“Come on, Hartley.” His fingers come to my jaw as he tilts my face toward his. He’s looking at me with such intense affection I think my heart might burst. “Pretend you like me.”
I laugh quietly, and then he’s kissing me. It’s sweet and soft and careful, like I’m precious to him.
When I open my eyes, he smiles at me, and there’s a sweet twist in my chest that tells me I’m so, so fucked.
“Perfect,” Pippa says quietly, smiling at her phone.
That’s what I was afraid of.
CHAPTER 37
HAZEL
When the server starts clearing the table, I scan my mom’s plate. She barely ate anything. A rock forms in my throat, and my mind keeps snagging on that, even as the conversation moves on.
“Rory, what are you doing for Christmas?” Donna asks.
It’s early December, and holiday decorations are starting to pop up around the city.
My heart jumps. Rory and I haven’t talked about it, but Pippa, Jamie, and I are heading to Silver Falls for a couple days. Jamie needs to be back for the League Classic game on New Year’s Eve. So do I, since I promised Rory I’d go with him.
His eyes meet mine. “I’m not sure yet.”
He doesn’t speak to his mom, and I suspect gruff Rick Miller isn’t the kind of guy to dress up like Santa.
My mom gives me a look, lifting her eyebrows, eyes bright. Invite him, she’s saying.
Here? In front of everyone? My pulse quickens. He wouldn’t say no. He’d jump at the chance.
My heart leaps at the idea of Rory hanging out with the family, watching old movies and drinking apple cider while we put up decorations my parents bought before we were born.
I’ve never brought a guy home, though. It would be another first of mine that we cross off the list together. Rory coming home for Christmas would mean something. We’d make memories together, and it would be another tether to him, another difficult thing to let go of when it’s over.
“How are you liking being back in Vancouver?” my mom asks, and I’m grateful we’re moving on.
“I love it.” His hand slides to mine in my lap and gives me a squeeze. “Hazel and I went for a run in Stanley Park the other day.”
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 order all the tiramisu in the entire restaurant, and when it arrives, I make her eat it and enjoy it. And then she says you’re right, Hazel. I love my body as it is, and I deserve to eat the things that make me happy!