“It’s fine.” Ezra appears in the doorway, lifting one shoulder. “Your body’s just doing body things. It’s no big deal.”
“My body’s just doingbody things? What, are you a?—”
“Middle school teacher? Yes.” Laughing, he tosses one side of the fitted sheet across the bed. “And part of my job is to teach sex education.”
Together, we make up the bed with some of the softest linens I’ve ever felt. I want to trade my skin for these sheets.
“Thank you,” I say when we place the last of the pillows on the bed.
“You’re welcome.”
After breakfast, my cramps hit me like a wrecking ball, so I retreat to the sofa with ginger ale.
Ezra eases onto the couch beside me, his brow furrowed in concern. “You okay?”
“I will be once the ibuprofen kicks in. I’ll probably watch a movie and rest. The first two days of my period usually knock me on my ass.” I laugh, though nothing about that is funny. “You don’t have to sit here with me. I don’t want to bore you.”
“It’s cool. I have a video call with my lawyer, but it’s not until later. Then I promised Kane we’d grab a bite to eat.”
With a wince, I curl my feet under my bottom and rest my elbow on the sofa. I’ve never been more thankful for period panties and sweats.
Remote in hand, I regard Ezra. “I know you were away for your birthday this year, but did you get everything you wanted?”
Focus averted, he tugs at the bottom of his black athletic shorts. “Not exactly.”
I can’t help but grin at him. “I told you I’d give you a birthday blowie.”
“What?” He scoots in closer and rests an elbow over the back of the sofa. “No you didn’t.”
“I didn’t?” I hold up a hand, smirking at the chipped pink polish. “Hmm, must have just thought it, then.”
He licks his lips, his gaze intense. “That’s not what I wanted.”
I raise a brow in question, willing my heartbeat to remain steady.
“Not that Iwouldn’twant that.” He clears his throat. “Maybe we can, uh, revisit that later. No, there was this moment yesterday, right before I blew out my candles, when I looked at you and wished…” His dark eyes scan me over from chest to core, stealing my breath and all rational thought. “I wished you’d feel comfortable in your body again.”
I rear back in shock at his statement. “What? I feel?—”
Brows lowered, he pins me in place, his expression so frigid I feel like Princess Anna, forced into a standoff with Elsa.
“Okay. Maybe I don’t. It’s just…” Inhaling past the lancing pain in my chest, I focus on the horizon over his shoulder and beyond the lanai, praying for courage from the universe.
“What happened? Who did this to you?” With my chin between his thumb and forefinger, he forces me to look at him. “I’m not trying to push you, Millie, but you can trust me.”
I scan his face for any sign of insincerity but come up empty.
“I promise.”
It’s wild, how safe I feel with him when we really don’t know each other well at all. So with a deep breath, I begin. “You know how I was on tour forMamma Mia?”
He nods.
“The director was awful.” I grimace. “It was grueling work, and he demanded long hours of rehearsal with minimum breaks. It was probably illegal, now that I think about it. Anyway, I wasunder so much pressure as the lead. I was stressed and wasn’t taking very good care of my body. I slept like crap and ate like it too. I didn’t realize how bad I let it get until my costumes were too tight. Ugh.” My voice cracks. “Why couldn’t I have channeled my stress into running instead?” I wipe my tears, forcing myself to meet his eye. “The director noticed and threatened to give my part to my understudy if I didn’t get my shit together andlose the rolls.”
His eyes widen and his jaw drops in horror. “He said that?”
I wring my fingers in my lap. “Among other things.”
