Page 54 of Sunny Side Up

epilogue

Life with Dennis had been extraordinary, busy and bustling and beautiful. We couldn’t wait to take time off together. Avery was pretty sure he was going to propose, so she forced me to get my nails done. I was just happy to be going anywhere with Dennis, as long as it wasn’t a frozen tundra.

My parents, Michael, and Ellie were all set to join us for the tail end of the trip.

The Golden Girls, of which Georgie was now an official member, were having the time of their lives at Robert and Carlisle’s.

Dennis and I had moved in together in his grandmother’s incredible floor-through apartment in an old Chelsea brownstone, and we were in the middle of renovations.

Robert and Carlisle, who were only a few blocks away, happily took the dogs any time the construction wasn’t dog-friendly.

They were both very open about the fact that, if Dennis and I were to split, they’d choose him over me in a heartbeat.

No greater compliment. “You’re stuck with both of us, though, I’m afraid,” I’d told them.

Earlier that morning, Noor and I had gone to see Brooke’s new gorgeous two-bedroom apartment on East Seventy-Second Street in a delightful, kid-friendly neighborhood.

Which is why I was uptown in the first place.

Then I got the idea in my head that I really, really wanted these new Celine sunglasses that I knew only Bergdorf Goodman carried, and Dennis had texted to see if I wanted to meet up for lunch, so I figured, why not make a little afternoon of it?

This time, though, I wasn’t scared. I was excited. It meant that Dennis and I could make a pit stop on the sixth floor: swimwear.

Even though I’d seen it before, even though I knew it was waiting for me, the sight still gave me full-body chills. I choked up every time.

There, in the swimsuit section, was my full SONNY collection—which included a Bergdorf Goodman–exclusive suit—hanging in all its colorful, playful (and, might I add, sexy) full-size-range glory. Ready to be adored.

I smiled and shook my head. “Holy shit ,” said Dennis. “Look at this. Sunny, it’s incredible . Hold my sunglasses. I’m gonna try something on.”

He started perusing the rack, holding up each suit one by one, as though the poor guy wasn’t drowning in SONNY samples at home, as though this were his first time oohing and aahing over them. “I love the beading on this one,” he said, snapping a million pictures on his phone.

This was everything Avery, Kateryna, and I had worked for, everything we’d dreamed of. Our clothing company was in department stores around the world.

SONNY was in Bergdorf’s.

I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t, honestly.

Dennis was playing salesman to a confused yet appreciative woman who’d walked over to the SONNY display.

In his trademark eighties Patagonia and basketball shorts, he didn’t look like your typical sixth-floor Bergdorf stylist, but he was giving this woman the full rundown of our line, the intricacies of each suit’s luxury fabric and hand-stitched detailing, the brand’s ethos.

I couldn’t have done it better myself. He was handing her a fourth suit to try on when I heard a sudden, all-too-familiar muffled sob from the dressing room.

Someone was definitely crying in there, likely frustrated—possibly furious at themself—over what they saw reflected back in the mirror.

I thought back to all those afternoons I’d wasted in the same position, all the horrible moments in dressing rooms, in Bergdorf’s and beyond, where I’d pinched at flesh and hated my body, too.

Luckily, this time, I knew just what to do. I’d spent the past year growing, working, teaching. I was in the process of writing a whole-ass book on body acceptance, if you could believe it. And there, in the place where it all began, I had my solution at the ready.

I grabbed a few hangers from the SONNY section, a sampling of sizes, colors, and my favorite styles, and I headed to the fitting room.

It was time to make someone’s day a little brighter.

I smiled knowingly to myself and knocked twice on the dressing room door.