Page 38 of Mommy

Only once we’re inside, Derek reaches up and takes off his helmet, and then a black and grey balaclava. His blonde hair is a mess, the perfect tussle in the strands that fall onto his forehead. When his lips tilt into a half smile, I momentarily forget we are inside a gym. I forget about the polished counter in front of us and the beaming girl that waits behind it. I even forget about the buff guy brushing past me as I stay planted to the spot like a tree.

I ignore it all; Derek does not. He shoots the guy a warning look before turning to greet the girl at the counter.

I trail behind him, looking around at all the gym equipment—that I have no clue how to use. I get so distracted, that I almost run straight into Derek’s back when he comes to a sudden stop before me.

“The women’s locker rooms.” He gestures forward to a black painted door. Its edges are littered in pink heart stickers and in the middle there’s a large W shaped with the same stickers.

“Put all the gear in one of the standing lockers and lock it with this.” He hands me a small key. “I’ll wait for you up front.”

Pushing through the door, I find myself a locker and fill it as instructed. Only once all the clothes are inside, I realize that there are barely any left on my body.

I’m wearing nothing but skintight leggings and a sportsbra. Looking down my body, I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, gnawing on it as I inspect the naked skin and tiny rolls.

I’m not overweight. If anything, I’m under the recommended bodyweight for my size. But I still feel too much when I look at myself in the mirror.

My shoulders are boney and so are my hips, but there’s still loose skin rolling at the edges of my sports bra and around my waist.

Shit.

I was so busy thinking about seeing Derek in his gym clothes, I didn’t pay attention to what I would be wearing.

With a deep sigh, I hug my arms around myself in an attempt to hide my body, before I leave the locker room.

Chapter twenty two

Derek

Look, I’m a decent man.

I don’t stare at women no matter what they wear, but—the second Ivy comes out of the locker, I can hear my jaw hit the floor.

She has her arms wrapped around her torso, but the grey leggings hugging her thighs are enough to make me drool.

Fucking hell.

I let her walk up to me, watching shamelessly. If anyone was ever allowed to ogle her, it’s definitely me. How can someone’s hips sway this way when there is barely even any meat on them yet? And she isn’t even wearing heels, just plain white sneakers.

When she’s close enough, she gets up onto her tiptoes and I prepare myself for a kiss.

None comes and instead, she whispers.

“I feel naked.”

There’s a blush in her cheeks, rosey and absolutely edible. But there’s also discomfort, and I hate the insecure lilt in her voice.

There’s nothing she needs to feel insecure about. Every inch of her looks flawless to me. Even if I would prefer it, if she weighed a little more. She doesn’t need to be built like me, but she should be able to carry herself with less effort.

Right now, I can see that her body is working to keep her in motion. It’s in the exhaustion that weighs on her shoulders, like every step is a battle and she’s tired of fighting.

Ivory deserves to have a body that says she knows that she’s allowed to eat. Eat, whatever the fuck she wants. Every day of her life.

Building muscles is the first step to understanding that. It’s the easiest way of making her eat without guilt.

And I know now that there’s guilt. It’s not a missing routine like I thought in the beginning. Ivory has been starving herself because she feels guilty for needing food. So I’ve made it my mission to make sure she always has food available. Effortless, guiltfree.

She did well last night when she ate dinner—two servings instead of one. But I could tell by the way she started pushing the food around the plate with her spoon, that she’d refilled it mainly for my sake.

Do I think she enjoyed eating? Yes. I’m a good cook and I know she liked the food. But do I also think she felt guilty for eating so much? Definitely.