As I Breathe (One Breath at a Time: Book 2) by Leilani Bennett Page A

recipe.” Tara beamed as she shoved a cookie into her mouth. “I think you both should have one—or more. You two need to fatten up. After all, men don’t like rail-thin women. You need to have curves, girls.” She wiggled her hips.
    “ Curves ...really?” I grabbed a cookie.
    “ My special cookies will put curves in the right places. Forget surgery,” Tara said convincingly. “Here, you can afford two.” She eyed my bosoms.
    Her generosity could have been mistaken as an insult, but I didn’t care. God knows I needed more curves in the right places.
    “I hope you’re right,” I replied, biting into the second cookie. My mother’s eyes shifted to Tara then back toward me, raising a single brow, donning a skeptical smile. I knew what she was thinking. Nonetheless, I quickly grabbed two more cookies.
    Yes, Mom, I want big boobs.”
    “Both of you are bone thin.” Tara picked up several more cookies and put them in our hands. “Eat, I promise in a few days you will see the difference, they’re good, right?”
    “ Mmm, pretty good,” I mumbled between bites of her magic cookies, hoping I would not live to regret eating them.
    If I had been honest, the cookies were the best I had ever tasted. Beyond delicious. I supposed if I changed my attitude Tara might share her curve-producing recipe with my mom. We walked, talked and ate cookies as she led us up a beautifully polished wooden staircase.
    My parents set me up in my own private room; named, “Queen Ann’s Lace.”
    The second the innkeeper opened the door to my room, my eyes widened, my heart leapt and a wide smile traversed across my face, totally wiping away my bad mood.
    The room was a dream, complete with Victorian ambiance and expressions from another era. The room boasted an attached balcony. It was very romantic. I wanted to hate the accommodations, without much thought my determination to be miserable rose in me.
    “ It’s not what I expected,” I sarcastically announced. See, no filter.
    “ You don’t like the room?” Tara asked me, frowning.
    I muttered rudely, “It’s okay.”
    “Brielle, please.” My mother glared at me. “I’m sorry. She’s having a bad day. It was a long ride down and she was terribly carsick. Don’t worry, she will love the room after she gets out of these crumpled clothes and has a chance to settle in,”—My mother pressed the back of my shirt down—“once she freshens up, all will be fine.” She smiled, excusing my cross behavior to Tara. “Why don’t we leave Brielle here to look around, and you can show me our room next.”
    They backed out of the room and closed the door behind them. I could hear their laughter through the walls.
    My parents stayed in a beautiful room called Memories, although I didn’t know how they were going to make any memories with my little brother sleeping on a rollout bed in their room.
    Looking back, I realized that they had sacrificed any chance for romance on this trip just for my sake. They tried their best to make me like the place and to get me to enjoy the vacation.
    When finally alone, I scanned the room, shrugged and jumped on the bed.
    “ Yes, peace and quiet,” I said out loud. The long drive down really did wear me out.
    I sighed heavily. “Alone,” I moaned to myself, No friends, and stuck here for seven days with my bratty brother and my boring parents. I wondered where Storm had drifted off to. I had no idea. He was probably off on a long sabbatical the minute he heard we were going to St Augustine. Who could blame him? Just like me, I’m sure he didn’t want to be trapped in St. Augustine. More than likely, he was probably at the beach soaking up the sun in someone else’s warm head. Thanks, Voice .
    My eyes fell to the French doors that lead outside. For one long minute, I contemplated throwing myself over the balcony but, luckily, I thought twice about it. It was not a long way down, and with my luck I would break my neck and end up paralyzed,