“Come here.” I usher her to stand in front of the full-length mirror, completely naked. Staying behind her, I allow her body to take up the frame with my hands holding her upper arms.
“Zee.” She looks away from her reflection, a quiet whimper leaving her lips.
“Vee, look at yourself, please,” I urge as gently as possible.
Her sad eyes wander back to the mirror as a slight frown ghosts her lips.
“Tell me what you like.”
“Nothing.”
“Stevie…”
She takes a sharp breath before studying herself in the reflection. “I like my hair.”
Brushing her curls out of the way, I trail a line of kisses across her bare shoulder. “I love your hair. What else?”
Examining herself in the mirror, she finally blurts out, “I like my eyes.”
Crossing both arms around the front of her shoulders, I tell her, “I love your eyes.”
She stays silent, looking at herself in the mirror.
“What else?” I coax.
Glancing at herself up and down, she shakes her head to tell me nothing.
That breaks my heart, but I know it’s not the truth. Stevie is just having a bad day, but that’s okay because I have an endless list of what I love about her body.
“Okay.” I kiss the side of her head. “Then look in the mirror and tell me what you don’t like.”
Brows furrowed, she finds my gaze in the reflection, confusion covering her features.
“If you have such a short list of the things you like, then tell me what you don’t like.”
I watch as Stevie internally battles with herself, not wanting to say any of it out loud.
Her stare wanders the length of the mirror, and her tone is soft, her volume almost inaudible as she finally whispers, “I don’t like my thighs.”
My palms cover her bare legs as goosebumps decorate her light brown skin. “I love your thighs.” I squeeze them in my hands. “I especially like when they’re warming my cheeks as I’m going down on you.” That pulls a small laugh from my typically wild girl. “But my favorite is when you’re sitting in my lap, facing me, and your thighs straddle my legs. I like getting to see you.”
Stevie’s head cocks to the side, her brows pinching together.
“What else don’t you like?”
Blue-green eyes wander her reflection. “I don’t like my stomach. I wish it were flatter.”
“I love your stomach.” Both hands graze over it. “I love that it’s soft and that I have something to hold when we’re cuddling. Or fucking.”
She tries to hold back her slight smile. “I don’t like my boobs.”
“Stop.” I jolt back, slightly offended. “That can’t be true. Those are two of my favorite things.”
Finally, a small laugh escapes her. “I don’t like how they’re two different sizes.”
“Vee, that’s because you’re human. And I don’t pick favorites between them.”
Her gaze continues to work the length of the mirror. “I don’t like my stretch marks.”
I find the ones she’s staring at. “These?” I ask as my fingertips trace the jagged lines on her hips. “You don’t like that your body can adapt? Because I think that’s pretty fucking cool.”
“Well”—she looks down, admiring—“I like them a whole lot more when you’re touching them.”
Sharing a soft laugh, I hold her as we look at each other in the mirror.
“You don’t have to love your body every single day. That’s unrealistic to expect, but I’ll be here loving it for the days you can’t.”
“It’s just hard right now during playoffs, with all your teammates’ wives and girlfriends matching every game. They’re all perfect, and I look nothing like them.”
“What makes them perfect? Because of their clothing size? That doesn’t make someone perfect. And regardless of size, looking like everyone else is boring. You’re stunning, Vee, and what makes you different is what makes you stand out. In the best way possible.”
She offers me a slight smile through the mirror.
“Do you think I look like the guys I grew up playing hockey with in Indiana? Fuck no, I don’t. And now, in the league, my peers don’t look like me. But look at us together.” I nod towards our reflection. “You can’t look at us and say we don’t fit in. We go together perfectly.”
Her blue-green eyes gloss over in the reflection. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Zee.”