That motherfucking fuckface. What a little bitch. He went to my mother of all people, who he knows I have a rocky relationship with, in order to use her to manipulate me into giving him another chance. Because for the first time ever, I said no to his games, so he went to my mother instead.
Dick.
“Mom, I didn’t like who I was when I was dating Brett, so that should be reason enough for me not to get back together with him, and I’d rather not explain all the sordid details.”
“Well, Stevie, you’re not getting any younger.”
Can she stop with that bullshit line? “Why the hell does age matter?”
Oh shit.
“Excuse me, young lady. Do not raise your voice at me. And age matters because of children and marriage and all the other things I would have hoped you’d accomplish by now.”
I can’t stop now, and I don’t care.
“Are you kidding me?” My voice is shaky and raised, causing Zanders to pop his head around the corner, checking on me. “Maybe I don’t want kids. Maybe I don’t want to get married. Maybe I don’t want to do any of the things you’ve expected of me.”
“Well, that’s clear. You certainly haven’t done a single thing I expected of you.”
“You’re right, Mom. I’m such a disappointment, aren’t I? Because I’d rather volunteer at a dog shelter than stay home and play Stepford wife. Or because I’d rather shop at a thrift store than wear whatever shit you and all your pretentious friends wear. Or maybe I’m a disappointment because I don’t want to marry the guy who used me for three years while he was bored. I’m sorry I don’t want to be his option anymore, Mom, but I’m done with both of you making me feel like I’m not enough. I’m really done with anyone who makes me feel that way.”
“Stevie, I—”
My mother can’t continue because Zanders quickly walks behind the computer and closes the laptop on her.
“What are you doing?!” I’m still fired up, the energy flowing through my bones. I want to keep going. I want to say everything that’s ever been on my mind. I have no idea where this is coming from, but now I can’t stop.
“I’m stopping her.” Zanders’ voice is calm and centered. “You said what you needed to say, and from what I could tell, anything she had in rebuttal, I wouldn’t want to hear. Until she learns how to speak to you, she’s not going to. At least, not in my house.”
I take a few deep breaths, calming myself. Or at least trying to.
“Are you okay?” he softly asks.
“She’s such a bitch.”
A laugh heaves from his chest. “Yeah, she is. But are you okay?”
I exhale a long deep breath. “Yeah, actually, I am. That felt good.”
“Hell yeah, it did. That’s my girl.”
I would like to say I don’t know where this newfound confidence came from, but that would be a lie. It’s thanks to a 6'5" hockey player covered in tattoos and gold jewelry who doesn’t let me forget my worth.
“I just want her to accept me for who I am, and the fact that her approval, or lack thereof, bothers me so much is infuriating.”
“Not to get all preachy on you, Vee, but the right people, the ones who deserve to be in your life, they’re going to accept you for exactly who you are. That’s something I’ve quickly learned lately.”
My head tilts to the side, my expression softening and my previous anger dissipating. “I accept you for who you are.”
He scrunches his nose before taking the seat next to me and urging me from my chair, guiding me to sit across his lap. “I know you do.” That comes with a quick kiss. “And I accept you, but more importantly than all of that, at some point, you’re going to need to accept yourself.”
Ugh, this man. “Okay, Mr. Almost a Decade of Therapy.” I hide away in his neck, my voice muffled against his skin. “I do accept myself.”
He pulls away, forcing me to look him in his hazel eyes. “Do you?”
Nodding, I quietly add, “I do actually, yeah. I’ve started to accept that my body is different than the girls I grew up with, and that’s okay. And I’ve embraced my curly hair compared to what I thought I once wanted. I’ve just spent so much time with people who made me feel like I wasn’t good enough or I didn’t look the way they wanted me to that I didn’t think I was allowed to like it. But I’m starting to.”
The softest, most proud grin spreads across Zanders’ lips as he looks at me.