He raised an eyebrow. “You’ll stay here again tonight?”
“As long as you’ll let me.”
“Good,” Maverick muttered, kissing my forehead. “Have fun with Callie. I’ll text you when I’m wrapping up?”
“Sure.”
He dipped his head to kiss my lips, his tongue prying my mouth open and dancing with my own. He kissed me like I would be his forever, with the way his hands cupped my faceand didn’t push to go further. He kissed me like he didn’t want to leave without making sure I felt it—felt him, felt the weight of what we weren’t saying. Like he was imprinting himself on my lips, a silent reminder that even when he walked out that door, I wouldn’t be able to forget him. Then, just as quickly, he pulled away. “I’ll leave a key on the counter.” He paused. “Also, don’t overthink it. It’s so you can come and go as you please.”
My face heated, because I was, actually, about to overthink the fact that he was a leaving a key for me. “Okay. And the code to get to the penthouse floor since you won’t be here to buzz me up?”
He winked at me, and my heart flipped. “My birthday.”
“But I don’t—”
“You’re a detective. I’m sure you can figure it out,” he teased, leaving the bedroom with me trailing behind him. “Oh, and one more thing.” He tossed a glance over his shoulder and gave me a sinful grin, a few locks of hair falling over his forehead. “You should leave your hair natural today. I love the waves.”
With another quick kiss and a promise to see me later, he was gone. I self-consciously touched my damp hair, now springing into waves that would soon become frizzy if I didn’t diffuse them now. No one had ever taken a liking to my hair’s natural texture, and honestly, I never had either. I always thought it made my face look childish and round. I only kept it natural when I stayed at my mom’s.
But he likes the waves.
Torn between doing something to please a man and doing what was within my comfort zone, I made my way to the bathroom. I focused on my makeup first, taking my time to contour and put blush in the areas that complimented my features, something I had to master in order to feel good about the way I looked.
I did decide to keep the waves, owning it as I put cream in my hair and diffused the curls with my hair dryer. They looked sleek and pretty for what they were, but I felt like a different person now.
Blowing air through my lips, I rifled through my bag and pulled out the only acceptable thing I’d brought to wear to brunch: a skin-tight black jumpsuit with thin straps and a low back. I grimaced at it, already feeling off-kilter about my appearance, but pulled it on anyway. I turned to the side and looked at myself in the mirror. I felt suddenly bloated, but my stomach was flat.
I ran my hands over my curves.
Turned to look at myself from all angles.
Narrowed my eyes at anything I didn’t like… wondered how I could get rid of it.
The stretch marks along the sides of my breasts, slightly visible if I raised my arms.
The way my stomach creased if I bent over or sat down.
I knew if I took my jumpsuit off, I’d find other things I didn’t like—cellulite on my thighs, more stretch marks on my hips, both more noticeable with the shade of my skin.
I also knew what would happen if I went too far down this path.
So, I forced myself away from the mirror, swiped the key to Maverick’s penthouse from the kitchen counter, and left to meet Callie, shooting a quick text to Marcus to find out Maverick’s birthday for me.
***
Callie was always punctual, but my nerves grew as the minutes ticked by. Where was she? I hated eating in public. It put unnecessary pressure on me to order what the masses werehaving or to eat excessive calories. She knew this, even if I hadn’t admitted it aloud to her until recently.
Nerves had my shoulders bunching and my skin feeling itchy.
Breathe. You’re okay.
I rolled my lips together anxiously, ignoring the grumble of my stomach from the smell of delicious food. Pancakes, French toast, waffles, massive omelets, and breakfast burritos. My mouth watered, but I was wearing something so tight-fitting that it would be obvious if I ate too much.
“Sorry I’m late!” Callie called as she half ran to our booth. Relieved, I jumped up and hugged her, but before I could sit back down, she held me at arm’s length and raked her eyes over me—once, twice,threetimes—before her eyes narrowed, sadness flickering through them. “Sophie, you look like you’ve lost weight.”
I brushed her off and took a seat. “It’s only a few pounds. It’s fine.” She reluctantly sat, her eyes never leaving my face.
“Sophie, has something happened? You only do this when—”
