Page 156 of A Naked Beauty

Jordyn puts a hand on my elbow and steers me into the change room. There, Lexie enters the combination on her locker and retrieves her phone, which isn’t permitted in the studios. Moments later her face pales.

Oh God… “What is it?”

“Let’s talk over here.”

Suddenly cold, I pull my yoga jacket over my tank top as Lexie leads us away from the lockers. She glances around to ensure we’re alone in the nook where the week’s class schedule and notices are posted.

“A video has gone viral.”

“What kind of video?”

“It insinuates that Mick is having an…an affair.”

My stomach roils. I think I’m going to be sick. But I need to face whatever scandal is brewing. “Show me.”

She hesitates out of sympathy, then hands me her phone.

Feeling shaky, I take it and lower onto the bench. Jordyn sits beside me, silently offering her support.

Staring at the screen, my chest tightens like a vise, pushing my breaths out in short, quick bursts.Newlywed, Micah Peters proves old habits die hard.Below the taunting caption plays a clip that is a lash to the heart. It’s date stamped, four days ago. I want to take the image away, escape it, if only I could. But my stare latches on to Mick. He’s in the hallway outside his penthouse. Leaning against the door. His eyes are closed. His neck arched. His mouth partially opened. A woman with slender curves is pictured from behind. She’s pressed against him, wearing a short robe that shows off toned legs that stretch for miles. Her arms are lowered and in motion. Her hands aren’t visible, but the look on my husband’s face offers more than a hint as to where they are.

“Is that woman who I think it is?” Jordyn seethes. “The condo neighbor?”

I nod, swallowing the sob that claws up my throat. Witnessing Mick with Lisa is like a sharp, jagged twist of déjà vu.

The old tapes that I’ve worked hard to silence, start up on replay. It’s as if someone had tapped into my psyche and used just the right image to set off all my triggers. In that inescapable moment, I’m the fat girl that catches her boyfriend on the deck with his hands on the slim hips of Tamara Scott. I’m the fat girl that gets discarded. The fat girl that nobody wants.

Hot tears spring to my eyes. They blur the video on the screen. Yet I still feel its searing effects. Burning in my chest, my stomach, everywhere.Jordyn wraps me in a tight embrace. Lexie takes the phone and stands guard, stroking her hand over my hair.

Commotion from outside the locker room jolts me. I straighten away from Jordyn hearing two loud voices: one shrill, the other deep and unrelenting.

Mick.

My friends exchange startled glances. Already on my feet, I swat at my wet cheeks and rush forward past several wide-eyed women in various stages of undress, getting to the change room door.

“You can’t go in there!” a woman yells.

“Try to stop me.”

I yank the door open and run smack into Mick. He grabs my shoulders, instinctively to steady me. But he doesn’t let go. Instead his grip intensifies.

Just seeing him splinters a sob free. Guilt and fury slice across his face. He knows I know.

“Dee—”

“Don’t…” I say, my heart hurting for us. This isn’t the time or place. But pushed past reason, my caution is no barrier.

“I realize how it looks…” his words race, heedless of our audience. “But I swear to you that video wasn’t from days ago or how it seems. I haven’t been with any other woman or wanted to be, since you. I would never—”

“Ssh…” I try to calm him. “I trust you, Mick.”

“—do that to us—what?”

“I said, I trust you. Of course, I do.”

He exhales a hard, audible breath. To Mick, my faith in him is as precious as my love. He doesn’t have to explain the video to me. Trusting him, the way I do, there is no doubt in my mind about my husband’s fidelity. “I know you, Mick. That’s all I need to know.”

Making a savage sound, he cups my face and seals his mouth over mine. I’m dimly aware of the gasps and whispers as he kisses me with soul-wrenching passion. My hands spear into his hair and his body presses against me, straining to be as close as one. I couldn’t care less about the spectacle we’re making or what anyone else thinks. Mick is conveying in more than words that he belongs to me, only.

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