Cherry believed in herself. And she believed in hard work. And she really believed that someday she would flip a switch and she’d master her weight. She’d put it behind her. Her face and body would sharpen into focus, and she would step into herafter.
She came to her senses earlier than most women.
The evidence around her was stark, and Cherry wasn’t prone to magical thinking.
There was noafter.
No switch.
No amount of hard work or self-control or even self-abuse that would change her.
Thiswas her true form.
This was the body that would carry her through the world. This was her only vehicle for pleasure.
Cherry refused to dream skinny dreams.
For anyone.
Chapter 41
When Cherry woke up the next morning, she had three texts from Russ, which she didn’t open, and one from Tom:
“Hi, Cherry, I was wondering if I could walk Stevie today. And maybe finish up the garage.”
Cherry felt a surge of anger. (Everything bad she was feeling was Tom’s fault. The last twenty-four hours were Tom’s fault. The last year. The last decade.)
The anger was pointless.
“Sure,”she texted.“Did you just get back?”
“I’ve been back a few days. Sorry I haven’t been working on the house.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Stevie was still lying on the bed. She looked up at Cherry like she expected to get kicked off. Cherry got up and put a sweater on over her pajamas so she wouldn’t have to put on a bra, and went down to the kitchen to make coffee. Stevie followed close behind—she didn’t even hesitate on the stairs.
While Cherry waited for the coffee to brew, Stevie tried to shove between her thighs. Cherry leaned against the counter so that she wouldn’t fall over, and absently reached back—half patting Stevie, and half pushing her away. Cherry felt empty, hollowed out from her fingertips to her toes.
Tom knocked on the door when he got there.
Stevie went crazy, barking and jumping on the front door. It was like she knew it was him.
Cherry opened the door and stepped back to let Stevie have at him.
“Who’s my good girl?” Tom said, petting Stevie with both hands and letting her jump up on him. They were of a height. “I missed you, too.”
Cherry put her hand on Stevie’s kennel, still feeling numb and off-balance.
Tom didn’t come into the house. Or look up at Cherry. “I think I can finish the garage today. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Whatever works best for you.”
He wasn’t wearing a coat—just a hooded sweatshirt and a knit cap. His face was flushed from the cold. “Do you have her leash?”
“I’ll get it,” she said. “Don’t you need a coat?”
“I think my coats are still here.”
