Hungry for More (2012) (21 page)

Bridget took out the carton and gave herself a tiny serving. Then she had another…and another…and then the rest. She ate until it was gone, and then decided, since she was being a glutton, she might as well have the other boxes too. She crammed every bite into her mouth, along with a sleeve of biscuits that she still had hidden in a cabinet beneath the stove. She ate until her stomach was aching and she felt like she was going to throw up. Only then did she stagger back to her room.

She looked at her reflection again, this time noticing how her stomach was protruding. Was it any wonder that Paul thought that she was so expendable? He’d be ashamed to have a real relationship with her. Even
Richard
had been embarrassed to be seen in her company. Paul was a famous chef! How much more ridiculous would he look squiring her around as he had in her dreams?

Bridget began to cry as she felt her heart breaking all over again. She simply wanted to be loved. She’d settle for being
tolerated
if it meant that she didn’t have to be alone. Was that so much to ask?

She crumpled into a ball on the floor, revolted all over again by the way that her stomach made it hard to wrap her hands around her knees, hating the softness of her body- hating
everything
about herself. Once again she’d been judged and found wanting. If only she were prettier, smarter,
thinner
- Paul would have loved her then! At least, he wouldn’t have treated her like this.

Thoroughly miserable, Bridget slinked away to bed and cried herself to sleep. Mercifully, this night was easier than the one before. When she woke up, she felt calmer- and finally had a plan.

If Paul couldn’t love her the way she was- if no one could- she was simply going to have to change!

“Oui…oui…je comprends…”

Paul nodded absently at the other men sitting at the table wi
th him at a deserted restaurant
in the
H
uitième
A
rrondisement in Paris.

It was almost five weeks since he had left New York. Things were finally falling into place. Paul felt like he’d circled the globe, calling in favors and pressing palms, trying to sort out his next move, but he was finally making progress. The men that he was meeting with were Middle Eastern investors that he had been referred to by a friend. They had a slew of vanity
cafes
in France, and were looking to expand their holdings to New York- but they wanted to invest their money and not their time. Paul was spine-tinglingly close to getting them to agree to a 100 percent financing deal that would leave him with 51
percent
control. His stake would come from his agreement to cook and manage the place. They would provide the money.

Paul looked up when one of the men said something in excited Arabic. Their French mediator paused before he was able to translate.

“
Ils-pensents que…
” he began out of habit, before slipping back into fractured English, “They want to think it over for a couple of days.”

Paul struggled to contain a sigh, but nodded. They hadn’t said “no
.
” It was a very good start.

Paul thanked the men and then stepped back outside, squinting into the sun. It wasn’t quite eleven. He had a whole day to spend in Paris- too bad he was all alone.

He stopped for a moment to think of Bridget. She would surely love it here. He could picture her standing on the picturesque bridges, or poking he
r
head into the little patisseries and shops. He wondered if he could ta
ke her into one of the lingerie
stores.

Paul squelched that thought quickly with a reminder that Bridget was off limits now.
She hadn’t tried to call him since he had left, and he had not contacted her
except to leave messages on her machine (cowardly placed at times when he knew that they’d most likely be gone) and to wire money from his rapidly-dwindling bank account to pay her salary and the bills at the house.

He missed her more than he was willing to say. She hadn’t been in his life long- at least, not as his girlfriend. It was strange that he missed her so much. Paul wondered about it. He worried that he might have fallen in love.

Well, you can just fall out of it!
H
e thought, scowling as he headed back to the hotel. A small voice in his head begged him to call and try to work things out.
He had intended to speak with
Bridget
before he ever left New York, but
after their argument,
he got a phone call from one of his friends tipping him off t
o the possible opening in Paris. In his
race to make the first flight to France
the next
morning, he put
his apology
on the back burner for a little while.
Paul
was busy as soon as his feet hit the ground in Europe. That night, he was too tired to call. The next morning, it was too early. For the entire first week after his departure, something had prevented him from calling
Bridget to make amends
. After that, it seemed too late- and then, he wondered why Bridget never
reached out to
him
.
Through time and distance, it became harder to ignore his doubts and fears about their relationship.
As
many times as he had run the conversation through his mind, it still didn’t make any sense- but he was too proud to obey.
He couldn’t risk discovering that he was actually right about Bridget and that she really
was
like Phoebe.
He had to get a restaurant again. If he was head chef of a hot eatery, Bridget
would
definitely
take him back
. At least, that was his current hope.

Paul didn’t stop to think why he would
want
a woman who was so fickle. He only conceded that he did.
He h
ad to
get her out of his head- or
win her back. He couldn’t live with anything in between.

Chapter 18

“
…Bridget? Tad? It’s Paul…I’m calling from the airport. I should be home sometime tonight…”

Bridget set down the water bottle that she was drinking out of and stared at the answering machine, barely believing what she’d just heard.

Paul had been gone for over a month- and he was simply going to show up now?

She listened to the message again, unable to believe that she’d heard it right, but she had. Still, she shook her head in amazement. Tad was going to be so happy, but she hadn’t quite worked out how
she
was going to feel.

Bridget drank the rest of her water. She was tired after her run, but also proud. She’d just worked her way up to a mile and a half. It nearly
killed
her, but she’d managed. A step on the scale that morning showed that she’d lost nearly twenty pounds since Paul went away. She wondered what he was going to think.

It was two days after Paul left when Bridget decided to take action. Disgusted by her binge, and tired of being the “fat girl with the pretty face” who always got left behind, she decided that she’d had enough. There was a drop-in daycare at the co-op. Tad had never been there before, but she enrolled him and vowed to attempt some walking every day. She started with a brisk stroll around the block (which left her winded), but increased a little more each time. She also dragged Tad to Barnes & Noble. She got him a pair of Dr. Seuss books and a diet manual for herself.

Making the changes weren’t easy. It was torture throwing out her entire supply of Galaxy chocolate, but she promised herself that it would be worth it. Surprisingly, it was. She felt proud when she was able to circle the block at a brisk walk without losing her breath, and prouder still when she managed
two
. It became a little easier to push the chocolate biscuits away before bed after she had eaten a sensible dinner with Tad. She stopped worrying as much about what people must think as they saw her stretch-pants
-
covered body bobbing down the street.

Despite the positive changes and the knowledge that she
ought
to be making them for herself, Bridget couldn
’
t deny that the factor driving her forward the hardest of all was thinking about
the look on Paul’s face when he finally got home and saw what she had done. She wanted him to know what he’d missed. She only hoped that he made it back before she left on her date.

Bridget smiled smugly when she thought of the plans she had that evening. She and Tad had popped into the neighborhood Starbucks one afternoon to get a cup of tea and wait out a sudden burst of rain. They weren’t the only ones with that idea, and the café was packed. They ended up sharing the table with a young architect who had been charmed by Tad- and smitten with Bridget when he learned that she was the nanny and not the mom. He was cute
, w
ith sandy blonde hair
, a kind smile
and fashionable glasses. He lived in Brooklyn, but was working on a building nearby. He invited her for pizza (which she didn’t eat any
more) and a movie which
sounded like a lot of fun. In any event, it was her first date in the last four years!

Unless you counted Paul…

The traitorous little thought drifted through her mind, but she shoved it away. She was trying to get over her tryst with her employer, but her mind still refused to cooperate!

Bridget went to the daycare to get Tad, and brought him
home
(she felt guilty- but it was only one time!) and then went into her room to get dressed.

It was a good thing that Paul was still paying her. Losing weight had forced her to buy all new clothes. At 5’5” she was hardly a giant. Twenty pounds had changed a lot! She had gone from a size 18 to a
tight 14
. She wasn’t skinny by any stretch of the imagination, but she was on her way. Bridget was determined to be a 2- or even a zero- before she was through!

She admired herself in the mirror for a moment, noting with pride how tiny her waist looked, and how her bottom (still too big in her opinion) was now at least demonstrating a little bit of perk. Her breasts hadn’t shrunk at all. Proportionally, the C-cup looked alluringly full on her smaller frame.

Bridget slipped into a bra and some sexy panties that she’d spent way too much on and then tugged on a brand new dress. It was
a
deep claret-colored jersey with a plunging neckline that hugged her figure on top, and ended in a flared skirt that brushed the top of her knees. She added a pair of tights and some knee-high boots (they zipped!) and then turned her attention to her makeup and hair. She was just spritzing on some perfume when the doorbell rang. She swore underneath her breath.

He was early.

“Tad, honey, get your things!” she instructed as she walked toward the door. She caught a final glance of her reflection before she flung it open, prepared to scold her suitor for being a half-hour too prompt. “You’re-!” she began- but the words didn’t make it out of her mouth. “Paul!” she gasped.

He blinked.

“
Bridget?”

“Mr. Devoe,” she nodded, remembering to inject the right amount of coldness into her voice. 

She schooled her expression from surprise into disinterest, but she couldn’t quite seem to stop her heart from racing, or her eyes from drinking in the sight of her employer.  He looked tired, and thinner than when she had seen him last.  He was still breathtakingly handsome to Bridget’s mind, but he seemed completely worn out.  She couldn’t stop herself from feeling a smidgen of concern.

“Bridget…”
H
e croaked her name again, seemingly stuck on the one word as his eyes raked over her new figure.

Bridget couldn’t quite contain a smug smile.  This was what she had been waiting for- Paul’s reaction to her transformation.  She wanted to shock him, to make him aware of exactly what he was missing, but she hadn’t dared to hope that she would render him
speechless
.

“I think we have established who I am,” she said tartly.  It was possibly a miscalculation on her part; Paul’s eyes flew back to her face. 

“What have you
done
to yourself?” he blurted, which was a question that had never featured in any of Bridget’s revenge fantasies.

“I beg your pardon!” she hissed in outrage.

“Have you been sick?” he frowned.

“Are you
trying
to be insulting?” Bridget choked.  She could feel tears pricking at the backs of her eyes, but she absolutely refused to cry again because of this man!

“No!  Of course not, Bridge, I’m just-”

“DADDY!”

Tad’s elated cry interrupted his father’s words.  The boy had finally responded to Bridget’s earlier instruction to come and get ready.

“Daddy, you’re home!” he said excitedly, demanding to be picked up.