I’m in shock as people start following her instructions. Surely there has to be someone offended here, but no one says anything. People are cheering, clapping loudly as more and more women remove their shirts and bras. When I look at Jaylin, she’s topless, standing proudly.
Tears burn in my eyes at her beauty, her strength.
I want that.
“Aviva. Do it,” Callie urges.
I want to.
What in the world am I doing?
“I love this body,” Lacey says, tears in her eyes. “And I’m proud of it. Say it with me.”
I don’t say it at first. I don’t utter a word; I just listen to the many women around me who are saying it. When Callie threads her fingers through mine, I look over at her, and she’s saying the words. My heart cracks in my chest, and I ask myself, How can I hate this body when Callie’s is going to mirror mine soon? I can’t have her doing what I am. I am alive. I am loved, and damn it, I am happy.
So, at the top of my lungs as I pull off my shirt, I yell the words until tears stream down my face and I believe them.
I love this body, and I am proud of it.
* * *
“Nico, it was absolutely phenomenal.”
I’m basically bouncing, and I can hear the excitement in his voice when he replies.
“Baby, that’s awesome.”
“She is so uplifting. We all took our shirts off—”
“You were topless? Hot.”
“Nico, focus!” I laugh as I stand inside the café, waiting for Jaylin and Callie to get a snack. “We’re topless, all these women with their scars, and we’re all pledging to love our bodies. It was amazing. Perfect, even. I have never experienced something like that, and then I’m yelling so loudly that I know Lacey heard me. She pointed right to me and even yelled ‘Yes!’ Because I have to believe it, Nico. I can’t let Callie grow up hating herself. It’s pointless, especially when she is so loved.”
He sighs softly. “That’s right, Aviva. Man, you don’t know how happy I am to hear you say that. I am pumped you had a good time.”
“Great time! I bought her book and her journal, and I’m really going to work on this. I don’t want to hate myself. I want to love myself.”
“Good, because I love you, Aviva. I love you so much, and I’m so proud of you.”
My heart hurts from how swollen it is with love. I’m so inspired. I let out a long sigh. “I love you more, Nico. You really have changed so much for me.”
I wait for the cocky comeback. But instead, he says, “Right back atcha, baby. My therapist said I was a grown-up the other day.”
“Aw, you’re a real man, Pinocchio!”
He laughs. “I love you, baby. Listen, I hate to let you go, but I have to hit the ice. Be careful going home, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Me either.”
We say goodbye, and as I hang up the phone, I see Jaylin walking toward me with Callie. A weird look is on her face as she holds her phone in her hand. I raise my brows as she stops in front of me.
“That was my informant.”
Like a rock, I fall from my happiness cloud of rainbows. “Oh?”
“I know who Florence Tremblay is.”
I bring in my brows. “Who?”
“Florence Myra Tremblay kept her maiden name when she married Marco Merryweather,” she says.
I scrunch up my face, but then it clicks.
My heart stops, and everything goes cold as she says, “She won’t speak to me. Told me to talk to Nico.”
I knew that shoe was going to fall—I felt it in my soul—but I never expected it would be because Nico lied to me.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Nico
When I get off the plane, I turn on my phone, and it starts vibrating and beeping like crazy. Sixteen voice mails and thirty-three texts. I raise my brows as I click on the texts. It only takes one of them to know I’m in deep shit.
Callie: Aviva knows, and she is on a rampage. Take cover.
Jaylin: Dude, really? She’s going to kill you dead.
Mom: The lawyer found out, called me, and I told her to contact you. I told you that you should have been honest from the beginning.
I exhale heavily as I hit my mom’s name. I probably should call Aviva first, but I’m not stupid. I need to know what is going on. Once I’m in the truck, I start it as she answers.
“Oh, Nicolas, she’s pissed.”
“What happened?”
“She called and demanded I let her pay me back.”
“What did you say?”
“I told her it was all you.”
“Really, Mom?” I ask, dropping my head to the steering wheel. “I thought we decided that it was you with my money.”
She scoffs. “She was pissed, and I’m sorry, but she’s scary. Plus, I think you need to own up to this. I didn’t know she would be so upset. Usually women love when men do things for them.”