Page 70 of Vows We Never Made

What the fuck?

Not a chance.

Not here, not today, not right under my nose.

Hattie’s shoulders lock up. She looks down at her plate with pale-faced shame, and my hands ball into fists under the table.

I reach for her hand, prying it open.

She jumps at the touch.

I don’t look at her as I unfurl her fingers and link them with mine.

“Excuse me, Chef.” My smile feels like it’s doing a shitty job of hiding my teeth. “Can we get more hibachi rice and lobster rolls, please? More of that yum yum sauce, yeah. Fill the bowls to the top.”

I lock eyes with Julia.

Fuck yes, I want her to know I overheard what she whispered to Hattie, right in front of my parents, and it was unacceptable as hell.

If Hattie needs carbs to help take the edge off this agony, let her have them.

I don’t care if she isn’t a damn stick.

She’s curvy and real and fucking stunning.

There’s nothing wrong with her.

And I’m not about to sit and watch this nagging obsession with what she eats.

Julia turns red and clams up, finally leaving Hattie’s leg alone.

When Hattie moves again, she squeezes my hand hard.

She doesn’t say anything, not overtly, but it’s easy to get the message.

Thank you.

Dinner takes too long,but eventually we escape outside to the beach, only a short walk down from the boathouse out back.

Ares gives us the perfect excuse, needing a walk and a bathroom break after eating half his weight in sushi scraps.

The overgrown lump doesn’t truly care to move around, but I drag him along anyway.

Hattie joins me gratefully, sighing the instant we’re out the door.

For once, the silence between us feels easy, light.

I’m not looking for idle conversation, and she doesn’t look like she’s searching for the least painful way to crawl out of her skin anymore.

Lush green trees frame the road. The beach is a half-moon crescent of white sand, hugging the shore with a few other houses behind it on the hills.

The perfect place to dog walk, though with Ares, it’s more like coaxing him with every step.

Hattie pauses on the sand to pull off her heels and sling them over her finger.

“Thank you again,” she says, watching the waves churn. “You were a lifesaver back there.”

“It was nothing.”