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She could make it herself.
It was empowering, really. And it was slowly helping change her perspective on what being a happy and healthy curvy woman could mean. She was done feeling guilt or shame for how she looked. Or at least she was trying to get there.
“Before I forget,” she said as Reynolds picked up the other cookies and took a bite. “Mrs. Dolowitz called first thing this morning to tell me that she appreciated our help but, by some miracle, her precious Oscar found his way home all on his own. She offered to pay us something for our efforts, but I’m sure you would agree when I told her no payment was necessary.”
“You got that right. And the posters?”
“She’s already removed them all.”
“Good, because it would have sucked for you to have to do that this evening.”
Her phone dinged and she looked down. No way.
She looked up in surprise. “Tracie Jackson just liked my relationship status.”
“What’d I tell you? You know, it might make things more believable if we shared a photo together of the two of us. You game for a selfie?”
A sense of dread filled her. She’d avoided posting anything on Facebook since the breakup with Spencer. Especially any photos of herself since she’d gone from a size two to her pleasantly curvy self.
It was one thing to be at peace with where she was with her weight—or trying to get there—and another thing to give ammunition to all the people dying for something juicy to talk about.
Frankly, it terrified and nauseated her.
“What is it?” he asked, sensing her emotional turmoil.
“Those people are used to seeing me…a certain way. Not like”—she motioned her hands to her body—“this. I’m not sure if I’m ready to hear their snide comments.”
He still appeared confused and she rolled her eyes.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You saw what I looked like before. You know that I’m not skinny like I used to be.”
“So? Why does that even matter? To tell you the truth, you look better now than before.”
Please. She had looked perfect before. Hungry but perfect. Now she was something far less than perfect.
She was okay with that. But she wasn’t delusional.
“Don’t look at me like I’m crazy, Waverley. Do you really think I would tell you something I didn’t believe?”
Okay, that rang true. Sure, she didn’t know Reynolds very well yet, but he did seem fairly honest.
Well, you know. Other than the fact he made his living spying on people.
Reynolds continued. “And if those idiots think less of you because of how you look now, then to hell with them. They’re idiots. Let me ask you something. Are you happier now than back then?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Yes. One-hundred-percent happier.”
Her life was finally her own and she’d never felt freer.
“Then let’s get this selfie taken. Where do you want to do it?”
She looked around. “Probably by the window. It has the best lighting.”
He joined her by the window, and she stood awkwardly next to him, trying to figure out how she was going to smile convincingly at the cell phone he was holding ahead of them, ready to snap the photo.
“You’re going to have to get a little closer to me than that, Waverley. Here.”
He stepped closer and wrapped his other arm around her. She swore for a second that she was going to honest-to-goodness faint at the sensation of his body pressed against her side. Of having his very masculine scent surrounding her, getting into her brain, and forming almost a taste on her tongue. A delicious taste.
