Page 69 of By His Vow

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demand.

“He won’t want anyone seeing you in that.”

“You will,” I point out.

“Babe, I’ve seen you in way less many, many times. I don’t think it’s me he’d be worried about.”

I shake my head and drop the offending swimsuit onto the bed before returning to the box.

“That’s it,” I say. “This massive box, for that.” I point at the scrap of fabric.

Lori shrugs.

“Put it on then. We’ve got nothing but pure relaxation waiting for us downstairs.”

I want to argue. To tell Kingston where to go and cut this stupid swimsuit up into tiny bits and mail it back to him. But then I see the excitement in my best friend’s eyes and I swallow it down.

I’m not the only one who needs this.

I’m not the only one with issues right now. She needs to take a step away from life and just be for a few hours. Maybe it’ll help her figure her shit out. It sure isn’t going to fix any of mine.

Muttering my unhappiness over this whole situation, I snatch the swimsuit from the bed and stomp through to the bathroom.

To my astonishment, when I inspect it closer, I find that it’s actually my size.

That bit of knowledge raises just one too many questions about how well my soon-to-be husband knows me.

Ignoring everything, I pull the fabric on, astounded to realize that for such a small thing, it holds the girls up pretty well.

But while I might be happy with that, the ass is an entirely different situation.

Twisting around in the mirror, I stare at my practically bare behind.

I’m fairly body confident. I mean, I’m no size zero. I have curves and some cellulite in all the normal places. I try and take care of myself and ensure that my curves are as toned as they can be. But standing in only this tiny swimsuit pushes me right to the edge of my comfort zone.

If I didn’t know that the spa was going to be empty, I’d be questioning my life right now.

“I’m going to make you pay for this, Kingston Callahan,” I promise before re-twisting my hair up into a messy bun, splashing my face with water and pulling the door open.

“Oh holy hell, Tate,” Lori says, her eyes widening as she takes in my outfit—or lack thereof.

“The fuck are you doing?” I shriek when she holds her cell up like she’s taking a photo. ‘No. Delete that right now.”

“Oh, whoops,” she says with what I’m sure she’s hoping is an innocent smile.

“What do you mean, ‘whoops?’”

Snatching her cell from her hand, I stare down at the screen to see a photo of myself in a message chat with… Kingston.

And he’s already read it.

“I hope you suffocate in the sauna,” I hiss, thrusting it back at her as the dots bounce with his reply.

I don’t want to know what he has to say to that.

I don’t.

I don’t.