Page 17 of Under Pressure

Ruthie isn’t blind, but when it comes to me, she very well might have developed some sort of vision impairment.

I’ve neverfadeda day in my life. My body has always been plump and round, though it did even out a tad once I sproutedup a few inches in high school. It was a much-needed confidence booster back then.

Still, there is a heaviness to my breasts that makes them sag, no matter what type of bra I torture myself with, and my stomach hangs over the waistband of any pants that don’t come with a high waist. My calves are too big for most boots, so I opt for sneakers and sandals instead. Most of the time, I don’t pay any of this any mind.

I dress how I want to dress, and I don’t spend hours standing in front of a mirror wishing I looked different. My body is the only one I have, and I’ve grown to love every curve and roll. That doesn’t mean there weren’t a handful of habits that I built back in school that I haven’t broken yet.

Plucking a shirt from my middle when I sit in a crowded room to make sure it isn’t sticking to my belly is still something I struggle with today. I’m only human, after all.

Moral of the story is that I’m nowhere close to fading away.

I will, however, admit to not putting enough focus into eating consistently. My failure to eat when I should doesn’t have anything to do with my body, though. It’s this damn job that keeps me too busy to do much of anything besides snagging a muffin from the back or ordering something terrible after a long day.

Dating, of all things, isn’t in the realm of possibility right now. Ruthie hasn’t quite grasped that yet.

“I’m going to stop you right there, Ruthie,” I start, rubbing my apron between two fingers. “I don’t want to date your grandson. No offense to him. I know that’s what you’re hinting at here.”

“You haven’t even seen a picture of him. Come with me. I’ll show you right now.”

Without waiting for an answer, the stubborn old woman blows right past me on her way to the back office. I scowl at her back and drop my head back, staring at the ceiling. There are no water stains, at least.

What a pathetic silver lining.

“I don’t care what he looks like. I amnotinterested in finding a boyfriend.”

She waves a hand over her shoulder at me and then disappears into the office. Frustration bleeds through my veins, making my skin throb with discomfort as I reluctantly follow her. Both Callie and Eli are out front, but if I had to guess, they’re both too busy to come rescue me.

Following her, I step into the office. She makes a disgruntled noise when I run into her back and quickly stumble to the side, groaning.

“You say that now. When was the last time you went on a date?” she asks.

“That’s personal, don’t you think?”

With a chuff, she digs into her black designer purse and pulls her phone free of the side pocket. The way she squints at the screen and pulls it nearly to the tip of her nose is almost comical, but I keep my laugh to myself. With a bit of struggle, she finds what she’s looking for and shoves the phone toward me.

I barely grab it before it falls to the floor and quirk a brow at the photo sitting open. The screen is so bright I have to blink a few times to get used to it.

The man looking into the camera is generically handsome, I’ll give him that. His smile is honest and kind, and while it takes up a large amount of his face, it’s not exactly unappealing. He has a smooth jaw and soft brown eyes that might even have some green in them, though it’s too hard to make out that detail from a photo.

It’s not until I make out the green and grey jersey he’s wearing and the crowded seats around him that I lock the phone and offer it back to Ruthie.

“I’m not interested.”

She sputters, “What? Are you—did you not see the photo?”

“Look, Ruthie, I love you, but I’ve got too much to do still to be focusing on settling down with someone.”

“No, that makes this the perfect time for it! Why must you do everything alone? This is an opportunity to lean on someone else for help.”

“You put a lot of faith in your grandson. And men in general.”

She weighs that in her mind, and I see the moment she finds something agreeable in the words. The frown that purses her peach-painted lips gives her away easily. Still, she doesn’t let it go. That’s one thing that can frustrate me to no end with Ruthie. Once she sets her mind to something, she doesn’t back down. It’s impossible for her to see it as anything but a failing on her part.

Defeat tickles the back of my mind. The idea of making the time in my hectic schedule to go out and meet this guy when I know I’m not going to be good company feels like a punishment. I don’t remember the last time I was out with a man.

My sex life is non-existent, and I’m pretty sure if I didn’t use my vibrator every few nights, my vagina would have dried up and fallen off by now. Even just the idea of kissing someone feels like a faraway dream.

Fuck, how long has it been since I’ve even felt the ghost of a touch from a man that wasn’t from Eli?