In the beginning, he loved to hear me sing, but the last time he caught me humming in public, he leaned in and said, “You know people can hear you, right?” then later whispered in my ear not to be a know-it-all when I joined in a cooking conversation with his sister.
I made sure to keep quiet the rest of the day. When we got back to his room, he wrapped me in his arms, kissed me gently and said, “If you were a little friendlier, people wouldn’t think you were so stuck up,” right before his hand traveled south of the border.
We have an awkward family dinner, two hugs and a kiss, and I’m supposed to dispense full access to my body? I’m not a vending machine, thank you very much.
I’ve done nothing but shrink around him.
Don’t sing all the time, it’s weird.
Don’t talk too much.
Don’t talk too little.
Don’t act like a know-it-all.
I blamed it all on the baby stress, but I’m the idiot who keeps plugging holes in the boat while he keeps drilling.
My thoughts are all over the place as I stand in his room. I wish I could curl up beside him and be reassured everything will be okay, but Nathan isn’t capable of that.
And let’s be honest—the person who makes everything okay isn’t him.
Our phones buzz when Jackson texts to ask if we want to order pizza.
Nathan is ridiculously picky and has a weird hang-up about only eating once a day.
You do you, pal.
When he saw a picture of my aunt, who’s a larger woman, he said, “I’ll divorce you if you ever get that big.” I thought he was just bad at jokes.
I try to stay healthy, but how could I possibly guarantee that I’ll be this size forever?
“Gross. Why would I eat greasy delivery pizza?” he scoffs.
“You like pizza from Simms. He’s just being considerate.”
“I never eat this early.”
“I don’t think your meal schedule is on his radar. Lighten up. He just offered.” My skin chills as soon as the words leave my mouth.
That was probably strike one, and I don’t know how many I get.
“This is why the United States is the most obese country…” he begins his monologue.
“What the heck is your problem? All he did was offer to include us. He probably forgot you don’t work tonight and thinks he needs to hurry before you leave.” That may have been strikes two and three.
I’m losing patience. I have nothing left.
“Iamworking tonight, thank you. I don’t have anyone taking care ofmy expenses,” he snaps. Where did THAT come from? I did get help, but I didn’t ask for it. And I didn’t tell him about it for this exact reason.
I can’t win.
The basement door opens, and Jackson yells down the stairs, “Hey, I have ten minutes to put in this order before my next meeting. Do you want anything or not, Nate? Lu Lu?”
“No, thanks, Jacks! I’m good!” I holler up the stairs, drawing an accusatory look from Nathan.
“Lu Lu? Jacks?Jackson calls youLu Lunow?” He bolts up, grabbing the TV remote, hurling it just left of my head and into the wall. “Figures you’d have something going on with my brother too.” His eyes shoot to my phone vibrating in my pocket.
“One of your other boyfriends?”
