Page 43 of Eat Slay Love

My eyes widened. "Oh my God. How did that Ayahuasca trip work out?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "It was thrilling and terrifying. I think. . .I might have had a conversation with God."

I leaned in, intrigued. "And what did God say?"

Fabien exhaled slowly, like he was reliving the moment. "God told me that love isn’t something we chase. It’s something webecome. That when we learn to love ourselves without condition, when we are whole in our solitude, then love will walk toward us naturally. And it won’t feel like we’re grasping at something just out of reach. It will feel. . .like breathing."

A shiver ran down my spine.

I wasn’t sure if it was his words or the way he looked at me as he said them.

I took another sip of my wine, letting the rich velvet of it coat my tongue, buying myself a few extra seconds before I spoke. “I, uh. . .I’malsodivorced.”

Fabien’s expression remained unreadable, but his focus on me sharpened. His green eyes—already deep with interest—darkened as if urging me to continue.

Oh God. Do I tell him everything?

Chapter seven

Stripped of Pretense

Rae

He wanted to know about my past, and I was nervous.

Fuck.

I hesitated, my fingers tightening around the stem of my glass.

How muchshouldI say?

How muchcouldI say without looking like a damn fool?

Because the truth was—I hadn’t always been smart when it came to love. Back then, I had ignored the warning signs, swallowed the hurt, and let myself shrink just to keep the peace.

And now, sitting across from a man like Fabien—who exuded power, self-awareness, and the kind of confidence that came from real growth—I didn’t want to look weak.

I didn’t want him to see me as a woman who had once let someone chip away at her piece by piece.

I wanted him to see me as strong.

But if I wasn’t honest, then wasn’t I just playing a role, the same way I had back then?

I exhaled slowly, bracing myself.

Fuck it. If he was bold enough to give me his truth, I could do the same.

I exhaled softly. “I divorced ten years ago.”

A flicker of something—understanding, maybe—crossed his face, but he stayed silent, letting me set the pace of my own story.

“I married too soon without truly knowing him,” I tapped the side of my glass. “And at the time, I thought I had everything I wassupposedto want. A husband. Stability. A life that made sense on paper.”

I let out a small, humorless chuckle. “And I was smaller back then. Not thin, exactly—I’veneverbeen thin. I was always just a little chubby, even as a kid. But when I got married, I was probably the smallest I’ve ever been.”

Although Fabien did not speak, I could feel the intensity of his focus on me.

I took another breath. “Then, after about a year, I started gaining a little weight. Not a lot—ten pounds, maybe. But the way my ex saw it, I might as well have gained a hundred. He started calling me, his sweet little. . .Butter Ball.”

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