Chapter 17
“M om, I seriously do not care, nor do I want to talk about him anymore. I don’t know why you feel the need to continuously bring him up.” Clasping the molten-hot metal with my pliers I pull, stretching it out until it cools and then I spark up the blowtorch again.
“Bunny, can you please stop what you’re doing for five minutes and speak to me? All I hear is loud clicking and you grunting and metal grating. It’s awful.”
Twisting the nozzle, I turn off the torch and set it down beside me, lifting my safety goggles onto my forehead and removing my gloves. “Done. Happy now?”
“Lose the tone and I will be.”
“No, I think I’ve earned this tone. Every time we’ve spoken in the last two weeks you feel the need to bring up Tod to me and I’m not interested. I told him the same and thankfully he’s taken the hint for the most part. What else is there to discuss?”
She huffs as I shift over to my small wooden stool, twisting my back around to release some of the muscle cramping I have in my lower back.
“I called to talk to you about Ava. Not Tod.”
“Oh, another winner. No thanks.”
“She told her mother that you blocked her.”
I snort. “That’s because I did. Look.” I sigh.
“I wasn’t going to do that to her. I wasn’t.
But she kept calling and texting me about her and Tod and I’m just…
Mom, I’m done. It’s all, ‘I hope you can be happy for us, and we love each other so much, and it should have always been me up there marrying him instead of you, and I know you can understand why he loves me and not you,’” I mock.
“Do you honestly expect me to sit there and take that? I told her I didn’t care what she and Tod did.
That I think she’s an awful human being for what she did to me , but she has zero remorse so fuck her. That’s right, Mom. Fuck. Her.”
“Bunny. She’s blood.”
“And sometimes water tastes better than blood when you’re forced to drink it.
Mom, she was sleeping with my fiancé for our entire relationship and is completely remorseless about it.
He at least had the grace to apologize and tell me I didn’t understand what I saw and heard and that I had it all wrong.
A lie, but hey, he tried. I understand she’s your niece, and that sucks for you, but I’m done with her. ”
“Well, I threatened Vicky that if she didn’t get her sniveling little slut daughter back on track, I wouldn’t give her another dime.”
My eyes bolt open wide, staring into the burning flame of the forge that is keeping me nice and toasty in this warehouse. So much for blood. “Mom? You didn’t.” And while I don’t love the word slut, and I’d certainly never use it on another woman, I’m also not about to defend my cousin.
“I did. But now they’ve both gone postal, and I just don’t have the energy or time for this. Duke is telling me I need to arrange for a large soiree for all his ranch employees and hands and Bunny, they only listen to country music and eat barbeque. What am I to do with that?”
I snicker, shaking my head. “I’m sure that’s not all they listen to or eat. But if it is, then you have to respect that about them and cater the party to their needs. Minus the country, it sounds fantastic.”
“I’m hoping you’ll fly home for it. Mitchell and Elijah, as well as Ellis and his girls, are planning to come if you do.”
Now I full-out laugh. “And I’m sure you love that.”
“I love that they love you. Tell me, are you eating well? Avoiding carbs? Exercising daily? Please tell me you’re working on yourself, Bunny, because at your wedding—”
“I looked gorgeous and am beautiful no matter my size or weight?” I sharply interject, so very done with all of this too. “Then yes, Mom. That’s exactly how I am right now. I’ll think about coming home, but I’m hanging up on you now.”
“Bunny, you need to—”
I disconnect the call, wanting to chuck my phone into the forge and watch it burn. For all her love, I’m still not enough. Never perfect or even close to it.
I’m the daughter of an NFL lineman and a beauty queen who clearly favors her father’s genetics. I’m tall. I’m thick. I also like to eat. I do work out and I do care for myself and I do watch what I eat, but this is my body. No matter how little I eat or how much I work out, this is still my body.
It hasn’t been easy.
Hell, it’s been downright awful to find the strength to look in the mirror and love the woman staring back at me.
It’s a daily struggle and some of those days I’m better at it than others.
The past couple of weeks have been the worst with that.
I continuously get caught up in others’ expectations of me.
Others’ hurtful words. I have large breasts, a soft belly, thick thighs, and an ass.
I’ll never be thin by society's standards.
And I’m okay with that. Finally. Sorta.
That has to be enough, even if no one else will see what I force myself to see.
That I am beautiful.
The whole wedding, Tod-Ava thing, seriously didn’t help my rocky self-esteem and then Kaplan teasing me about being attracted to me hurt. Especially as part of me couldn’t help but hope, couldn’t help but wonder—
Nope. Not doing it!
Shoving off the stool, I throw my goggles and gloves back on, ready to wield this very fine, delicate metal into something stunning.
It’s going to be so pretty when it’s finished.
I can feel it. And all these new things that I’ve been trying since I moved here are just reinventing my soul with artistic purpose.
I spent all last night here doing this, only going home to sleep for a few hours before I came back.
My ADHD did not enjoy the panic attack I gave it yesterday so it’s fueling me with unrefined energy and I’m honing it into organized work.
When you have ADHD as a kid, your life feels disjointed.
Out of control. You constantly feel like you’re failing at everything, never good enough because you’re always unable to hold still or remember basic things that everyone else remembers.
But I was lucky.
Elijah worked tirelessly with me, helping me daily to take all my restless energy and re-navigate it into my art, leaving my scrambled mind tired and more focused when it came to important tasks.
Like school. I didn’t start with metal until my mom married Duke and I worked on his ranch during summers.
That changed my existence. But as a teen, I learned to draw and paint and sculpt and even throw clay, and now I’m here, using my purposeful focus and concentration for important charitable work and allowing my nights to be consumed by my wandering mind, running wild, and creating beautiful chaos.
The moment the call with my mother ended, old-school Britney blasts back into my ears.
I return to my piece, staring down at the shining metal and the second I get back to it, my motherfluffing phone rings, blaring louder than ever.
Again. I chuck my gloves and slam down on the green button without looking at it.
“Mom, I think I made it clear, I don’t want to talk about Tod, Ava, or my body!”
“But what if I simply want to know what you’re doing?”
Kaplan. And just like that my heart rate shoots into the stratosphere as it does every time I hear his voice. Or see his handsome face. Or even think about him. Despite my best efforts, I react to him like a girl who should know better but craves the rush anyway.
“Why are you calling?”
“I just told you why I’m calling. And I wanted to make sure you’re okay after yesterday.”
“I’m fine.”
I shift my feet, gnawing on my bottom lip as I stare into the flames of the forge. I don’t know what to do with him calling me. With the hint of something I can’t quite place in his voice that’s making my body race with chills despite the sweltering heat I’m consumed in.
“I’m working.”
“Art work or foundation work?”
“Art work.”
He’s silent for a beat. Then… “What did she say about your body?”
“Nothing I’m not used to.”
A growl as the sound of the city filters in from his phone. He’s out somewhere and yet he’s calling me. “They’re all stupidly wrong. I hope you don’t believe them.”
“I’m not that innocent.”
“Huh?”
“Sorry. Britney was the last artist on my girls kick-ass playlist.”
“I have no idea what that means. But do you remember what I said to you when I pulled over my car before we reached the hotel the day you fled your wedding?”
Do I remember? It’s been permanently imprinted on my brain. On repeat. “No.”
He chuckles as if he can hear the lie straight from my brain. “I meant every word I said. Nothing hot or sexy about sharp bones and being too skinny. You’re beautiful, Bianca. I hope you know that. Have you had dinner yet?”
“Dinner?” I croak at the sharp change in topic when my mind wants to stay glued to what he just said.
Once again, Kaplan Fritz has me feeling totally off-balance.
I check my watch. “Um. No. I thought it was somewhere just after lunchtime, which goes to show you how off I am. But my lack of dinner would make my mother proud.”
A grunt. Then another growl. “Text me where you are. I’m bringing you dinner.”
Then he hangs up.
I glare at my phone. What happens if I don’t text him?
Kaplan: I will find you anyway even if you don’t tell me where you are.
“Argh! Mind reader. Stop! Crap.”
Me: You don’t have a geotracker on me, do you?
Kaplan: You wish. Send me the address of where you are, or I’ll have my family’s chief of security locate you. He’s also former MI6, so think James Bond only real and way cooler.
He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
Kaplan: Don’t test me. I absolutely can.
Oh my freaking what the hell? My head flies about, half expecting Kaplan to step out of the shadows like the sinister devil he is. How is he doing that? It’s like some sort of Jedi mind trick.