Page 37 of Bailey Bangs Her Brother's Best Friend
She won’t look at me.She wipes her eyes, and I stand and grab a tissue box from the bathroom, giving her time to blow her nose and clean her face.
Bailey frowns down at a crumpled tissue in her hand.
“Want to tell me what’s going on in there?”I ask.
Bailey releases a shaky laugh.“I just hate—” Her voice cracks.“I hate how I look at these photos and all I can see are my flaws.”
“What flaws?”I ask gently, because I genuinely don’t know what she’s talking about.
“My stomach.My thighs.The way my arm looks in that one shot.”She’s ticking them off like evidence.“The cellulite on my ass.The stretch marks.The—” Her voice breaks.“I know I’m not skinny.I know it’s superficial to want to be beautiful.But I can’t—I can’t look at these and see what you see.”
My heart breaks.Because I see gorgeous curves and soft skin and a woman who trusted me enough to be vulnerable.And she sees a list of supposed imperfections that some asshole like Ben Hartly probably drilled into her head years ago.
“Bailey...”I chide gently.
She hiccups.“This was a bad idea.My expectations were too high.I’m sorry I wasted your time.”
“Bailey,” I say, more forcefully.“You did not waste my time.I loved—loved—taking these photos.I’ve seen so much of you, and I don’t just mean the naked kind.”
She gives a weak laugh.
“You have always been gorgeous,” I tell her, hoping she can hear in my voice how much I mean it.
“Thank you,” she says, but it comes out like an automatic response and I can tell I haven’t changed her mind.Of course I haven’t.Bailey’s viewing herself through a different lens than I am—her own lens, and one shaped by society, and it tells her she’s lacking.
“Have you considered talking to someone about this?A therapist?”
“Ha,” she says into her tissue.“No, I haven’t.But Hunter’s brought it up before.But it’s not like I have an eating disorder, or?—”
“Stop right there.There’s no sense in comparing yourself to someone else.You’re here, successful and stunning and clearly upset.You deserve happiness.”
Bailey wipes under her eyes, and I wonder how much prodding it’ll take to get her to see someone.Will she get tired of me suggesting it?Will it become a source of tension for us?
“I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship, Silas.I thought I was, but...”
I gently push Bailey’s coffee table away and drop to my knees in front of her, resting my arms on either side of her hips.“If you aren’t ready, you aren’t ready.I won’t push you.”
Is that a flicker of disappointment in her eyes?Like part of her wants me to push?Or maybe I’m just seeing what I want to see.
Either way, I’m not giving up.Not on her.Not on us.
“Bailey, you’re building a wall to protect yourself.I get it.But what if you built a foundation instead?Give yourself something to stand on, something that gives you strength from within?No one but you can provide the boulders and big heaps of rock you need to do that.But whether you’re in a relationship with me or not, whether you want to call this ‘getting it out of our systems’ or something more—I will help you build that foundation.I’ll drop little pebbles at your feet every day to help you shore it up until you see yourself like I do.”
Her eyes are watery again, but she’s smiling.“That sounds nice.”
I raise my hand, wiping my thumb under her eye to brush away a tear.“It is.That’s what friends and lovers are for.Besides, is anyone ever ready for a relationship?I’m sure as hell not ready to tell Hunter I fucked his sister.”
Bailey laughs.“Maybe don’t phrase it that way.”
“Making love?Canoodling?Doing the horizontal mambo?”
She rolls her eyes and pushes me away with a laugh.I grab her hand and use it to pull her toward me while I get back onto the couch.Bailey leans into my lap, and I catch her with an arm around her waist.“What do you say?We’ll keep doing what we’re doing, you’ll find a therapist, and I’ll spend every day for as long as you’ll let me telling you how beautiful you are.”
Bailey’s quiet for a long moment.I can feel her breathing, feel the weight of her against me, and I wonder if I’ve pushed too hard.Asked for too much.
Then she shifts, burrowing closer into my chest.“You really want to do this?”Her voice is small, uncertain.“Even when I’m a mess?Even when I cry over photos that are supposed to make me feel good about myself?”
“Especially then.”I press a kiss to the top of her head.“Bailey, you think this scares me off?You being real, being vulnerable?That’s the opposite of scary.That’s you trusting me.”
