This isn’t … I had no plans to get married right now. I wasn’t dating, wasn’t looking for a serious relationship. But having a front row seat to my oldest brother’s relationship, and also witnessing Brendan and Lauren working through theirs … well, I thought I’d have something more like that when I got married.
And I know this is business, and I know this was all my idea, but the reality of standing on the beach and promising myself to another person without my brothers standing by my side, without my family witnessing it, without anyone I care about here hit me like a ton of bricks.
But it’s too late. We’re here. We’re doing this. Time to make the best of it.
I gently tip her chin up and place a soft kiss on Alexis’s lips, needing my own sense of connection and grounding to get to the next step.
When I end the kiss, she stares up at me, once again wearing those cerulean contacts. It makes her eyes harder to read, but there’s no disguising the vulnerability in her gaze.
“C’mon,” I whisper. “Let’s go check out our suite.”
She gives me a trembling smile and nods. “Okay.”
Lacing our fingers together, I lead the way to the elevators. We ride up in silence, hand in hand. She doesn’t stiffen or pull away. She just holds my hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
When we get into our suite, dishes covered with stainless steel domes wait for us at the table, and Alexis makes a beeline for it, uncovering them one at a time and exclaiming over the contents. “Chicken and grilled vegetables. Steak. Mashed potatoes. Fruit. And champagne.” She picks up a tented piece of paper and opens it. “Oh, and here’s a note from Delores.” Her nose wrinkles.
“What’s it say?”
Rolling her eyes, she drops the note back on the table. “It says, ‘Don’t forget you’re on a diet.’”
I make a derisive sound and step closer to her, making a show of examining her body. “I had my hands on you less than five minutes ago. Your hip bones are practically poking through your dress. I can say without a shadow of a doubt that you do not need to be on a diet.”
She rolls her eyes again. “How do you think I stay this way, though? It’s not like I can just pig out on anything and everything and not gain weight.”
Plucking a grape out of the bowl of fruit, I pop it into my mouth and shrug. “True.” I look her over again. “But it’s our wedding day. If any day should be a cheat day, shouldn’t it be today?” I have a meal plan and track my calories too, but I’d already planned to splurge today. Staying in shape is important to me, sure, but I also want to enjoy my life.
I look over the table, a frown taking over my face. “Where’s our cake? We got married. Shouldn’t we have cake?”
Alexis laughs. “That’s the diet comment, probably. Delores wants me to lose another five pounds. It’s always five more pounds with her. I’ve lost three in the last two months, but she wants me down five more still.”
That stops me in my tracks, and now my frown is directed at her. “Fuck that.”
Her eyes widen, her eyebrows flying up her head. “I’m sorry, what?”
I cross my arms and lift my chin. “Fuck. That. You do not need to lose weight. If it’s taking you two months of near starvation to lose three pounds, restricting more is only going to cause problems.”
She splutters. “What are you, some kind of nutritionist?”
“No, but I’ve worked with one for almost five years. Jonathan had one for his meal plans and I took advantage of it too. I’m all for counting macros and meal planning and keeping yourself in shape, but starvation diets are not it. And don’t deny it. I’ve seen your kitchen. I know what’s in your fridge. I know how much you’re not eating.” I hold her gaze, unwavering, unwilling to back down on this. I’ve held back before now, but if she’s talking about going on a stricter diet? I can’t keep quiet. She needs nutrition. Energy. Enough calories to support the basic functions of living. I’m not convinced she’s eating above her basal metabolic rate as it is.
Her stance mirrors mine now with the addition of one tiny hipbone cocked to one side, her face a mask of stubborn defiance. “While I appreciate your input, you have no idea what it’s like to be a woman in this industry. So take your self-righteousness and shove it up your ass.”
We stare at each other for several long moments while I consider and discard several responses. Defensiveness won’t help here. It won’t get across the point that I’m actually worried about her health right now and her ability to perform if she’s not eating enough. Calories are literally fuel. Inadequate fuel leads to performers passing out on stage. Or coming close enough to it that it’s a problem.
And while she’s right that I’m not a woman and don’t face the same pressures, I know what my longtime friend and America’s favorite pop star Charlotte James has been through. I’ve heard her talk about the pressure to be as thin as possible. I’ve also heard her talk about how much better she felt when she allowed herself to eat like a normal human and have the body of a normal human. She’s still fit, but she’s no longer skeletal.
Alexis isn’t quite that far, but if she loses five more pounds she will be. Especially since five more pounds is a moving target.
But arguing with her won’t make any difference right now. I uncross my arms and hold up my hands in a gesture of surrender. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t face the same pressures as you.”
The set of her shoulders relaxes, and she stands up a little straighter. “Thank
