Connor’s stuffed kitty catches my eye, and I cart it back down the hall. He never sleeps without it.
They’re still in the bathroom, the quiet lap of water, musical giggles, and soft words drawing me in. I stop short at the crack in the door, both boys covered in bubble hats and bubble beards, Adam’s elbow on his knee, chin propped on his fist like he’s deep in thought. It’s a ridiculous sight, but one that makes me warm from the tips of my ears all the way down to my wiggling toes.
“I was thinking you could help me ask your mama to be my girlfriend,” Adam murmurs to Connor, and my heart stops. “What do you think about that, little trouble? Would it be okay with you if I was Mama’s boyfriend?”
Connor plops a heap of bubbles on top of Adam’s already bubbly head. “Dada, bub-bow!” He pats his head. “Hair.”
Adam reciprocates the gesture, coating Connor’s face in another layer of bubble beard, until it hangs halfway down his chest. “You’re really special to me, buddy, and so is your mama. That’s why I want her to be my girlfriend. Do you think Mama would like that?” With a big sigh, Adam gently drops his forehead to the edge of the tub. “I think so. I hope so. Crap, I don’t know, buddy. What if she says no?”
“I won’t say no,” I blurt, a pair each of excited green eyes and nervous blues coming to me as I push through the door. Dropping to my knees in front of Adam, I take his face in my hands, fingers pushing through layers of bubbles. He looks so ridiculous and adorable, it hurts.
“You are the most beautiful, kind, and thoughtful man on this planet. My heart is already yours. No isn’t an option, Adam.
CHAPTER 16
THAT’S NOT FITTING ANYWHERE
ROSIE
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve wondered why loving ourselves is one of the hardest things we’ll ever do.
Most of the time I find I can do it well. I remind myself of all the amazing things this body has done for me, the gifts it’s given me, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. And then somebody opens their mouth without reason, and they tear your work down in seconds. You stand there in their wake, gripping the love you carry so tightly in your hands, unwilling to let it go. But sometimes the harder you grip it, the easier it is to let it sift through your fingers like sand, falling to your feet.
As I stand in front of the oversized mirror in Adam’s bedroom, my eyes roam the length of my naked body, both the pieces I love every day and the ones I struggle a little extra with some days.
You haven’t been taking very good care of yourself. You’ve gained some weight. It’s been sixteen months. Hit the gym or something.
I close my eyes to words that try so hard to bring shame, hands curling into fists that shake at my stomach as I battle against the temptation to let them win. Because at the end of the day, I know that self-love isn’t being happy with myself, all of me, every single moment. It’s not realistic, and a recipe for failure.
Blowing out a shaky breath, I force my eyes open, force them to drink myself in right here in the mirror.
“I am not somebody else’s opinion of me,” I whisper. “I’m strong. I’m resilient. My heart is big and kind. I’m always learning. I’m the only one of me.” With each word, the tension in my body slowly dissipates, shoulders dropping away from my ears, fingers uncurling as my body drinks in the affirmations like it’s been starved for them, waiting for me to embrace myself, because today, I need a little extra love from me.
Because, I think, self-love is as simple as giving myself grace on the hard days, loving myself extra when I need it.
The bedroom door opens, and I snap the towel off the floor, wrapping it around myself as Adam’s gaze finds me. Heat pools in my cheeks at the way his eyes dim as they rake over me, the curve of his mouth as his long legs eat the distance between us.
“Hi,” I whisper as he comes to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around me, his chin finding a home on my shoulder as he watches me in the mirror.
“Hi, pretty girl.” He chuckles, kissing the heat dotting my cheek. “Connor’s asleep.”
“Thank you so much for doing that. He really loves spending time with you.”
“He makes me feel like I’m doing something right in this life.”
Sizzling fingertips glide up my arms, over my shoulders, before dipping down to my collarbone where I clutch the towel to me. Fire stokes low in my belly, rolling in waves in every direction, the biggest blaze of all settling between my thighs.
I swallow. “You’re doing everything right.”
“Everything?”
I nod, gaze hooked on his reflection as he pries my iron grip from the towel. The plush gray cloth slowly sweeps open, revealing my body inch by aching inch. For a moment, uncertainty takes control, running through me as I scramble to cover my breasts, the softness of my lower belly, the stretch marks that haven’t entirely faded, a scar that never will.
“I nursed Connor for thirteen months,” I blurt as Adam’s fingers circle my wrists, gently opening me up to him. “So, they’re…they’re…”
“Perfect,” he whispers, his soft touch tracing the shape of my breasts, guiding my eyes back to where his watch me so intently, holding nothing but deep appreciation, utter adoration. “They’re perfect, Rosie. Please don’t ever try to convince yourself any part of you isn’t just right, because to me, it’s everything. You. Are. Everything .”
A single tear peels its way down my cheek. When his lips trap it, I turn into his kiss, sinking against him. “I think I really needed to hear that.”
“Do you need to see it too? Feel it?” He lifts my palm to his mouth, pressing lingering kisses there as his fingertips skate across my belly. “Because I want to give you whatever you need. I want you to know exactly where you stand with me, to see yourself exactly the way I see you. The way my heart races when I’m with you, when I touch you, when I get to just fucking…look at you ? I want you to feel that.”
My gaze tracks Adam’s searing one in the mirror. “How would you do that?”
“How about we start with you putting your eyes on yourself? Looking at every piece of you for exactly what it is, appreciating everything it’s done for you. Seeing it for the beauty it is.”
“It’s not always that easy.”
“No,” he agrees. “It’s not. Not when we’re talking about ourselves.” He takes my chin in his hand, runs his thumb across my lower lip. My tongue darts out, chasing its path. “Let me show you what it’s like for me, looking at you. Every single thought leaves my body, except…wow . How fucking lucky am I? I found you, and somehow, you chose me. I get to keep you.”
“Was there any other option? Choosing you? Because it didn’t feel like a choice; it just felt right.”
“Like it was meant to happen? Me and you? That little boy out there?”
“Like we were lost, and you pulled your truck over to the side of the road and asked if we needed a ride. We climbed in and never left.”
Adam grins against my cheek. “I like that. You were made to ride in my passenger seat.”