Page 80 of The Fake Out

My mom sighs. “I need to get back into running.” Her hands come to her waist and she widens her eyes at me. “It’s hard to keep the weight off in the winter.”

My shoulders tense, and that old, familiar pain of hearing my mom insult herself rises. This weight she’s apparently gained isn’t even visible, but I know from growing up in her home that she weighs herself every morning and keeps a logbook.

“So don’t keep it off,” I say lightly, playing with my water glass. “Why force yourself to fit someone else’s idea of what you should look like?”

Like always, my words ping off her hard shell. She’s had a lifetime of our culture’s views on how women should look to fortify her beliefs. She waves me off.

“As soon as we get home to Silver Falls, I’m doing a cleanse.”

My teeth grit. I can feel Rory’s eyes on my face but I stare at the table. I’m a swirling storm of emotions—frustration that my mom bullies herself, that she can’t be enough for herself, and embarrassment that Rory is seeing this glimpse into my personal life. All these things I’m trying to keep from him to no avail.

“Lemon, water, honey, and a pinch of cayenne,” she continues. “Three days of that and the weight melts right off.”

My exhale is shaky. I look to Pippa but she’s in conversation with Donna.

“That’s not healthy, Mom,” I tell her. “You need protein and vegetables and carbs. Real food.”

“The cavemen used to go days without eating,” she scoffs. “It’s good for us. It resets my metabolism.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your metabolism,” I insist, heart pounding. “And then once you start eating real food again, you’ll just gain the four pounds back.”

My voice is coming out sharp, and I’m aware that Rory is sitting beside me, watching this.

The server appears at our table again. “Are we interested in the dessert menu?”

“No,” my mom says.

“Yes,” I bite out at the same time, staring at my mom. “They have tiramisu.”

“No.” Her hands fly up, like she couldn’t possibly eat a single bite of dessert.

In my mind, I order the tiramisu. I orderallthe tiramisu in the entire restaurant, and when it arrives, I make her eat it and enjoy it. And then she saysyou’re right, Hazel. I love my body as it is, and I deserve to eat the things that make me happy!

“Fine,” I say instead. “We should wrap up. I have to be at work early tomorrow.”

Shame forms in my throat because Rory saw all of that. He saw me lose my cool. He sees that my passion is helping people feel good in their bodies but I still can’t get through to my own mom.

How am I going to have my own studio if I can’t help the person I love more than anyone?

Rory excuses himself from the table and when the server returns, I ask her for the bill.

She smiles at us. “It’s been taken care of.”

Rory slips past her, taking his seat, and some of the anxiety from this dinner eases in my chest at his kindness.

“Rory.” My eyebrows slide up.

He gives me a cheeky grin. “Hazel.”

“You didn’t need to get dinner.”

“I wanted to.” To my parents, he smiles. “Next time you’re in town, I’d love for you to come to a game.”

“Absolutely.” Jamie invites my dad all the time, but my dad looks like Rory just made his whole year. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and gestures at our table. “Let’s get a photo of all of us.”

“I’ll take it,” my mom says quickly.

I shake my head. “We can get the server to take it.”

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