I jerk my head around. “Oscar!”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Kayla. I just hate the guy. I hate that he made you hate yourself just because you were carrying a few extra pounds.”
I’m without words as I lay my head back on his chest.
“You know how I love curvy girls,” he goes on. “I always have.”
“I know. I’ve seen pictures of your ex,” I point out. “The evil woman who broke your heart.”
He laughs. “Yes, she was beautiful, but a total bitch in the end.”
“It only took you two years to figure it out,” I tease.
“Remember the first time we met?” he asks. “You know what I thought?”
“Um… let me think,” I start playfully. “You thought… ‘I want her naked in my bed.’”
“No, actually, I thought, ‘super cute, but too skinny for my taste.’”
I jerk up off him, mouth hanging. “You didn’t.”
“Yeah, I thought you were pretty cute, but you weren’t really my type.”
“Really?”
“But then you kept coming round with those homemade muffins, and you were so sweet and beautiful and I completely fell for you.”
I smile at the memory. “Yeah, I had a pretty big crush on you. I might have not been your type, but you were totally mine.”
“Those muffins were pretty bad.”
I laugh. “What? They’re healthy. Made with almond flour and flax seed.”
He cringes. “Exactly.”
I’m taken back to those first few weeks — we were always in bed. “Well, you didn’t seem to mind my body too much when we were fucking twenty-four seven.”
His grin is wicked. “Oh, the first time we fucked, I thought you were the sexiest little thing ever. I loved your sweet little tits and ass,” he tells me. “And I still do.”
I lie back on him. “Women come in all shapes and sizes, and we’re all beautiful. It’s such a shame that society makes us feel less than. I hate that there’s this stupid standard we all struggle to live up to.” I look up at him, so many painful memories in my heart. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to hate your own body? To want to be someone else?”
It’s not really a question. It’s just something I say out loud because I need to say it. I’m shocked when his face falls and his gaze suddenly escapes mine. “I do.”
“What? Seriously, Oscar?” I laugh. “I’ve seen how comfortable you are with your body. Lord knows, I’ve seen you strut around naked around my apartment enough times,” I joke.
I expect him to chuckle a little and say something snarky, but he’s quiet, not quite himself.
“I’ve seen pictures of you. You’ve always been painfully good-looking,” I tease, but again, he doesn’t crack even the slightest hint of a smile.
“Listen, I wanted to take you somewhere,” he says, abruptly changing the subject. “When you were in Montmartre, you didn’t get a chance to hop on the carousel. I know you must have been dying to.”
I laugh. “You know me too well, buddy.”
“I do.”
“You wanna go again?” he asks. “Then we could pop by Moulin Rouge for dinner and a show. Tomorrow?”
“Ahhhh… there it is. I knew you had an ulterior motive… scantily clad women flinging their legs up while you drink wine and eat steak. Life could be worse, right?”
