Page 2 of The C Agreement

She turned from me to Cade. “And you, sir?”

“I’ll have a beer. And a paddle to smack this ass in my lap.”

Immediately, I flew back in my seat and elbowed him as I pushed my long blonde hair over my shoulder. “Jerk.”

I had been so fixated on ending any conversation that had to do with why Brett and I had broken up that I didn’t pay attention to what I was doing.

He laughed and squeezed my knee. “Relax, Storm. It’s a nice butt.”

Around middle school, Beau and Cade had given me the nickname Rayne Storm when I was mad. Over the years, it had shrunk from Rayne Storm to Storm, and the two men still liked to use it when I got heated, which thankfully didn’t happen as often as it had when I was a kid.

I pushed his hand away. “Ha-ha. You’re so funny,” I said sarcastically.

“I’m not—”

“Hey,” my brother said from across the table and pointed a finger at Cade. “No hitting on my sister.”

I rolled my eyes. There were so many reasons that would never happen. My brother didn’t have anything to worry about.

“Is there anything else I can get the table?” our server asked. “Are you ready to order?”

“I’m ready,” Em said and looked at Cade and me. “Are you two?”

This particular restaurant was one of our favorites, and all four of us had the menu memorized.

“I know what I want,” Cade said.

I nodded. “Me too.”

The server went around the table, taking our orders.

After she left, Em said, “I’m glad to see you’re eating normally again.”

I frowned, confused, until I realized what she was referring to. “Oh, yeah, I had a moment of weakness, but that was a while ago.”

“I know. But since it seems like you and Brett broke up, I can say, I was worried for a second there.”

Over the past couple of years, I had worked really hard to love my body the way it was. I read tons of books on weight and health, subscribed to podcasts discussing the same things, and even read some medical journal articles.

I had learned a lot about how weight and health did not equate to the same thing, but it was hard when we lived in such a skinny-focused world. And there were so many people who looked at me and assumed I was lazy and overweight when, in reality, I worked out regularly, ate healthy during most meals, and always had good lab result numbers when I went to the doctor.

But even after all that, it was hard to get over all the fatphobia I’d learned, growing up, and sometimes, I fell back into old habits.

Like when I’d thought maybe my boyfriend was no longer interested in me because I had put on a few pounds. I was mad at myself for even thinking I wasn’t worth sleeping with because of my size, especially because if Brett had really thought that, it would have been time for him to go, not time for me to try another diet that wouldn’t work.

Turned out, that hadn’t been the problem at all. And I still couldn’t figure out if the real reason he had slowly withdrawn from our sex life was better or worse. Probably worse.

“What’s this now about you not eating?” Cade said, his brow furrowed.

Em knew how much work I’d done on myself, and my brother knew some of it, but Cade didn’t really know much. It wasn’t something gorgeous, muscular men who simply looked at a treadmill and lost weight would ever understand even if I knew he’d be supportive.

“Nothing.” I wiggled the chip in my hand that I had already picked up. “I’m eating.”

“Good, because you don’t need to starve yourself for some asshole.” His voice was firm.

I put my hand on his arm. “I’m not starving myself for anyone.” Not even myself. I looked at my sister-in-law. “Brett and I are done, and even if he wanted to get back together, I wouldn’t. So, please, don’t worry about me.”

Just worry about my sex life instead.

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