The weather was getting warmer each morning. Soon summer would be upon us and it would be time to go to Texas for three months. Or longer. Depending on where I was at, mentality wise. Although, I suspected that I'd end up back in California with Flynn. Where I knew I belonged.

Sunday morning beams of sunlight came through my bedroom window, touching the surface of the sea inspired decor and illuminating the blue wallpaper so that if I laid still, peeped through hooded lids and became still, I could pretend that I was floating on a cloud, staring up at the sky.

Yep, I missed California.

I couldn't complain too much though. New York was great. Max and Amalia were a dream to live with and I was having an incredible time with Bernie, designing, making, promoting. It'd been two weeks since mom said that she would give Bernie's portfolio to Harriet Bennett and I'd spent the entire week at her place in Philadelphia after school. If she wasn't required to attend, I'd have told her to skip and spent the entire day at her house. But she'd end up in trouble.

Things with Avery had been quiet in the media. There hadn't been anymore updates on his case, and I hoped it remained like that. I wanted nothing more than to put the entire ordeal behind me and move on.

Before I got dressed, I opened the brand new Instagram account that Bernie and I created together and checked out if there was some new activity. We'd created a page called Bernie&co. I was co. I didn't want to taint the page for Bernie and have a whole lot of spiteful haters flooding the comment section with negative bullshit. So instead, Bernie sent me photos of her designs and I edited them a little. Some filters, cropping and refining before I captioned them with the details. I also reached out to a few trusted friends that had a large following, asking them to give the page a shout out.

Not all of them had. A lot of the girls were threatened by the inclusion of more plus size and range in the fashion world. Like the standard was going to drop and render them all without a job. Not to mention, a lot of them felt that they had earned the right to model, they felt they had worked hard to meet the criteria and big girls who did nothing but sit on their asses and eat, didn't deserve the spotlight. That was Melrose Farthing's words, not mine. She wasn't nice to a single person on our sets. Not even herself. Nevertheless, there were a few, Jasmine, Darla, Jessica, those girls were all for the representation of all shapes and sizes.

Our Instagram page had three thousand followers so far and a lot of enthusiastic comments on Bernie's designs. There were three new messages inquiring about custom made dresses and pant suits and Harriet Bennett was a new follower on the page.

My gaze widened when I saw her name in the notifications, the little blue tick indicating her status, her seven point seven million followers who could potentially be pointed in the direction of Bernie's page. She was going to have a full on panic attack when she saw this, if she hadn't already.

When I was dressed in a white off the shoulder romper with a sashed waist and billowing shorts, I pulled my hair into a knot and wandered out into the corridor, coming to an abrupt halt when I heard the chatter of multiple women's voices. It'd slipped my mind that Amalia was having brunch with some of the girls from her high school.

She'd invited me to join her too and of course, I'd slept in. Rude.

But before I could make an appearance, I caught a snippet of conversation and stilled.

"You must know what she was in there for, right? I mean, you're dating her brother."

I waited for Amalia to answer but she didn't.

"We know it was an eating disorder," someone else said, a deeper but still feminine voice.

"Ugh, I hate it when girls with amazing bodies go on about how fat they are and how much weight they need to lose. It's so attention seeking."

"It must have been serious enough that she ended up in rehab though."

"Still, just quit being pathetic. You're obviously hot. I'm a size fourteen, tell me that you think you're fat in front of me and I'll drown you in frosting."

"That's enough," Amalia snapped. I hadn't expected her to defend me, I knew how much she hated people speculating but she'd come to realise that no comment was better than giving them fuel for whatever false rumour they could come up with. So while I hadn't been expecting her harsh tone to silence the room, a little thrum in my heart made me feel inexplicably grateful.

"I'm not telling you what she was in rehab for," Amalia continued. "But I am telling you that none of you have the right to decide whose struggles are genuine and whose aren't. Just because it isn't something you can relate to or understand, that doesn't mean it's not very real for the person going through it. You have no right to say that someone is pathetic just because you haven't been through the same thing as them."

The quiet that followed was so silent that I could hear the soft vibrate of someone's phone on the carpet. It occurred to me that I was hiding out, refusing to make an appearance and that wasn't me. More often than not, I'd have walked right out and told them all what I thought. Might have even swung. But I leaned a shoulder against the cold wall and exhaled, realising that I didn't have the energy to get into it with those girls. I didn't have the strength to hear their words either.

I turned around and wondered why I had no issue jumping down someone's throat in defence of a friend, but I couldn't manage to do it for me. The bed sheets were cool on my skin as I slid into the bed, pulled the comforter over my head and hid for the rest of the morning.

I politely passed on Amalia's offer to join her and her friends when she peeped through my door half n hour later. It wasn't her fault, I just didn't feel like pretending right now. I did enough of that.

It must have been some time in the afternoon when there was a soft tap on the door, the hinges squeaked as it was pushed open and I peered over the comforter to see Flynn standing at the threshold with a bouquet of lilies in his hand. The lilies were gorgeous, of course but seeing him in his open button down with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, a black shirt underneath, fitted jeans and his timbs on, wow, he made me breathless.

At the same time that I threw the comforter back, he ran forward and leapt onto the bed, he held the bouquet above his head, the paper surrounding wrinkled and we both laughed as he tried to make sure that the beautiful petals weren't damaged.

"What are you doing here?" I kissed him and sat up, cross legged. He handed me the flowers.

"Thought I'd come and spend the night. I've got no classes tomorrow. It's all winding down for the summer."

"Aww," I puckered up for another kiss.

"So," he crossed his legs as well and sat in front of me. Although, it looked a little more awkward for him, his legs being so long and all. I giggled. "What?"

"Nothing," I buried my grin in the lily petals. "I'm just happy to see you."

He smiled. Ugh I was so obsessed with those plump lips of his. "I'm happy to see you too. What are you doing in bed at two in the afternoon?"

I inhaled a deep breath and realised how much weight had lifted at the simple sight of my boyfriend. "You know what, I can't remember."

He raised a brow. "Alright. . ."

"We should do something."

He nodded. "Sure. Like what?"

Flynn had no hesitation asking me to make the plans because I had no issue deciding what we should do together. I didn't tell him to decide for us or flip out when the pressure of having to pick weighed down. "I feel like making pottery."

"Pottery?"

"Yep. Spinning the sludge and making vases or plates or whatever. We should do that."

He laughed. "That sounds great. Where did that idea come from though?"

"To be honest, I was watching How To Lose a Guy in 10 days last night. It occurred to me that I've never made pottery before."

He grinned. "Should I be worried. Tryna lose me in ten days?"

I sighed. "I couldn't even do it in seven months babe."

His expression dropped. Just a little.

"I'm just messing around."

He took the lilies out of my hand and set them on the side table before he gripped my wrist, pulled me forward and threw me down onto the mattress. He started tickling me around the middle and I squealed. Unfortunately, I was not immune to being tickled and he knew just where to do it.

"Stop!" I was breathless, thrashing. It was no use. The beast he was was far too large to fight off. "I'm going to piss my pants in a second. Flynn!"

He ceased and I laid back, staring at the ceiling while I gathered myself. "Cruel."

"This is beautiful," he pinched the fabric of my romper between his fingers. "You're beautiful."

"I should change. I've been in it all morning. It's wrinkled."

"It looks fine. But I'll wait if you want to put something else on."

I thought about it for a moment and then flipped my legs over my head so that I ended up doing a backwards roll off the bed. "Let's go."

We found a little studio downtown. It was a walk in, no bookings and there were a ton of stations available. The walls were covered in quirky little paintings, the chairs, tables and hardwood floor had specks of hardened clay all over them. It added character. In another setting, it might have seemed a mess, but among the art, worn wooden seats and stained glass windows, it fit. The mess belonged.

"A thought just occurred to me," I turned to Flynn who was staring at the 'menu'. Thirty eight dollars to sculpt a vase seemed a bit steep but it would be fun, I hoped. "I'm wearing white. And it looks like this stuff gets all over the place."

Flynn let his gaze move around the room before his sights rested on my outfit again. "Yep. That's got to come off."

I raised a brow and winked.

"And replaced with something that isn't white."

"Oh."

"Here," he chuckled. He pulled off his dark blue button down, leaving him in a plain black tee. "Put this on."

"Aw."

So I did, quite happily and buttoned it up. It was a dress on me, thanks to our massive height difference. Flynn bopped me on the nose and grinned.

"I love it when you wear my clothes. It's adorable. Like a child wearing an adult's hoodie."

"Oh ha ha."

He slung his arm around my shoulder and we wandered toward the counter where a little woman with her black hair twisted into dozens of knots all over her head stood, an apron on and a warm smile. She greeted us with a thick Jamaican accent.

"That was sweet," she gestured at the shirt that I was now wearing as a dress. "But we have full cover aprons."

"Full cover?" Flynn questioned.

She nodded and turned around, reaching into a drawer against the back wall. There were a collection of painted pots next to the register, various shapes and sizes. If I could manage to create a decent vase, I'd have somewhere to put the lilies that Flynn gave me. The woman turned back to us and held out a long apron with arms and a sash to secure it at the back. It reminded me of the bibs that we used to wear when we were babies. There was a photo at home of Lucas, Max and I in matching ones, different colours, covered in the remnants of our first birthday cake.

"Have you done this before or should we do a quick tutorial?" The woman asked.

"We haven't done this before."

So Corina, she introduced herself and shook our hands after she'd handled the wet sludge, showed us how to use the spinner and sculpt a basic shaped vase. She invited us to join her six week course where we could learn more intricate designs and keep all of our creations. We declined of course. Flynn didn't live in New York and I had no idea how much longer I'd be with Max and Amalia. But it was a thrill once we got into it.

Corina left us alone once we got the hang of it and I made Flynn sit behind me so that we could sculpt together. His arms came around in front of me and I felt as if I could disappear into his hold, the place where I felt safest. When we were finished and the vases dried, we painted them. Flynn did his best at creating a comic strip of anime characters that he planned on giving to his mom for Christmas because she was obsessed with anime and she loved hand made sentimental gifts. Two birds, one stone.

I decided to paint blue and white geometric designs on mine, to suit the rest of my bedroom at Max's. My attempt at painting a blue sea with white tips for the waves was an absolute fail, it didn't look at all like the vision I had in my head. So I used a triangle stencil and sponge dabbed blue and white to create some sort of ombré effect. In the end, it was layers of botched attempts that looked more like a second grade art project but I liked it.

Corina told us that our vases would require a few hours to bake and set so we wandered off to have some coffee and an ice cream. Flynn held my hand as we walked down the crowded sidewalk and devoured cookies and cream. As much as I hated to think it, I couldn't help but feel grateful that we were walking so much after the double scoop ice cream. It was a brief thought but my chest tightened, anxious at the prospect of putting on under arm jiggle or adding to the muffin tops that I peered down at in the shower and felt sick with self hatred at the sight of.

I shook it off as best I could. Who cares? Who really cares if I have a little bit of weight. Flynn loves me, I'm not modelling at the moment, likely ever again, and I'm healthy. That's the main thing, I'm healthy according to the professionals. I'm not overweight. I'm not underweight. Body fat gathers where it wants to. There's nothing that I can do about that.

"Babe?"

I peered up at Flynn and saw him looking at me with furrowed brows. We were at the harbour, next to the water. Railing surrounded the concrete edge and the long stretch of bench seats were full.

"Your ice cream is melting."

"Oh," I looked at my hand and saw that it was dripping down my fingers and hand. I licked it up.

"Mom sent me a text while we were at the pottery studio. She said to give you a hug."

"And what else?"

Flynn pursed his lips but his refusal to meet my eyes screamed guilt. He cracked a grin. "And eat more Korean cuisine. It's better than American food. Also, when's the wedding?"

I burst into giggles and almost lost the ice cream in my mouth. That was definitely something that Margaret would say. Despite spending most of her life in America, she was still tied to her roots and culture. Not that I thought her persistence that Flynn and I get married had anything to do with culture, but more with the fact that he was her one chance for grandchildren and she was becoming impatient.

A sudden wave of guilt washed over me and the appetite for my ice cream was gone.

"What? What's wrong?" Flynn stepped forward, almost backing me into the steel railing. He looked so concerned and my horrible self was about to tell him that I didn't want to give his mother grandchildren. I knew last time I saw him that I had to tell him the truth and I couldn't put it off again. It wouldn't be fair. I knew what hiding things did to a relationship.

"I don't want kids."

His lips parted and he looked from left to right. "Uh, like right now? Or—"

"Ever. I don't ever want to have children."

It didn't matter that the harbour waves were slapping the concrete below us, or that there were hundreds of cars driving fast on the freeway and it didn't matter that people were walking and talking all around us, this moment rendered silence between us and it was so prominent that I could hear my own heart hammering against my rib cage.

"But— but—" he stammered and shook his head. "What about Theo and Paislee?"

My stomach knotted at the mention of our chosen baby names. We'd been at the house in California, on the beach at our back door step while we laid out under the stars and planned the future. The sort of thing that spirals from one random comment into an entire life plan right down to the details of the guest bedroom. We'd pretended to argue over little things, things that we made fun of other couples for arguing over. Which material the crib would be made out of, wood or steel? Framed art on the walls or canvas art? New born hand and feet moulds made or was that too extra? We pretended to argue about all of those things but in actual fact, we agreed. No matter what.

"I know that we had a plan," I felt like a piece of shit as I dumped my ice cream in the trash and avoided his sad stare. "But I don't want kids anymore. I don't think I can do it. Ya know? Raise children, knowing that it doesn't matter what you do, something could go wrong. The more that I think about it, the more that it seems like a such a weird concept. You give birth to these little humans and raise them, love them so much that it's indescribable and then something happens and it's the worst pain that a person could endure. I don't want that."

He swallowed. I heard it and then he threw his arms up, letting them slap his side when they fell. He became so much more animated with his body language when he was at a loss for words.

"Well, that's right now. That's not to say that you won't change your mind. Later. You've gone through a lot recently. It's probably just— I'm sure you'll change your mind."

Flynn would never push me into something that I didn't want. He would never expect me to feel a certain way about something just because he did. That was how I knew he was panicking. He was scared that I meant what I said and he couldn't handle it. My heart was breaking.

"I don't think I will," I said, voice small. "And I know how much you want kids, Flynn. I thought that it would be best to be honest now. Before—"

"Before what?"

"Before it's too late. Before we get married or whatever. I didn't want to make you feel trapped. So if you want to leave, I get it."

He narrowed his stare. "Is this another tactic to get rid of me?" He sounded so hurt, his voice trembled. "Do you—"

"Flynn," I snapped. "Seriously? These are your insecurities talking because you can't make this about yourself! This is just how I feel. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you but I'm not going to be selfish. Hence the reason that I'm being honest."

He exhaled, deep and long and then he said nothing for a long time.

"It doesn't matter," he said, still watching the ground. "I choose you. I do. Abby, I love you and I can't imagine a future without you."

"What about a future without children?"

"The only children that I'd ever want would be yours. I don't need what I don't have. But I've lost you once, I don't think I can do it again."

I knew that he meant what he said, I knew it but the words slipped right off, repelled despite the fact that I wanted to hold his sentiments tight against my chest, absorb them until this incessant hollow ache was healed. The thing is, it's hard to believe that someone else loves you that much, especially when you don't even love yourself.