I smacked his chest.
“Thank you, guys, so much. I thought I’d have to put together all the furniture by myself. I didn’t want to ask you guys.”
“What? We’re the funcles. It’s the least we can do, Sis,” Dukeresponded.
“Fun uncles?” I laughed.
“Oh no, no, no,” his eyebrows scrunched together. “Fucking fun uncles, duh,” he responded with a smile.
I shoved his gut. “Whatdid-”
“I say about swearing?! I know, I know,” he laughed.
——
The next morning, I woke up early and got to work making breakfast.
I figured a game day called for a big spread, so I threw my hair up in a messy bun and then laid out the pancake mix, syrup, eggs, and bacon among other things.
But the back of one of the boxes made me pause.
For years I was tethered to the calorie counts on everything. I was practically addicted. I’d calculate up my count for the day before allowing or denying myself any food, and I’d constantly weigh myself to make sure I didn’t gain anyweight…
I looked down at my belly, which felt like it was getting bigger by the day. I knew going into this pregnancy that I was going to get big. And that was agoodthing, I tried to tell myself. It was healthy and needed for my baby… Nick’s baby.
But it was still a struggle.
It’s no secret that I battled body dysmorphia and eating disorders during and after figure skating. Skating had turned into a sport for girls, not women. The introduction of teenage proteges and quad jumps did not help things. You couldn’t have curves when launching your body up in the air and trying to spin as quickly as possible…. After my ankle and taking that whole summer off, it was rough. When I went back to the rink, the girls whispered and Victoria chastised me for gaining weight… but I had Nick, and he liked my new curves, so I tried not to care… but it was still hard.
After skating, I aimed for a healthy weight instead of being stick thin… But the whole thing messed with my head. When I looked back on pictures from that time, I burned with anger over how ridiculous the whole thing was because there was no way in hell I should’ve ever been made to see myself so negatively during thattime…
Nick always knew when to step in and give me a helping hand though. It’s almost like he could sense it, and he knew how to make me feel better. He’d take me out on an adventure to get my mind off it, and he’d take me to French or Italian restaurants which were so fancy that we couldn’t even really read the menu or ingredients. Whenever he found a scale in our bathroom, he wouldn’t care what I had to say about it, he’d promptly hide it or throw it in the trash out by the curb.
But I was older now. I had to handle it myself, and not just for me… I touched my stomach again.
It was just hard having to keep track of my weight and seeing it at each doctor’s appointment.
I took a deep breath and resolved to look away from now on…
When I looked back up, I jumped because a shirtless Griff in gray sweatpants was standing there at the edge of the kitchen, watching me. I sheepishly turned the food labels away, feeling embarrassed that he caught me.
“How bout I order up some take-out from the breakfast diner down the street, yeah?” He asked with a blank face.
“Um… I wanted to cook for you guys,” I offered.
“How bout next time? I’m really craving that place. You can go pick it up if you want?” he asked with raised eyebrows.
I felt my shoulders slump but nodded. That would probably be best because I already kinda lost my appetite for the things in front of me.
Fifteen minutes later, I was holding the big take-out bag, as well as Beau’s leash. I figured he needed to get out and take a little walk; he loved going to new places. I bought him a little doggie jacket and booties, and I got a kick out of how funny he walked with them on.
Back in the apartment, I quickly spread out all the take-out food, but when I went to get some juice from the fridge, I noticed somethingodd…
And it wasn’t just the juice…
The calorie labels were torn off all the food in the fridge…
Griff slumped into the room, rubbing his sleepy eyes and stretching out his long, muscular arms. He must’ve fallen back to sleep… I couldn’t help but notice that he always looked good. His hair was always perfectly tousled into a foehawk, and the level of scruff on his face was… hot… and now my eyes trailed down to chest and six pack…
