Chapter 12 Seraphine
I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole.
Rio stepped forward before Stephen could argue. “I think she looks incredible.”
My breath stuttered.
He said it calmly, genuinely — like it wasn’t a question.
Stephen grinned. “Told you she cleans up nice.”
Carol huffed, brushing invisible lint off her coat. “Well, yeah. If she’s comfortable being stared at.”
I swallowed hard. “Noted.”
Stephen gestured toward the door. “Let’s go in before they give away the reservation.”
Inside, Ember & Ash was even more beautiful — warm lights, dark-red booths, gold cutlery, and a fireplace that made the whole room glow. Elegant. Intimidating.
I felt Carol’s eyes on me the whole walk to the table.
Measuring.
Judging.
Wishing I’d worn one of my sweaters instead of daring to be seen.
As the maître d’ led us to our booth, Carol leaned in close enough for only me to hear.
“You really didn’t have anything… less clingy to wear?”
My chest tightened. “This is what I had.”
She gave a tight, pitying smile. “Well… you’re brave. I’ll give you that.”
Brave.
The polite word people used instead of saying fat girls shouldn’t wear that.
Stephen and Rio slid into the booth, and I forced myself to sit beside Carol even though I wanted to be anywhere else — including a volcano.
As the menus opened and small talk began, my cheeks still burned.
But under all the embarrassment and insecurity…
Something else flickered.
Something stubborn.
Maybe bravery didn’t mean feeling beautiful.
Maybe it just meant showing up anyway.
The waitress approached our table with a bright smile and a notepad that probably cost more than my rent.
“Welcome to Ember & Ash,” she said. “Can I start you with drinks and entrées?”
Stephen went first, lounging back like he owned the place.
“I’ll take the ribeye, medium-rare. Fries. And a Bud Light.”
Rio echoed him easily. “Same for me. Bud Light too.”
The waitress nodded, amused. “Simple men. Got it.”
Carol lifted her chin. “Chef salad. No cheese, no croutons, dressing on the side. And a glass of white wine. Dry.”
Of course.
When the waitress’s gaze landed on me, I sat a little straighter.
“Um… the lemon herb salmon with mashed potatoes. And a cherry lime vodka soda.”
“Perfect,” the waitress said, writing. “I’ll get those started.”
But before she even stepped away—
Carol made a strangled sound.
Stephen closed his eyes. “Here we go.”
Carol leaned forward, brows raised so high they almost merged with her hairline.
“What is wrong with you tonight?”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
Stephen groaned. “Carol. Stop.”
“No, I won’t stop.” Her voice was sharp enough to slice bread. “This was supposed to help her.”
Rio frowned. “Help her with what?”
Carol gestured broadly to me like I was a circus attraction she’d found on sale. “With… this.”
Rio glanced at me, confused. “I’m not following.”
“Exactly!” Carol’s laugh was brittle. “None of us expected this version of Seraphine to show up tonight.”
My stomach twisted. The dress suddenly felt tighter.
I took a slow breath. “Carol… what exactly is your problem with me?”
She scoffed. “Problem? I don’t have a problem. I just didn’t know you were going to come out dressed like…”
She waved a hand at me.
“…that.”
Stephen’s voice sharpened. “Carol, knock it off.”
She ignored him. “I mean, you usually dress appropriately for your body type. Cute sweaters. Loose tops. You know… flattering.”
A cold flush washed over me.
I looked down at my dress — simple black, fitted but not obscene, paired with a leather jacket and boots.
“This is literally a dress,” I said, trying not to cry or scream. “I’m not showing rolls or cleavage. What’s the issue?”
Carol leaned back in the booth like she had finally been granted permission to speak her truth.
“The issue is…”
She smiled sweetly.
“…you’re fat.”
The words hit the table like a gunshot.
Stephen slammed his hand down. “CAROL!”
Rio’s jaw tightened, eyes darkening.
But Carol kept talking.
Because of course she did.
“You shouldn’t be wearing things that draw attention to it,” she said, pretending to organize the salt and pepper shakers. “It’s distracting. And uncomfortable. And honestly—embarrassing.”
My throat burned.
I stared at her, stunned. “So what — I should hide myself forever because you’re uncomfortable looking at me?”
“Not forever,” she said.
“Just until you lose some weight.”
Rio muttered something colorful under his breath.
Stephen pointed at Carol. “I swear to God—”
“No, let her talk,” I said, voice much steadier than I felt.
“If she’s going to be a bitch, I want to hear the whole speech.”
Carol’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not being a bitch. I’m being realistic.”
“Oh, right,” I said with a humorless laugh. “Your realism sounds a lot like insecurity with lip gloss.”
Rio snorted into his water.
Carol bristled. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I said, leaning forward.
“I didn’t come here striving to be the skinny Barbie you want me to be. I came here in a dress. A normal dress. Eating salmon. Not a crime.”
Carol’s face reddened. “You’re being dramatic.”
“And you’re being rude,” Stephen snapped. “Enough.”
But I wasn’t done.
Not tonight.
“You know what’s embarrassing?” I said.
“Being so terrified of anyone else taking up space that you feel the need to shrink them so you can feel taller.”
Carol’s mouth dropped open.
Rio grinned behind his hand.
I kept going.
“You’re scared someone like me can look good without fitting your mold,” I said. “That’s the problem. Not my body. Not my clothes.”
“I—” she sputtered.
“You,” I said firmly, “are a mean girl wrapped in Nordstrom Rack.”
Stephen choked on his beer. “Jesus, Seraphine—”
“What?” I shrugged. “I’m just being realistic.”
Rio leaned back, smiling slowly — the kind of smile that said I’d just scored fifty points on an invisible scoreboard.
Carol crossed her arms, fuming.
“I don’t have to sit here and take this.”
“Then stand,” I said sweetly. “Might burn a few calories.”
Even Rio coughed to hide a laugh at that one.