Page 3 of Eat Slay Love

But where Ava was all angles and sleek lines, I was curves—full, unapologetic,holy hell, that’s a lot of CURVES.

I was working on loving those curves, though.

Had even started therapy about that and more.

Either way, my big bust was a lot, even on a good day, and my hips?

Well, let’s just say that finding jeans that fit properly was a workout in itself.

My ex used to love those curves—at least until he didn’t. And for the past ten years, since the divorce, I’d been wondering if anyone else ever would love my curves again.

But the thing was. . .I was also getting to a place where maybe. . .finding love didn’t matter so much anymore.

Ava’s melodic chuckle rose in the air, tying around Marco like a velvet ribbon. As usual, the director was completely enthralled, gesturing animatedly, clearly enjoying her attention.

She had him—and, honestly, every other man on set—wrapped around her perfectly manicured finger.

But how could I blame her?

In an industry like this, a woman either learned to use the tools she had, or got chewed up and spat out.

And Ava?

She wasn’t just surviving.

She was thriving.

Swallowing, I adjusted my blazer, shielding my tummy as it pushed against my dress’s fabric.

You are worthy. You are deserving.

My therapist—bless her determined soul—had given me that mantra to say to myself anytime insecurity snaked up into my heart.

She’d also given me homework for Valentine’s Day this year.

“Take yourself out,” Her tone left no room for debate. “Love yourself the way you want to be loved, Rae. That’s where it starts.”

I hadn’t argued, though I’d rolled my eyes at her suggestion of dressing up and taking myself out on a romantic fancy trip.

I checked my watch.

Soon.

I barely had time to refocus before Liam Grayson strolled in, wearing only a robe loosely tied around his waist.

My first thought—same as always—was that it truly wasn’t fair for one man to look like that.

Sculpted like a god, Liam was the kind of man who didn’t just turn heads; he left entire rooms gaping. Broad shoulders, chiseled jawline, deep-set hazel eyes that looked like they held secrets—everything about him screamedleading man.

But what set him apart—what made him stand out in an industry overrun by self-obsessed, narcissistic pretty boys—was his personality.

He wassweet.

Genuine, even.

He was the only person besides my assistant who asked me how my day was and actually waited for the answer.

At thirty-eight, Liam was still very much in his prime.

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