Curves Envy - Alphas Love Curves: BBW Billionaire Romance (3 page)

I can’t believe I fell for his bullshit. Fuck, Candy, you believed his pilot story without questioning it? What’s wrong with you?

I grab the white towel he used and the matching bathmat and dump them both with the rest of the laundry before pouring an insane quantity of bleach in the machine in an attempt to absolve my sins. I turn the knob to hottest temperature setting and push the start button.

I flip around and face the large mirror. I’m fuming. I take in my red cheeks and my naked body—the same body Vince pleased so well a few minutes ago before I found out I was fucking a married man.
Was everything a lie? I mean I’m a curvy, full-figured woman, while Teresa is a stick figure with a swollen belly. Even pregnant, she’s tiny. Did he also lie about loving my plus-size body?
It’s moments like these where I wonder if I would have made a different choice in life had it not been for the fact I’m always afraid I’m never good enough for a man. 

Do thin women grapple with the types of insecurities that make them do idiotic things and date scumbags?

I fling open the cabinet below the bathroom sink and pull out cleaning products and rubber gloves.
Fuck him.

For the next hour, I desperately disinfect my home, trying my darnedest to erase any memories of Vince and his cheating ways. I scrub so hard I bring myself to a sweat, but I can’t stop, I have to remove any traces of him. After sixty minutes of back-breaking work, I jump under the shower and turn the dial to the left so the water can be as hot as my sad body can sustain.

I need to wash him off of me.

I only allow myself to cry when I rinse out the shampoo from my hair. I cry and cry and cry. I’m not sobbing because of my actions with Vince. Heck, I never would have laid a finger on him had I known he was married. I wail because every man I’ve ever been with has taken advantage of me and left me broken.

For once in my life, I’d love to know how it feels to be with a strong, genuine man who has a backbone.

I step out of the shower heavy-hearted and I wrap my hair in a towel.

I’m not going to survive this day alone. I need an intervention.

I walk out of my bathroom in search of my iPhone. I text my best friend Amelia and tell her to come over with the cavalry as soon as humanly possible. I’m dealing with a code red crisis here and I need help fast. Five minutes later, Devin, Amelia and Lexi text me back to let me know they’re on the way to comfort me.

Thank God for great friends.

I head to my bedroom to jump into baggy sweatpants and a tee shirt I still cling onto from the days when I used to be nearly one hundred pounds heavier. I bunch my hair up at the top of my head and find a butterfly clip to keep it from distracting me. I glance quickly at myself in the mirror and the sadness in my eyes is unmistakable. It’s not as if I was in love with Vince, but he’s taken advantage of me and I can’t help but wonder if he seduced me because he figured as a full-size woman I’m easy, since I’m invisible to men in New York City.

Whatever.

I walk to my kitchen to pull out a few items to prepare a simple late-morning breakfast for my friends—eggs, baked beans, Canadian bacon and toast. I’m not a cook by any means, but over the last year, I’ve had to make some lifestyle changes and I can now find my way around a kitchen. Dramatic circumstances in my life have forced me to be good during the week and watch what I eat. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve not warmed up to skinny-girl foods like kale, beets, oatmeal or celery. God, I hate celery. But I’ve given up my ravenous consumption of junk food and I’ve cut out the gallons of pop I used to enjoy drinking every day. As a reward, I allow myself a few indulgences over the weekends, but when I’m in crisis all bets are off—only pork fat can help me deal with this morning from hell.

I know the rescue routine well. When one of us is dealing with shit, we call on the three others for reinforcement. It’s the supporting crew’s duty to bring the essentials to appease the pain—cupcakes, ice cream from Big Gay Ice Cream and lots of booze.

Chapter 2

At eleven-thirty, I receive a text from Devin to let me know the crew is downstairs in my building and about to hop in an elevator to ride up to my floor. A few minutes later, I hear a knock and I look up from my phone.
They’re finally here.
Devin peeks his head through the door before strolling in first. He’s my emergency person and he always has a spare key to my place.

“Hey, sweetheart, we’re here to the rescue. I dropped by Big Gay Ice Cream in West Village and grabbed everything we needed to create our own sinful heartbreak medicine,” he says, approaching me holding up two big bags of frozen treats. “Let me put these away before they melt.” He leans down to kiss both cheeks. “How are you holding up?”

“Not very well,” I confess.

Devin Sinclair has become a fast friend in a very short period of time. I met him at a trendy coffee shop in Greenwich Village during the opening week a few years ago when I was at my heaviest. I had stopped by to witness all the buzz surrounding this new place and to order a tall coffee drink with an unpronounceable name laced with sugary syrup and fatty whipped cream. Unfortunately for me, a few disgruntled patrons had made it clear with their snarky remarks, side glances and demeaning chuckles they didn’t approve of a person my size invading their space.

Devin was standing at the back of the line, but he quickly came to my rescue by shutting up the bullies. To console me, he took me to another cute coffee shop in the same neighborhood and before we knew it two hours had passed. Devin knows too well the pain of being teased by small-minded people and he also knows what it feels like to be ostracized. He grew up in small-town Perrysburg in Ohio and he’s known with certainty he was gay since the age of eight. He’s lived a life in the closet until he got outed by a football jock who was unwilling to admit to his own homosexuality when a few team members caught him with his pants down to his knees in front of Devin enjoying a blowjob.

Devin never recovered from the incident and he couldn’t set foot in his high school again without risking being stoned to death. One dark day, he packed all his belongings in a small backpack, broke the jar to his mother’s emergency grocery funds and climbed the stairs of a Greyhound bus to New York.

He was born Wyatt Sheridan, but by the time he landed his first important job in the fashion world, he was known as Devin Sinclair. Today, he’s the lead makeup artist on
The Chat
, aka
The Talk
for a younger audience.

“Darling, don’t you worry, we’re going to take good care of you.”

“Yeah, Devin is right. We’re here now to support you in your moment of need. Honey, in a few hours, you’ll be back to your old self.” My best friend forever, Amelia, walks in right behind Devin and flashes me a devilish grin when she lifts the bags of booze. “We’ve brought everything to make you forget you ever laid eyes on your fake-pilot scumbag.”

Amelia Carrington and I have been inseparable since we met in high school. We’ve shared everything since we were teenagers—growing pains, heartbreak, wins, joys, sadness and yes, men troubles. Since neither of us have siblings, we’ve always seen ourselves as soul sisters to the point where we both pursued Master’s degrees in journalism. In many ways, my friendship with Amelia saved my life after my parents’ tragic accident. We both work in our respective fields. I went into fashion, whereas Amelia became an online content manager at Prime News, one of the biggest cable news companies in the country.

“I can’t wait to hear the full story, but from what Devin and Amelia shared in the car, this guy is a piece of work.” Lexi is the last person to waltz into my place. She’s cladded in her usual nondescript head-to-toe baggy black outfit, but I’m too bummed out to give her a talking-to about style or lack thereof. Not to mention she’s the one carrying the cupcake boxes from Magnolia Bakery and I surely don’t want to get on her bad side. “Candy, I brought your favorite.”

“Seriously? They had truffle-flavored cupcakes?” I ask, excited by the idea of eating my humiliation away.

“Oh, yeah. Look at these sinful treats—I got you both devil’s food cupcakes filled with chocolate truffle and the white chocolate truffle counterparts. They’re calling out your name.” Lexi tempts me by slightly opening up a box to give me a peek of things to come.

“I don’t think I can only eat one.”

“Hun, I brought half a dozen of them.” Lexi has a heart of gold and it’s no wonder Devin considers her like his little sister.

Alexis MacPherson is the smartest person I know. She’s only a few years older than me, but she already holds a Master’s in finance from Simon Business School and a MBA from the Wharton School of the University of Pennsylvania. I mean she’s a freaking brainiac, but she’s also a workaholic. I guess it’s to be expected when you’re one of the top female brokers on Wall Street under thirty, but the girl needs to live a little. Devin has taken Lexi under his wing since they both worked together at a hair salon many years ago and ever since then he’s considered her like the sister he’s never had.

Devin, Amelia and Lexi stand shoulder to shoulder on the other side of my small kitchen island like choir kids waiting for my cue to find out how devastated I am over Vince. I fling my gaze between my three best friends who are all silently pleading with me to say something.

I shrug before speaking. “I was never in love with the asshole, but I had never signed up to become a mistress either.” I bite my lower lip, regretting I ever listened to Dr. Oz in the first place. I should have killed this idea of hunting down veggies. It would have allowed me to stay out of trouble.

“Oh, honey,” my three friends coo in unison as Leonardo DiCaprio makes his presence known by jumping on my island. His entrance surprises us and we all burst out in laughter once we realize my cat is looking to steal the attention from me.

“Group hug,” Devin declares before running towards me followed by Amelia and Lexi.
I’m so happy they’re here.
The trio protectively wrap their arms around me and I allow myself to soak in their love and affection.

“Oh, guys, I don’t know what I’d do with you.”

“Luckily, you’ll never have to find out because none of us are going anywhere anytime soon.” Lexi is always the one to find the right words for the occasion.

After a few minutes of sympathy, my friends unlock their death grip from me and stand side by side again. “Are you guys hungry?” I ask. They all nod with their eyes wide open, excited by the idea of food. “Come on, let’s eat. I’m starved. I have Canadian bacon in the oven. I’ll get some eggs going for all of us. Devin, can you get started on the baked beans?”

“Sure. Hand me the pot over there so I can heat these suckers up.”

“Here you go,” I say, handing him a pot before turning to Amelia. “Lia, can you take care of the toast? I got up early this morning and ran to Loaf Kingdom bakery to buy fresh bread for Vince, but now we’ll be the ones enjoying this scrumptious sourdough bread.”

“Thank God you’re not asking me to cook or even heat up anything. Unless it’s going in the microwave, I’m useless. I totally can handle toasting bread.”

“Lexi, can you grab those plates and set the table?”

“Consider it done,” Lexi chimes in before getting to work.

“Hey, Candy, I’m going to place my iPhone on your dock. I have some new killer chillout music I got from this new hot DJ I’m seeing. You’re going to love it.” Devin doesn’t wait for me to answer—he’s already halfway across the living area by the time I turn around. Once he presses play, my whole apartment is filled with the same sexy vibe you’d expect to hear at some of the best underground clubs in the city. “You like?” Devin turns around with a look that says it all.

“It’s amazing. It’s edgy and old-school at the same time.” Lexi is wiggling her body as she places dishes on the table.
What a shame to hide such a fit and athletic physique under such unflattering fashion
. Devin and Lexi are the music aficionados in the group. I enjoy music, but Lexi must have two thousand tracks in her collection.

Within a few minutes my rescue crew and I are working like busy bees in my kitchen, bobbing our heads to the sultry tunes blaring from my speakers, and for a moment I allow myself to forget about my eventful morning.

Who cares about Vince, Teresa and their babies?

It takes no time to prepare the breakfast and even less time to devour all the food like famished beasts. We all cram around my small dining table finishing up our meals while savoring a strong cup of coffee. I recount the whole sordid story that caused Leonardo DiCaprio to run for cover. Even though I lived through the whole ordeal a few hours ago, it still seems so surreal.

“Men like Vince should be sent to prison for lying to so many people purely for sexual pleasure.” Amelia utters those words while looking up from her cup of coffee. She has a serious issue with trust, but who can blame her? Her dad dumped her mom before she was even born.

“Yeah, but Teresa kept taking him back. This is the third time he’s done this to her. She claims she’ll divorce him, but will she really go that far?”

“I guess you’re right. I don’t understand why she’d take back a scumbag so he can keep cheating on her again. I hope she has the courage to go all the way and kick the fake pilot to the curb where he belongs.”

“So how did you deal with all this after the cat came out of the bag?” Devin asks the question while grabbing my hand for comfort. “Pardon, Leonardo DiCaprio, for the pun,” he adds when my cat jumps in his lap.

“Once I got rid of the batshit crazy couple, I performed an exorcism in my home and bleached the place from top to bottom.”

“Oh,” my three friends let out in unison, horrified.

“Calm down. I’ve been good. I didn’t go completely nuts.” I’ve replaced the need to manage my emotions with copious amounts of calorie-rich foods with manic cleaning when life throws me a curve ball. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still not opposed to polishing off a tub of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream in one sitting, but I promised my grandmother on her death I’d take better care of myself and I wouldn’t continue to allow the sudden death of my parents to eat at me. “I needed to wash Vince out of my life. The embarrassment of knowing I had become someone’s mistress was too much to handle on a Saturday morning—I needed cleaning therapy to calm my nerves.”