Chapter Thirty-Five
ELLIE
“Well, that’s bullshit,” Marc defended me. Out of all of them, he was one I least expected to speak up. I’d been surprised to see him here more than anyone else in the family. “Romance novels are the highest grossing paid fiction genre. They amass billions of dollars in revenue every year.”
Glamma crossed her arms. “They allow the human experience to take center stage and give women full autonomy over their bodies and lives. It’s freeing to read them.”
“Well, I guess I can see all that,” Celia conceded.
“But how do you expect to make money when your heroines are fat, Ellie? Who wants to read that?” My sister’s innocent expression didn’t fool me for a second.
I still remembered the day she found out about my writing and that my heroine’s were plus-size she’d mocked me then too.
The flames of rage ignited in my stomach, crawled up my throat, and burst from my mouth without warning. I shook with fury. “Everyone is beautiful, Celia,” I snapped. “Weight or body type has nothing to do with it.”
She opened her mouth to respond.
I held up my hand. “No, I’m not finished.
How dare you gatekeep a genre you supposedly don’t even read?
It’s people like you who perpetuate the idea that plus-size women need to be small in this world.
That we shouldn’t take up space. And that’s not true.
We deserve the epic love story just as much as women who are a size two.
But beyond that, fat people are a thousand percent worthy of love, and so is everyone in the world.
Not one type of person has a monopoly on giving or receiving love.
And if even one of my books gives someone hope that the assholes of this world are not right, that they can find love in all its forms, then I’ve done what I set out to do. ”
Every member of Drew’s family regarded my sister with narrowed eyes.
“That’s a pretty speech and all, but does it bring in an actual income?” Mom’s snide tone scratched beneath the surface of my skin.
Of course she’d make it about money.
“It can,” I said, defending myself for the hundredth time to her. “But I’m just starting out as an indie author. So it’ll take a while for my books to be seen, but I’m okay with that.”
My mother just rolled her eyes, dismissing me as she’d done my entire life.
The rest of our extended family watched the back-and-forth like they were at a tennis match.
Drew pushed his seat back, but before he could stand and confront them, I put my hand on his arm. “It’s not worth it.”
They’re not worth it. God, it felt good to say that.
“You let me know when it’s out, kiddo,” Auntie Betty said. “I’ve read plenty of bodice rippers in my time.”
Before I could respond, Mother jumped in. “Oh. Good. Desserts here.”
Way to deflect.
Martha stood frozen just outside the doors, holding a large tray of small plates. She must have come outside in the middle of my outburst and not known what to do.
With the anger radiating off Glamma, it was probably wise her friend had stopped so far away. Otherwise, I was pretty sure a few people would be wearing dessert right about now.
Plates were passed out, but what I knew was delicious apple pie with ice cream tasted like ash on my tongue.
Now I was even angrier that Celia and Mom were ruining homemade apple pie for me. It was one of my favorite desserts.
“What flowers did you pick?” Our Auntie Kristine, Dad’s sister, asked Celia, breaking the tense silence.
Celia’s gaze flicked to me. “A few different types, but I also had to take what was in season. We didn’t have time to fly in what I’d have preferred. But my viewers are so understanding.”
“That’s so cool. Which channel or network is supporting you?” Our cousin, Jon, asked and I could’ve kissed him. I’d been wondering the same thing.
Celia smiled and shrugged. “I really can’t say just yet. NDA, and all that.”
“Oh, how secretive,” Auntie Betty grinned.
Someone laughed.
“I might have missed it,” Grace gave Celia a fake-sweet smile, “but what flowers did you say you picked?”
She was right. Celia hadn’t said. Even though Drew and I had done it for her she’d sent me the list of what to choose. She should’ve remembered what they were.
This whole not over-the-top gushing did seem off. Yay to Grace for seeing that.
“It was such a whirlwind that day when I decided, so it’s hard to remember them all, but Ellie was fantastic and helped to pick them out.”
A coldness settled in my chest. If she’d loved the flowers chosen, why didn’t she remember? I could recite them from memory; they were all my favorite—Japanese anemones, white roses, pale pink peonies.
“Celia, just show them.” Mom laid a hand on my sister’s arm. “She has a whole binder full of ideas,” she announced to the table.
An odd expression crossed Celia’s face, but it vanished too quickly for me to interpret it.
Mom reached into the oversized bag draped over the back of her chair. I wondered why she even had it with her—they were staying at the B&B and could have easily run upstairs for anything they needed.
She hefted out an old, worn album.
My heart lodged in my throat.
No.
She didn’t.
She couldn’t have.
What in the actual hell?
The familiar purple cover came into view—plastered with photos of my teen celebrity crushes. Stickers spelled out ‘Dream Wedding Ideas’ at the top, but I didn’t need to be reading the letters to know what it said or what was inside.
I knew this binder intimately.
Every page.
Every clipping.
Every sketch and note written in my teenage handwriting.
Hours and hours of dreams carefully curated over the years.
A chill ran through me the longer I stared at the cover that once meant everything to my younger self.
That’s mine. That’s MINE!
“That’s … that’s … ” Words escaped me. My vision tunneled until all I could see was that purple cover.
My sister gave me a weak smile. “Guess what I found at Kyle’s? It was at the back of his closet, and when I saw it, I knew it was a sign.”
A sign?!
The room tilted slightly. When I’d packed up my belongings from Kyle’s apartment, I must have left it behind. I’d been so frantic to get out, so heartbroken and humiliated—
And she’s been planning her wedding with MY dreams?
“A sign to use my ideas?” I finally gasped out. My voice sounded strange to my own ears, high and thready.
“It’s not like you’re using them,” Celia snapped.
I couldn’t tell if she was completely oblivious to how this made me feel or if she simply didn’t care. Based on our history, I was leaning toward the latter.
“Eleanor, you don’t have a monopoly over wedding details,” Mom snapped.
My horrified gaze swung to my mother. She’s defending this?
“There are a million ideas out there. Different combinations, different colors, styles.” I turned back to Celia, heat rising in my chest. “We don’t even have the same taste!”
She shrugged. “Yeah, but when I showed my followers, they went nuts over it.”
And there it was. The why.
It wasn’t to directly hurt me—though that was certainly a bonus for her. It was that using my ideas benefited her content, and that was far more important than being a decent sister.
She took my dreams and monetized them.
I needed to get away from here before I did something I’d regret on camera.
I shoved my chair back and stood abruptly.
Drew rose beside me.
“Please stay,” I said to him, “I need a minute by myself.” My voice cracked on the last word.
He didn’t follow me as I skirted around the table, whispers trailing in my wake. Glamma might have shouted something, but pandemonium had erupted, and I didn’t want any part of it.
The downstairs hall bathroom was the closest refuge. I closed the door softly and locked it, when all I wanted to do was to slam it hard enough to rattle the frame. But Martha’s door didn’t deserve my rage.
Dark black wainscotting covered the bottom half of the walls and matched my mood perfectly. The upper walls were a pretty floral scene. I turned toward the round gold mirror hanging over the lone sink and stared at my reflection.
I was pale, stunned, shaking slightly. But beneath the shock, something else glimmered—a light radiating through the cracks. A knowing settled in my heart.
I’m ready to finally break free.
Words poured out of my mouth. I didn’t know if I was creating a mantra or commanding myself to listen, to believe.
“I am enough. I am unstoppable. I can do anything. I have everything I need within my beautiful, strong heart. I won’t let them break me.
I am powerful. I am brave.” I spoke faster and faster, adding more phrases as they came to me, letting them build until a sense of calm washed over me like a wave.
I was officially done with the people I shared blood with.
Well, except for Auntie Betty. She was cool.
With a renewed faith in myself and a steadfast refusal to take any more of their shit, I opened the bathroom door.
Immediately, my sister’s voice came from the nearby parlor. It was low and seductive and made me want to gag.
There was no way I’m standing around while she and Kyle had a moment.
Blech.
I took a step and froze.
Was that Drew’s voice?
I quietly moved to stand by the open doorway, my heart racing.
“Come on, Drew. You can’t tell me you don’t feel it too,” Celia purred.
What?
“You’re delusional.” His annoyed tone should have delighted me, but ice was forming in my veins.
“We don’t need to deny our attraction to each other. Besides, I know your relationship with Ellie is fake. My camera guy overheard you at Ruby Night.”
She knew?
“We’re not denying anything. I want nothing to do with you. And aren’t you forgetting Kyle?”
“Kyle has his side pieces, too. It’s not a big deal.”
Holy crap!
I almost swallowed my tongue. How many people had Kyle actually cheated on me with?
Then it struck me fully—she knew Drew and I had faked our relationship. It must have been when we were talking after the Ferris wheel.
I was curious to see how she’d try to use this against us. Against me.