wrong.”

“I put this dress on and sat up here upset because I’ve put weight on since I bought it. Then I got angrier with myself because I got upset over gaining the weight. You just made all that go away, and I’m sad that I feel like I can only feel good about myself now when you validate it.”

My boyfriend steps back and rest his hands on my shoulders after guiding me to turn and meet his actual gaze. Bringing his hands upward, he gently holds my face, his pinky fingers nestle just along my jaw. “Listen to me, babe. You won’t always feel that way. Right now, your confidence and self-esteem are low. My compliments make you feel better. And that’s okay. Would you have thought less of me if when I hurt my shoulder, I needed you to constantly tell me that I would heal and be able to eventually play again?”

My brows pull together. “Of course not.”

Declan smiles a little. “Think of this the same way. I’m just helping while you’re healing.”

“So, does that mean when I’m past this, you’ll stop telling me how beautiful I am?” No sooner than I say it is Declan shaking his head with a worried looked on his face. “I’m kidding, hon. You’ve always told me how beautiful and smart you think I am. Before it made me feel good just because, ya know? Right now, it’s like I need it to feel normal or worthy, and that just is strange to me.”

Leaning forward, Declan kisses my forehead. “One day, it would be like that, so for now, just let me be the validation for as long as you need. And after, I can go back to complimenting you just to see if I can make you blush.”

I playfully swat his arm, and he puts his arm around my shoulder, guiding both of us out of the bathroom. We stop abruptly, realizing there’s an adult standing in the doorway. My brain takes a minute to catch up to my eyes, but when they do, I squeal, moving to the man quickly.

“Dad, what are you doing here? Is that a suit?”

My dad smiles from beneath his long, thick beard that finally has a small smattering of gray in it. “I thought Christmas together this year might be nice.”

I wrap my arms around his neck, and he leans down to encircle my waist. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me, too, kiddo,” he says with more emotion than I think I’ve heard my dad use in years.

When we step apart, Declan steps up and shakes my dad’s hand. I’m truly lucky that the only two relationships I’ve ever been in, my father has approved of both choices in men. Cameron and Declan are still extremely similar, but not in a weird way. It’s more a moral way. When I look at the two side-by-side in my head, they share some of the same faiths, values, expectations for life and people, boundaries . . . Things like that. To me, since Cameron was an amazing person, and Declan is amazing enough that I want forever with him, I don’t count it as wrong or bad.

Dad leads us down to the party, the music really hitting full-force as we hit the bottom of the steps. The Harps Christmas Eve thing is beautiful. I mean, Declan’s parents’ house is a mansion, no lie. But this time of year, Mrs. Harp goes all out in every way. The foyer has a six foot Christmas tree just inside the door that is decorated in all gold with soft white lights. The ornaments are mostly angels and doves, and there’s an angel as the topper, too. The garland that decorates all the banisters and lines the edges of the small tables is gold, too. Lastly, the lights match the white ones on the tree.

The main room of the party is where Dad heads, and that’s their entertaining room to left off the foyer, across from the stairs that go to the second floor. This room is typical Christmas to me. Twelve foot tree with a fat-bellied, mechanical Santa on top. He says different phrases on a timed recording. The lights for this one are multi-colored and blink to the beat of the song playing on the stereo. The ornaments are a mix-match of everything the Harps love, and all the ornaments Declan and Darcy have made over the years.

The tree wasn’t finished this morning but now that it is, I want to get a good look. Letting go of Declan’s hand so he can go mingle, I head over and smile to myself as I find the ornaments with Declan’s name on them. Mrs. Harp kept all of them, even the one they bought when Declan and Darcy were born.

I stop, my emotions spiking as my eyes find a medium-sized ornament in the shape of a glittering gold heart with my name elegantly written in Declan’s best handwriting. I probably shouldn’t, but I unhook it from the little branch and stare at it for a few minutes. Turning it over, I’m confused at the two words etched into the back.

Turn Around

I do just that to find Declan and ask him what it means, and my heart stops. The entire room, and I mean - the entire room - is quiet and staring at me . . . And Declan is on one knee. The tears fill my eyes and spill over before he even smiles. But when he does, it’s the best smile I think he’s ever given me.

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