The Hero and the Fat Girl (New Hampshire Bears #3) (5 page)

“I moved it all to my bedroom.”

I spin around to see Remington leaning against the doorframe.

“I didn’t move your personal items in the drawers.”

“Thanks.” I nod. “I’ll do it tonight.”

“May I ask why you’re home early?”

“I had an appointment this morning and it ran over. So, I took a personal day and am heading to the gym with the girls. Then I’ll pick up Arabella from school and take her shopping.”

He nods as I stroll past him to the master bedroom. I have been in here a few times before now. It’s a masculine room with white walls, navy blue trim. His bed is massive, and I’m thankful because I’ve never slept with anyone. I’m not sure how I’ll react.

“Your stuff is here.” He opens the closet door.

Like everything else in the house, it’s a huge walk-in. Remington has arranged my clothes in perfect color coordinated order.

“Thanks,” I mutter and grab a pair of sweats and a large t-shirt. I head straight for the master bathroom and change.

When I walk out, Remington is still standing in the bedroom.

“I’d like to talk to you.” His voice is sad.

“I’m going with the girls. Later, okay?” I rush out of the room and out to my car.

I turn up the radio loud to help drown out my thoughts. I don’t want to think about Remington or my weight right now. I definitely don’t want to think about what will happen when I have to leave Arabella.

The spin class is almost full, but I see Harlow and Meadow in the back saving me a bike.

“You look stressed out,” Harlow comments as I climb out the stationary bike.

“Long day.” I shrug and keep my face forward.

Thankfully, the instructor starts, and we don’t talk for the next thirty minutes. My legs are burning, and I have to keep wiping my brow, keeping the sweat out of my eyes. I remain focused the entire time, and I’m pretty proud of myself. Generally, there are times I can’t keep up, but I do my best. This time, I did.

When the class ends, I listen to Harlow’s joking with Meadow, who has the hardest time with jelly legs after spinning. I have the same issue, but Meadow isn’t very coordinated. Harlow suggests we go to the juice bar. I should pass since I need to shower before I go pick up Arabella, but water sound like a better idea.

Meadow begins to talk about her latest book. I wish I had creative talents or was able to put thoughts onto paper like Meadow who’s an author. However, Meadow’s talent is amazing, and she has carved out a successful career.

Harlow goes on about her editing jobs and how Dacey is saving her from going insane. Then she starts in about her hot, sex life with Keaton, but thankfully Meadow stops her before Harlow gives us all the details.

“How’s the family?” Harlow asks.

“Fine. Today, I’m taking Arabella shopping because she’s starting dance classes tomorrow.”

“And Remington?” Meadow grins.

“Great.” I lie, of course. It shouldn’t come this easy to me. It just makes me an even worse person. “But I need to get going. Thanks and we’ll do a girl’s night soon.” I jump up and head out before they can ask more questions.

Again, I blast music to drown out my thoughts. I need to focus on getting home, getting Arabella from school, and then taking her to the store.

When I walk into the house, it’s quiet, and I assume Remington is out. I jog up the stairs to the master bedroom. Well, I guess this is my room, temporarily, until his parents leave.

He had left open the drawers that would be mine, and I quickly grab my items from the other room and place them in the drawers. Remington has arranged my bottles and makeup the way I had in the other bathroom. Just the way I like it. It’s sweet he went to all the trouble. I jump into the shower, reveling in the numerous showerheads massaging my body. I could spend an obscene amount of time in here, but I’m too busy today.

When I finish, I quickly dry my hair, do my makeup, and throw on a pair of jeans and shirt. I slip into a pair of peep-toe boots and head out, only to find Remington sitting on the bed facing the bathroom door.

“Hi.” He grins.

“Hi.”

“Do you mind if I come with you two?”

“To shop?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t mind. I figured you were busy.” I didn’t know what his training schedule was like or if he’d be too exhausted.

“Maybe we can grab some dinner.”

“Great.” I walk around the bed and grab my purse. “Ready?”

“Sure.” He stands. “I’ll drive.”

I follow him out to the garage, and he holds the car door open for me. I’m waiting for Remington to say something about our dinner last night or the favor he asked me, but he says nothing the entire way to the school. The couple of times I glance at him, his eyes are straight ahead, focused on the road.

Pulling up to the school, I spot Arabella standing by her teacher and a few other classmates. She only has a couple weeks left of summer school, and she’s been doing great. I’m so proud of her.

“I’ll get her,” I say, hopping out of the car.

“Max!” Arabella yells and races to me, wrapping her arms around my hips.

“Hey.” I giggle. “Are you ready to go shopping?”

“Yes.” She bounces around me.

“Come on. Let’s get in the car.” When I open the door, she squeals when she sees Remington.

“Daddy!”

Remington chuckles. “Hi, honey.”

“Are you going shopping with us?”

“Yes, I am.” He smiles.

I slide into my seat and look back to make sure she’s all buckled in.

“I’m ready, Dad,” she announces and Remington drives off toward the mall.

Arabella begins to tell us all about her day and everything that happened. I give the girl credit: this eight year old never misses a detail. She then begins to tell us all about how much she’s going to love her dance classes.

When we reach the mall, she holds both of our hands as we make our way to the store. I pull up my list from the email the instructor sent me and begin to read it off.

“That’s a lot of stuff,” Remington says as we make our way through the store.

Arabella gets excited with each item we pick up and even tells the cashier as we check out. Remington carries the two large bags as we head out of the store.

“What’s next?” Arabella skips around us both.

“I have a surprise for Maxima,” he states, making us both stop.

“What?” I ask, racking my brain as to what kind of surprise he has planned.

“Come on.” He begins heading toward the other side of the mall.

“Come on, Max.” Arabella takes my hand and practically drags me to catch up with Remington. “I love surprises.”

I don’t like them.

I keep my mouth shut as we head toward the high end of the mall. At least that’s what I call it. He seems pleased with where were going as we head to the second floor of the department store.

“We’re here for Sharon.” Remington speaks to the woman behind the customer service desk.

“Yes, sir.” She picks up the phone, and I assume she’s calling Sharon.

He turns back to me and grins. He really can make my heart stop, but I rein my emotions in as a gorgeous, super-thin, blonde with a bright shiny white smile comes toward us.

“Mr. Rosin, we spoke on the phone. I’m Sharon.” She holds out her hand, and he shakes it.

“This is my daughter, Arabella and my fiancée, Maxima Keck.”

Sharon shakes my hand as well as Arabella’s. “It’s wonderful to meet you both. Now who I am helping today?” She’s still beaming.

“Maxima.” Remington places his hand on the small of my back and gently pushes me toward Sharon.

“Wait, what?” Confusion pulses through me. Who is this woman? I don’t know who she is.

“She’ll need a whole new wardrobe. My magnificent fiancée has lost a lot of weight, and she needs to show off her amazing body.”

My mouth falls open, but no words come out. Why would he tell a stranger about my weight loss?

Remington looks over at me. “Sharon’s a personal shopper and stylist.” He smiles and answers my unasked question. “Arabella and I will wait by the dressing room.” He takes his daughter’s hand. “Oh, Sharon, my future wife has a high profile job as well. She’ll need some power suits.” He winks at me before leaving me with the blonde.

“Ms. Keck?”

I turn back to her. “I’m sorry, pardon?”

“I asked if you’re ready. We can start over here.” She’s still smiling.

“Um…sure…yes.” I follow her to the first rack of clothes.

She’s talking fast, pulling things up to show me, but I’m not sure what to say. I’ve never been in this kind of situation.

“What are some colors you like?”

“Black and gray.”

Her smile falters a bit. “Well,” she pauses, and then her smile makes an appearance again. “Let’s try some new colors and see what you like.”

I suddenly feel like a fool right now. I wish Harlow were here. She knows a lot about fashion, and I have no clue what I’m doing.

“A size ten?” She looks me up and down.

I shake my head. “I’m more of a fourteen.”

“No, I’m sorry. I’ve been doing this a long time. I know sizes, and you’re a ten hiding in size fourteen clothes.”

“I don’t like tight clothing; I have fat rolls,” I lean in and whisper. Not like she can’t see how fat I am.

“I promise you’ll look fabulous. Let’s just try a few things.” She gathers several items, and I reluctantly follow her. Remington and Arabella are sitting in a chair together playing on his phone. He looks up and smiles.

I’m not sure what to do. I don’t feel like smiling since this feels like an ambush. Remington has made a few comments about my clothes or outfits being too large, but his comments from the other night are ringing in my head.

Although, I’m mad right now…well…embarrassed too. This skinny thing is trying to tell me I’m a size ten. I know there’s no way.

Sharon opens the dressing room door. “Just step in, and when you’re done, I’ll hand you the next one or we’ll grab a different color or whatever you need.”

She sounds so bubbly; I quickly wonder how many espressos she has had today. I simply nod and take the first outfit from her.

When she shuts the door to the room, I take a deep breath. This is insane. I’ll just try one outfit and call it quits. I remove my clothes, but I don’t dare look in the mirror. The stretch marks and hanging saggy skin all makes me want to puke. It’s why I’ve never owned a full-length mirror.

I pick up the pink blouse and look at the tag. Size large. What a joke! There’s no way this tiny piece of material is going to cover all this fat.

I close my eyes and pray the blouse doesn’t rip as I try to get it on. I slide one arm in and then the other.

Okay. So far so good.

I began to button the blouse and hope I don’t have an unsightly gap at my disgusting breasts. But, for some reason, it seems to fit right on my body.

Must be a fluke.

I pull the black slacks off the hanger and check the tag. Size ten. Another joke. I push one leg in and then the other. My knees are weak as I easily button them.

What the hell?

I know I’ve been working out more, but a size ten? I slowly lift my eyes to the full-length mirror, and instantly, I panic. I don’t look too horrible. Well, not as horrible as I normally do.

“Ms. Keck, how’s it going?” Sharon asks from the other side of the door.

“Fine,” I call out. I turn to the left and right, checking myself out.

My breath is taken away. I close my eyes and take three deep breaths the way Caryn taught me. With each breath, I’m supposed to think of three good things about myself. Most of the time, nothing comes to mind. Actually, nothing ever comes to mine.

With my last breath, I open the door to Sharon’s blonde, skinny self standing there.

“See, I said a size ten,” she states with pride. “Anything you don’t like?”

“Um…no…” I quietly answer.

“Great. Here are several more outfits, jeans, and two suits. Just come out with each and I’ll make sure to adjust anything you need.”

I take the large stack of hangers and shuffle back into the dressing room. Each outfit, each change of clothes, I step out for Sharon to inspect. On my last outfit, she hands me a bunch of lingerie. Corset, baby-doll nighties, garter belts, lacy bras, all in my hands.

“I don’t need this.” I try to hand it back to her.

“Trust me.” She pushed it back toward me. “Just try.”

I nod, but already know I’ll be faking it and handing every stich right back to her. I go ahead and begin to sort which two outfits I’ll be taking. I can’t have them all, it’s too expensive. However, my eyes keep drifting to the pale blue baby doll on top of the pile.

My mind doesn’t have any control, and my hands pick it up and hold it against me. I wonder what Remington would think of me in this. I slip it over my head and inspect myself in the mirror.