Page 98 of Now to Forever

“Maybe,” he says, slight smile on his lips. “A liar in love sees what he wants, I guess.”

My head jerks back. Between the sincere look in his eyes and what he’s just said, a five-alarm siren blares through me, and my throat pinches so tightly I wonder if I’ll black out.

He loves me.

I peck one quick kiss on his lips and pull out of his arms, swinging my legs out of bed and working to find my clothes strewn about the floor and tangled in the sheets.

“What are you doing?” he asks, brow furrowed.

“Um.” I focus on sliding my panties up my legs, ignoring the fact my thighs are still slick with him. “I, uh, have to get going.”

“Going?” He sits up fully, watching me pull my dress overhead. “Why?”

Because you just said that and I’m freaking out.

“Molly, for one,” I say, tugging a boot on.

“The dog that essentially takes care of herself?” he asks, not hiding his irritation.

“The one and only.” I force a smile, shoving my foot into my other boot and sitting on the edge of the bed next to him. “But, I liked this. Tonight. This. You. A lot, really. Even better than without touching.”

When I grin, he doesn’t.

“You’re leaving and aren’t coming back?”

“Uh.” I look away from him. “Not tonight, no. Tomorrow I have an LL thing. But after?”

He nods slightly, as if still processing, and looks away from me. When he says, “Maybe,” I know I’ve hurt him, and I hate myself. But I can’t change that here, not now. Not with the way he’s looking at me and making me feel.

I lean in and kiss him lightly. He doesn’t move to make it last or follow me out when I stand. I’m in the doorway when he says, “Give me something real right now.”

I take in how beautiful he is in his bed and wish so badly I was lying naked next to him. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

Before he can say anything or try to convince me otherwise, I go, stopping only in the living room to thumb through one of the books and snap a picture.

Alone in a lumpy bed on the floor, I spend the entire night wishing I knew how to stay.

Thirty-Four

“Hi.I’mBlair,andI’m addicted to exercise.” Blair laughs softly, looking around the room like she’d rather be doing anything but. She’s beautiful—in perfect shape and wearing jeans and a sweater that complement her athletic physique. “And I feel stupid talking about it. Like, who can’t stop running?” She makes a face, almost making fun of herself. A few people chuckle. “Anyway, I’ve sat here, month after month and just thought, what the heck, Blair, why not share. So, here we are.

“I don’t have a big success story. I’m notclean. Every day I struggle to stop running. To get off the Peloton. To not do another set with the weights. But I have been stopping more. Most of the time. Just one day at a time, that’s what’s worked for me. I just say, Blair, you run two miles today, and then maybe tomorrow you can run three. Or whatever it is.

“I wasn’t healthy as a kid, and my parents weren’t healthy. I got made fun of a lot for being fat . . . In my twenties, that changed. Igot healthy and lost the weight. And I married a man that’s—” A breath whooshes out of her and her eyes go glassy, voice cracking with her next words. “He’s dang perfect. And I don’t just mean handsome, I mean, the man just worships me. And we had babies. Three. Perfect babies just like him. And gosh, the number they did on my body.” She shakes her head with a slight laugh and wipes under her eyes.

“I started working out to get the baby weight off, and I just forgot to stop, I guess. And now, I think, I don’t want him to see me in case I don’t live up to his standards. I’ve lost the weight but still have the stretch marks. Look good in jeans but not a bathing suit. All the stories we tell ourselves. And I think of my parents—so stinking unhealthy—and it just makes me go and go and go. Like, what if one day, he looks at me and sees the fat girl and her parents then decides to get the heck out of town. Like he got conned.”

She sniffs and toys with the hem of her sweater. “So that’s my sob story.” She laughs, but it’s empty. “One day at a time.”

Mel gives her a sincere smile.

“What do you do when your husband looks at you?” I ask, not missing the shocked look on Mel’s face at my gentle tone. “Or compliments you?” Everyone turns toward me, blinking. “Or when that voice you mentioned gets too loud?”

“I used to deflect. Convince myself he’s lying. Just being nice. Heck, I’d try to convince him he didn’t know what he was looking at by pointing out all my flaws. Like I was trying to scare him off before he figured it all out on his own.” Even I can’t ignore how familiar this sounds. “I’d hide myself all the time. But onenight we were watching that movieShrek—the one about the ogre. My kids were laughing about how Fiona looked—that’s the lady ogre—and he said,‘I’d love your mother if she was an ogre. I’d love her without hair and without legs.And if she had hairy warts, I’d kiss them.’ And I looked at him, and he meant it. And that night I let him see me naked—” She looks at Mel. “Sorry if that’s too much information.” Mel smiles and mouths,it’s fine. “Anyway, I just let him look at me. And it was hard that first time—it had been a while. And I cried like a baby. But then I just kept letting him. Even when it was hard. Even when I’m scared he’s going to see something he doesn’t like and take off like a jackrabbit. And that voice?” She shrugs. “I’ve just learned I can’t control it. We all know a loudmouth, right?” Mel looks at me with raised eyebrows. “But, I keep telling myself, just because it’s loud, don’t mean it’s right.” She laughs like she doesn’t believe it, but a smile also lingers like she wants to.

“Thank you, Blair,” Mel says from the podium. “Who wants to go next?”

“That was very un-rabid of you today,” Mel says with a drag of her cigarette. “You sick?”

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