“Yes,” he took her hand, “you were in your element.”
“Louis—he’s the horse—and Troy were.”
“I figured Louis was the horse.” Wes’s eyes glittered with amusement.
“Don’t you have work to do instead of taking me to lunch?”
“I was hungry.” He shrugged. “And after lunch, I need to buy a birthday present.”
“I’m hungry too. I only had coffee this morning.”
His eyes held her in place. “About five years ago, Ian’s wife was critically hurt. She became dangerously thin. She was comatose; they fed her by tube. When she regained consciousness, the tube became a battle. All of our group did our best to help her. Ellie, I know what a battle about eating looks like. Who created your battle, Curly?” Wes took her hand.
“Today, I got up, meditated, took a shower and had some coffee. I was so intent on Louis, I forgot to eat. But…” She stared at a spot on the wall.
Wes knew she was about to get creative with the truth again.
“Growing up, food was used as a trophy. Something to fight for. I was either too fat or too skinny. Eating was regimented.” A flash of pain flickered through her eyes.
Wes could tell there was more to her statement.
“When I got to college, I learned about food. And it became my friend, a comfort. I do my best to eat healthy, but I don’t punish myself if I’m not perfect with my diet. I’ve participated in therapy, trained as a therapist and still don’t understand fat shaming. When I worked at Coventry, there was the sweetest young girl. Growing up, she experienced terrible sexual abuse. Eating and growing bigger protected her. That is, until elementary school, where the fat shaming started. I got to her at fifteen. She weighed sixty pounds, half what her normal weight should be. One Monday, I came to work, and she was gone. No one called me. She died in her sleep.”
Wes reached across the table and took both her hands. “Curly, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you discuss such painful things.”
“It’s weird, but it was easy to tell you,” she sighed.
The waitress served them. As they were eating, the conversation eased to less emotional territory. “Troy had me hysterical. He told me about how he and Julian lost a client they were watching.”
Wes laughed. “I forgot about that. They both lost pay on that one, not that the brats made it easy. Two hormonal teens disappeared on the grounds of a museum to fool around. Troy, the tactician, grabbed the boy. The girl scratched and clawed.”
“He also told me about the alligator.”
“Jule lost a good pair of shoes on that one. But the client lived.”
“Do you have any great stories?”
Wes scratched his chin. “We were training to repel off a building. My friend Kip rigs my harness. It became apparent the rigging wasn’t quite perfect. I jump, and the harness almost makes me a eunuch. I cursed with a voice like a soprano all the way down. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Julian and my colleague Zach recorded it. They got a lot of mileage out of that tape.”
Eleanor chewed her lip like she was trying not to laugh. Tears dampened her eyes. Unable to contain herself, she gave in.
Wes’s expression suddenly changed. At the tinkle of the bell, Tara Blanchard, Desi Barrett, Addy Ratliff and Marcia Roland walked in.
Eleanor turned to see what caused Wes’s change in temperament. “Ugh.”
“Curly, look at me. I’m not going to hide how I’m starting to feel about you. I don’t want you caring about the rumors.”
“You know?” Her eyes widened.
He cocked his head. “That we slept together?”
“Not much gets past you.” She looked down.
I wish that were true.He had his own doubts.
The hostess led the four down the aisle toward an available booth two behind him and Eleanor. Wes whispered, “I’ve got you.”
She nodded.
