“You know Owen?” His eyes meet mine, the question in his gaze clear, but I shake my head slightly, not wanting Bails to get the wrong idea. Given the tension I can feel from where she’s standing, the blowup is coming quicker than I want. “He never told me that, he just said he was helping the beautiful girl next door.” I feel the rift immediately and brace myself.
Bailey makes an incredulous sound in the back of her throat as I stare at Matt, hoping he understands that I need him to get Morgan as far away from Bailey as possible. When he nods slightly, taking Morgan’s hand and leading her across the room, I sigh in relief.
“You know her?” Bailey asks, venom dripping from her tone as my eyes reluctantly leave Morgan and focus on the woman in front of me.
“We grew up together. Went to the same high school.” Relegating Morgan to just an old acquaintance seems wrong, especially when our relationship means so much on so many levels.
“You know, if you were really her friend, you’d get her on that treadmill and on a meal plan. Because, honey, she’s going to be bad for business.” The giggle that escapes her puts a sour taste in my mouth, and it grows the longer I stare at Bailey, wondering who this woman is and why I didn’t see it before. Every word out of her mouth disgusts me, and yet my first instinct is to check on Morgan, make sure she didn’t hear the vile words that just came out of Bailey’s mouth. When I glance over and see that she’s still engrossed in a conversation with Matt, I take a deep breath. Thank God.
“Bails, I think it’s time you go. I’ve got a client coming in.” Bailey eyes me, then her gaze drifts over to Morgan, who is now looking right at us. The sinking feeling permeates the pit of my stomach, and before I have a chance to walk away, Bailey grabs the back of my neck and seals her lips to mine. I try and pull away as gracefully as I can, but it’s no use. The moment she moans into my mouth, I know exactly what she’s doing, and the anger builds the longer her arms are around my neck. Just as I’m about to pull her off me, Bailey moves back, smiling up at me as she leans in and kisses the tip of my nose lightly as if we’re in a fucking sitcom.
“You know you should ask her to join.” She points directly at Morgan. “Big girls usually travel in packs. It’d be great for business.” I’m about to say something when she kisses my cheek and saunters out of the gym as if she didn’t just say something incredibly demeaning and utterly disgusting.
The silence is deafening as the front door closes. When I turn to Morgan, the sadness that permeates those gorgeous eyes of hers rips me in half. When I open my mouth to try and say something—anything—to erase what just happened, she stops me.
“I’ll see you later,” she says quietly as she turns to Matt. “It was nice to meet you, Matt.” He gives her a small smile as we both watch her walk out the door.
Chapter 6
Morgan
“You seem tense,” Kennedy states as I make my way into her office and flop down on her couch. I take the pillow that sits beside me and fold it over my stomach, hugging it close.
“You know, for a therapist, you’re very observant.” My tone drips with sarcasm as the events of the last few days wash over me, and I fight tooth and nail to stop the tears that have been burning behind my eyelids for the past twenty-four hours. Kennedy eyes me as I sit , stewing in my stubbornness. And I know from experience that she won’t say anything until I do. So, we remain silent for what feels like an hour but can only be five minutes before I crack. “Yes, I’m tense. It’s been a rough week.”
“What happened?” Kennedy leans back in her chair, her notepad balancing on her knees as she waits for me to spill my guts. I’ve been in therapy for years, longer than I’ve had a full-time job. And, honestly, it’s a savior. But Kennedy and I have only known each other for as long as I’ve been in Miami, so our relationship isn’t what I need it to be right now. There’s nothing I can do about that, however.
“I ran into someone from my past.” I’m knowingly being vague, and from the arched brow Kennedy angles my way, I know she sees right through me. “You want me to say their name.” It’s not a question, only because I know in my gut that’s what her silence means. After another minute of her stare down, I cave. “Fine. I ran into Owen.”
“And who is Owen to you?” she asks, writing some notes on her pad of paper, her eyes never leaving mine.
“He was my high school best friend.”
“Was?” Her question catches me off guard. I don’t know why, because using the past tense when referring to Owen isn’t anything new. He hasn’t been a part of my life for a very long time. But for some reason, right now, the realization that he isn’t my best friend anymore hits me harder than I imagined. “Did something happen between the two of you for you not to speak for over ten years?”
Flashes of prom come flying back, the amazing dress I picked out, the idea of Owen and me going together, and me finally telling him how I felt. Then I remember everything crashing down when he didn’t show up and ignored me until all I felt was alone and heartbroken.
When I tell Kennedy about that night, she says nothing, just writes something on the pad in front of her. When her eyes meet mine again, I don’t see the pity I usually see when I tell that story, and that throws me.
“So, what happened after that?” she asks, and I sit there dumbfounded. She just bypassed one of the hardest moments of my life as if it were a feather falling from the sky. Just waved it away without a care in the world. That moment defined my next five years, creating a systematic response to anyone who tried to get close. The only exception to that rule was Charly, and that’s only because she weaseled her way in and didn’t give me the chance to say no. And I’m thankful for her every day.
“What happened was, I moved away to go to school and never spoke to him again.”
“Until yesterday,” she states matter-of-factly. I hug the pillow tighter as I nod my head, not really having the ability to speak. “So, what did seeing him do to you?” I want to be mad at her for making me rehash this, but that’s why I came here, after all. I know if I don’t talk about it, everything will get bottled up, and that low-hanging cloud will start to follow me wherever I go.
“At first, I was surprised. Then I was pissed, then when we started talking I…” I trail off, not knowing if I want to admit the growing feelings that still stir inside me.
“You started to feel something for him again,” she answers for me as I nod silently, feeling the tears start to fall as the weight of what those feelings mean for the fragile walls I’ve tried to build since I left Aaron settles. Kennedy places her notepad on the floor beside her as she leans forward, her hands folded neatly in her lap. “Are those tears because you’re scared of Owen or something else?”
It’s a leading question, and I almost laugh at how good she is at making me spill my guts. She’s worth every penny I pay her.
“Owen doesn’t scare me. I think I’m just cautious of him.” Kennedy stares, giving me a look that says she knows there’s more to it than that. “Well, you know my weight has always been an underlying issue for me. And ever since I left Aaron, I’ve been trying to get that under control. Attempting to love myself for the woman I am in this body, instead of waiting to love myself in the body that everyone else will love.” She gives me a small smile and nods her head for me to continue. “I guess I’m just worried that he sees me the same way Aaron did.”
“And what way is that?” Ugh. She’s going to make me say it.
“Fat. I’m worried he sees me as the fat girl I still see in the mirror every morning. And since he’s so...fit, I’m worried he’ll look at me like a pet project.” Kennedy picks up her notepad once more and sits back in the chair, her legs crossing in front of her.
“Morgan, you need to understand that you can’t place your weight issues on others. Aaron might have used it against you, but you can’t let one person’s opinion cloud your judgement of others. That is exactly what others have done to you.”