that she thought she did.
“Do you want to tell me a little more about it?” he asked. He wasn’t the sort of person that anyone normally went to with their problems, but maybe he could help Bridget? After all, food was his specialty.
Bridget looked at him and Paul felt his heart hurt . She looked so sad and so beautiful.
“I don’t even remember how it started, not exactly. I’d always been big…bigger than my friends. When my mother started telling me that I was fat and-”
“Your mother told you that you were fat?” Paul asked in disbelief.
“She put me on a diet,” Bridget answered. “I hated how she monitored everything that I ate. I stopped eating when she was watching me. I would just pick at a salad or move things around my plate until everyone else was finished. I was never full, but being hungry sort of felt good,” she continued, to Paul’s mounting disbelief. “Eventually I would lose control and binge,” she said, her voice full of self-loathing.
“Sweetheart, if you were trying to live on lettuce leaves it’s not surprising that your body found a way to rebel.”
“No one else has ever thought that,” Bridget said, her voice wobbling. “Richard used to lock the fridge!”
“Richard?” Jealousy and anger flared to life in the center of Paul’s chest. “Who’s Richard?”
“My ex-fiancé,” Bridget whispered. She looked like she might cry again. “He thought I was fat and disgusting. In the end he was ashamed to even be seen with me.”
Paul wanted to kill Richard.
“ You should have been ashamed to be seen with s uch a jerk! ” Paul’s retort was so vehement that it actually drew a tiny giggle from Bridget. Paul lifted his hand to her face, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You shouldn’t have listened to them. I think you’re beautiful and perfect just the way you are…And do you know what else I think?”
Bridget shook her head.
“I think you need to start treating yourself better, because you deserve better, and you’re going to have to start believing that soon because I’m not going to let you kill yourself on-” he picked up a packet “-Fritos and… chocolate Hobnobs!”
“Chocolate Hobnobs are actually-”
“A thing of the past,” Paul said firmly. He looked again at the ingredients listed on the wrapper. “I could definitely whip up something superior!”
Bridget smiled tremulously. “You can improve on chocolate Hobnobs? Now that I would love to see!”
“Is that a challenge?” Paul asked, arching his brow comically. Bridget started giggling at the look.
The sound was a little bit manic, but Paul forgave her the lapse of decorum. He felt so good that he’d been able to help. Bridget had been absolutely flattened when he first found her. Now she was smiling through her drying tears.
“Thank you…” she said shyly, and started to turn away. Paul caught her cheek. He cupped it tenderly, and stroked away a lingering teardrop with the pad of his thumb. Then, because he felt he’d earned it, he gave her another kiss.
Maybe she was right about the Hobnobs. Paul could still taste the cookies on her tongue when she timidly slid it between his lips. It was an intriguing blend of salty and sweet that tempted him to kiss her deeper.
Not yet… a voice whispered deep inside, and he decided to heed it. Life and experience had taught him that the most delectable experiences were seldom rushed.
He released Bridget slowly. He settled back onto his stool, taking the time to admire her flushed cheeks and tousled hair.
He didn’t know what to say. Bridget seemed to be in the same predicament. She kept peeking up at him , catching his eyes and then quickly looking away. The tense silence stretched on, until she reached to take a sip of the tea that she’d been drinking and acciden tally tipped her bag of Fritos o nto the floor.
“Oh, God! ” Bridget exclaimed. She scrambled
“Do you want to tell me a little more about it?” he asked. He wasn’t the sort of person that anyone normally went to with their problems, but maybe he could help Bridget? After all, food was his specialty.
Bridget looked at him and Paul felt his heart hurt . She looked so sad and so beautiful.
“I don’t even remember how it started, not exactly. I’d always been big…bigger than my friends. When my mother started telling me that I was fat and-”
“Your mother told you that you were fat?” Paul asked in disbelief.
“She put me on a diet,” Bridget answered. “I hated how she monitored everything that I ate. I stopped eating when she was watching me. I would just pick at a salad or move things around my plate until everyone else was finished. I was never full, but being hungry sort of felt good,” she continued, to Paul’s mounting disbelief. “Eventually I would lose control and binge,” she said, her voice full of self-loathing.
“Sweetheart, if you were trying to live on lettuce leaves it’s not surprising that your body found a way to rebel.”
“No one else has ever thought that,” Bridget said, her voice wobbling. “Richard used to lock the fridge!”
“Richard?” Jealousy and anger flared to life in the center of Paul’s chest. “Who’s Richard?”
“My ex-fiancé,” Bridget whispered. She looked like she might cry again. “He thought I was fat and disgusting. In the end he was ashamed to even be seen with me.”
Paul wanted to kill Richard.
“ You should have been ashamed to be seen with s uch a jerk! ” Paul’s retort was so vehement that it actually drew a tiny giggle from Bridget. Paul lifted his hand to her face, and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You shouldn’t have listened to them. I think you’re beautiful and perfect just the way you are…And do you know what else I think?”
Bridget shook her head.
“I think you need to start treating yourself better, because you deserve better, and you’re going to have to start believing that soon because I’m not going to let you kill yourself on-” he picked up a packet “-Fritos and… chocolate Hobnobs!”
“Chocolate Hobnobs are actually-”
“A thing of the past,” Paul said firmly. He looked again at the ingredients listed on the wrapper. “I could definitely whip up something superior!”
Bridget smiled tremulously. “You can improve on chocolate Hobnobs? Now that I would love to see!”
“Is that a challenge?” Paul asked, arching his brow comically. Bridget started giggling at the look.
The sound was a little bit manic, but Paul forgave her the lapse of decorum. He felt so good that he’d been able to help. Bridget had been absolutely flattened when he first found her. Now she was smiling through her drying tears.
“Thank you…” she said shyly, and started to turn away. Paul caught her cheek. He cupped it tenderly, and stroked away a lingering teardrop with the pad of his thumb. Then, because he felt he’d earned it, he gave her another kiss.
Maybe she was right about the Hobnobs. Paul could still taste the cookies on her tongue when she timidly slid it between his lips. It was an intriguing blend of salty and sweet that tempted him to kiss her deeper.
Not yet… a voice whispered deep inside, and he decided to heed it. Life and experience had taught him that the most delectable experiences were seldom rushed.
He released Bridget slowly. He settled back onto his stool, taking the time to admire her flushed cheeks and tousled hair.
He didn’t know what to say. Bridget seemed to be in the same predicament. She kept peeking up at him , catching his eyes and then quickly looking away. The tense silence stretched on, until she reached to take a sip of the tea that she’d been drinking and acciden tally tipped her bag of Fritos o nto the floor.
“Oh, God! ” Bridget exclaimed. She scrambled
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