Page 28 of Blissful Masquerade

Fifteen minutes later, Oliver and I head to the back of the store, ignoring the blushing woman behind the checkout counter. Thankfully, no one else is here, so we have free rein of the place.

Elliot gives me a questioning look as Oliver brings everything into one of the dressing rooms. With a thumbs up, I head inside and shoo Oliver out.

It doesn’t take long for me to pull on the first set, a tiny light blue thong and a matching bra that pushes my boobs up. But when I turn to look at myself in the mirror, my stomach turns.

Over the years, I’ve done a lot of work to come to appreciate and love my body. But a lot of that was trashed by the hateful comments Adam would make whenever I dared to show my body when I was bloated or after I ate.

I clench my fists. Food in your stomach is normal, Wren. You’re human. And humans fucking eat.

But Adam’s comments fill my mind, and tears fill my eyes.

They won’t say those kinds of things to you.

They’re different.

...But what if they’re not?

“Wren?” Oliver’s voice comes from the other side of the curtains, soft and concerned, and I realize I’m sniffling. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah.” But I can’t even say a single word without my voice breaking.

The curtains open, and Oliver steps inside before shutting them again. He frowns at my tears, and then at my arms hiding my stomach.

For a second, he looks angry. But then he takes a deep breath and tugs me closer to him. “Tell me what’s going through your mind right now.”

I shake my head, looking anywhere but him.

“Are you insecure? Did I get you the wrong size in something?”

I inhale a shuddering breath as more tears fall onto my cheeks. But I just can’t make myself say it. It’s too much, too intimate for a man I can’t let myself get attached to.

For a moment, I wish he’d tell me he doesn’t like my body, just so I can get out of this weekend. That way, my heart isn’t at risk of getting trampled over at all.

“Stab in the dark,” he says lowly, his fingers tracing over my arms that are still locked over my stomach. “You’re insecure about how you look?”

With a sigh that I hope says, I hate you for reading me so well, I nod.

He pulls my arms away from my body. “The expectation of women to be stick thin is stupid, and it does more harm than good. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” I mumble.

He kneels, holding my hips in his hands and kissing my stomach. “I like you like this. It means we’re feeding you well. And I obviously like spoiling you.” He grins up at me.

“I don’t think I can do this,” I whisper, wiping at my cheeks.

“You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, princess. Do you want to try everything on without showing us?” He kisses my stomach again, and it takes everything in me not to suck it in. I have a feeling he wouldn’t like that.

I nod.

“Do you still want to spend the weekend with us?”

I hesitate, squeezing my eyes shut so I don’t see the disappointment I just know is written all over his face.

“You can say no, Wren. But we’re still buying you whatever you like from here and sending you home with all your clothes.”

I sniffle, barely holding back a sob, and look at him. “I want to, Oliver. I do. But I’m scared. Really, really scared.”

For a moment, he looks wounded. “That we’ll hurt you?”