“What about FrenchSHEs?”
I shake my head. Since gaining all this weight, I’ve been too embarrassed to show my face there. I really miss karaoke nights, though. I’ve made enough putting in extra hours with LULU—and even dabbling in the audiobook industry recently—to keep myself afloat. Thank goodness my apartment is rent-controlled.
“Are you okay?”
With a sigh, I close my eyes for a long moment. I might as well get it over with. “How come you haven’t asked about my weight?”
Brows furrowed, she tilts her head and studies my face. “Why would I ask about your weight?”
I look down at the dimples in my thick thighs. The new, albeit faint, stretch marks peeping out from my cutoffs. My curves stand out in stark contrast to her toned and petite frame. We used to share clothes. Clearly, that won’t be happening any time soon.
“If you want to tell me about your body,” she says, “that’s your prerogative. I’m here to support you, no matter what.” She squeezes my hand three times, our unspoken way to say “I love you.”
I squeeze back four times—I love you too—and push back the tears. My cousin is so damn sweet.
Inhaling deeply, I ground myself. “The tour was so stressful, Jo. The director was an assho—really demanding. The castmates I lived with were big partiers. They’d be up late blasting music, and I could never get enough sleep. I wasn’t eating well either. Ididn’t love the people I worked with and… it was so stressful.” Tears crest my lashes, and though I wipe at them quickly, more fall behind them. “I don’t even know how it got this bad. It just happened. I used food to cope, and now I can’t get the weight off.”
“Shh. It’s okay.” Joey hugs me.
I sob into her neck, and when she pulls back, I tug at the hem of my shirt to pull it away from my body. “I feel so stupid. And gross.”
“Stop it. Don’t talk about my best friend like that,” she scolds.
“It’s true,” I whisper, forcing myself to maintain eye contact. “I don’t even know who I am anymore. I don’t recognize myself in the mirror. I don’t know if I want to keep doing this.”
Joey’s eyes widen. “Doing what?”
“Performing.”
“But that’s your dream.”
I sniffle, chest aching at the thought.
I’ve been performing for as long as I can remember. School plays, theater camp, vocal lessons, dance classes. I’ve dreamed of being on Broadway my entire life. I memorized every word ofAnnieby the time I was five.
“It was fun in the beginning, but I don’t know. There’s so much pressure and…” I trail off. That’s all she needs to know.
She gives me a sympathetic smile. “So what’s next?”
“To be honest, I think I’m going to take a break from acting for a bit. Live theater, at least. I love working for LULU, and if I visit Asher this summer, I can bring my equipment and work from there.”
“Uh.” She cringes. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to record erotic stories at your brother’s house? And around his daughter?”
“Fair point.” I laugh, a hint of lightness threading throughme. “That would be humiliating. But there are other cabins on the property. I could have my own space.”
My brother owns a retreat center on a lake that doubles as a summer camp for families an hour and a half north of Manhattan.
“Ugh,” I groan. “What I really need is a fucking vacation.”
Joey’s phone rings, interrupting my mini meltdown.
She eyes me, worrying her lip. “It’s Cam.”
Lord, that man cannot go two hours without her.
With a wave of my hand, I scoff. “Answer it.”
“Hey, babe,” she sings. “Yeah, she’s right here. Why?” Nose scrunched, she eyes me. “Cam wants to know if we’re doing anything tonight.”
