And why was I here again? Why did I think tonight would be any different?
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 anactualincome?” 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’renot 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.
