The Blame Game

Chapter 1

Mia was already gasping for breath, and she’d been wrestling with the button of her jeans for only a few moments, sucking in her stomach in a desperate bid to make them fit. The denim bit into her softened waist, refusing to lessen its grip no matter how hard she pulled.


“C’mon, dammit!” she muttered angrily, glaring at her reflection in the full-length bedroom mirror. “This is ridiculous!”


It was safe to say Mia’s reflection had changed over the course of the last few months. What had once been a fitted tank top now clung to her fuller breasts and growing belly, the fabric stretched tight as it tried to cover everything. And then there were her jeans, which cut into her hips and squeezed her once-lean thighs. Now she could feel them brushing against each other with her every motion.


Growling under her breath, Mia finally gave up and flopped onto the bed. “This is all your fault, you know,” she said, tilting her head to look at the other person leaning against the headboard. Her boyfriend Ryan smiled, one eyebrow raised.


“Oh, yeah? And what exactly did I do?”


Mia sat up, then heatedly jabbed a finger into her midsection. “This!” she snapped. I’ve gained 20 pounds since we started dating, and it’s all because you won’t stop feeding me!”


Ryan laughed, and despite herself Mia felt her anger cooling. Why did that sound have to be so disarming?

“I feed you because you’re hungry, Mia. That’s what normal people do in a normal relationship. I’m not sure how it’s my fault just because I’m a really good cook.”


Mia rolled her eyes. “Because you’re always cooking something, or brining me snacks, or insisting I have just ‘one more bite’ before I’m done. And I always do, because your food is amazing. But now look at me. I can’t’ even fit into my favorite jeans!”


Ryan sat up a little straighter and looked at her, his eyes trailing down from her flushed cheeks to the soft curve of her belly. “Maybe so,” he said, “but you look beautiful.”


“That’s not the point,” she said, scowling at him.


“Isn’t it, though?”


She tried swatting his thigh, but he merely caught her hand and leaned down to kiss her palm. “Seriously, Mia, you’re acting like I’ve been force feeding you. I just make the food, babe. You’re the one who eats it.”


Crossing her arms over her chest, Mia started pouting. “I would eat so much if it wasn’t so damn good,” she grumbled.


“So, what you’re complaining about,” Ryan said, leaning close with a smile on his lips, “is that I’m too good at cooking?”


Mia tried to hold onto her frustration, but it was hard in the face of his natural charms. Then there was his look, a mixture of amusement and something…softer, that made her stomach start turning somersaults. Under that onslaught, a smile started to appear on her face.


“God, you’re so infuriating.”


“And yet, you don’t seem to complain when you’re stuffing your face with my homemade lasagna.”


Mia groaned as she threw herself back down on the bed. “Don’t remind me. It was so good. I had, like, three plates!”


“Four,” Ryan grinned. “And all because you wanted it, so are you really trying to blame me, or are you just upset that you like to eat?”


She shot him a glare, but there was no heat behind it.


“Okay, fine!” she admitted. “Maybe I have a tiny bit of self-control issues when it comes to food.”


Ryan leaned close and kissed her cheek. “There you go, mystery solved.”


Mia sighed, rubbing her belly absently. “Doesn’t change the fact that I still need new jeans.”


“Sounds like a good excuse to go shopping,” Ryan said. “I’ll even buy you lunch after.”


“You’re really not helping, you know that, right?”


Laughing, Ryan pulled her into his arms. “I help plenty,” he said. “And right now, I’m helping you realize that you are still the most beautiful, amazing person in the world, no matter how much weight you think you’ve gained.”


Mia rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile slowly blossoming on her lips.


“Fine,” she sighed. “But you’re paying for lunch.”


“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”



* * * * *



Mia gritted her teeth as she threw yet another top onto the growing pile of rejected clothes. The bedroom looked like a tornado had hit it—jeans, t-shirts, and a variety of dresses were strewn everywhere, all victims of her increasingly desperate search for something that still fit.


But nothing did.


Mia was standing in front of the mirror, hands on hips and clad in only her underwear, staring at her reflection. She could barely believe what she was seeing. Her hips had grown considerably wider, curving outward in a way that made even her stretchiest leggings feel too tight. Then there was her belly, round and soft, jiggling with her every movement and starting to seriously hang over the waistband of her panties. Her thighs, once so toned, now squished together as they fought for space, and even her arms were fuller, her face rounder.


“This is ridiculous,” she said, turning slightly to glance over her shoulder. Her ass had grown too, sticking out much more than before, and straining the seams of her underwear near to the breaking point. “No wonder nothing fits me anymore.”


“Talking to yourself again?” Ryan’s voice came from the doorway. Mia jumped, then spun around.


“Don’t do that!” she snapped as she tried, and failed, to hide her body from his keen eyes. Her futile actions made him smile.


“Sorry,” he smirked. “Didn’t realize this was a private event.”


“It is when I’m dealing with a crisis!” She gestured to the piles of clothes scattered around her. “I have nothing to wear!”


“Nothing?” Ryan raised an eyebrow. “That seems a bit dramatic.”


Groaning, Mia dropped onto the bed. “I’m serious, Ryan. I don’t fit into anything! Every pair of jeans I own won’t go up past my thighs, all my shirts are too tight, and my dresses…” She shook her head. “Don’t even get me started. I look like a sausage stuffed into every single one of them.”


He shrugged. “So, you’ve outgrown some clothes. Not exactly the end of the world, babe.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’s gained 50 pounds in this relationship. God, I’m turning into a blimp!”


“I wouldn’t say that.” He sat down beside her, put his hand on her thigh, and gave it a soft squeeze. “And, anyway, I think you wear it well.”


Mia shot him a look. “Don’t,” she warned.


“I mean it,” he said. “You look great!”


“Yeah,” she said, rubbing her belly absently. “But I feel huge!”


“Okay, okay,” he said. “You have put on a little weight. But is that really such a bad thing?”


She bit her lip, hesitating. “I…I don’t know, honestly. I just…I never thought I’d get this big. Like, to the point where I need a whole new wardrobe just to leave the house.”


“Sounds like a great excuse to go shopping,” Ryan said, then gave her a suggestive smile. “And maybe grab lunch while we’re at it.”


“Of course, you would bring up food!”


“A girl’s gotta eat, right?”


Mia grabbed her belly with either hand and squished it between her fingers. “Yeah, but I don’t know if this girl needs to eat quite so much.” She sighed. “Fine, but I swear, Ryan, if you so much as suggest dessert…”


He smiled at her. “No promises, babe.”



* * * * *



Mia stood frozen in the bathroom, breathing quick, her hands squeezed so tight that her knuckles had turned white. Her eyes were fixed on the small machine beneath her, the flashing red numbers seeming to taunt her.


201.2


Her stomach lurched, her pulse pounding in her ears. There was no way this could be right. Frantically, she stepped off the scale, took a deep breath, then stepped back on.


201.4


“No,” she whispered desperately. “It’s not possible!”


Mia knew she’d gained weight. It was impossible not to notice—the way her body felt, the way her movements had changed, even the way her larger wardrobe was starting to feel snug again. But she refused to believe it was this bad.


Seventy pounds. She had gained 70 pounds in less than a year. And Ryan…


Ryan!


Mia clenched her jaw as anger blazed in her chest. She stormed out of the bathroom, barely registering the heavy bounce of her belly and breasts as she moved, or the way her thighs rubbed together with every step. It didn’t take her long to find Ryan lounging on the couch, scrolling on his phone and looking as relaxed as ever.


“Ryan!” she snapped. Despite her obvious anger, he still managed to smile as he looked up at her.


“Morning, babe.”


Normally it would have been hard to ignore the warmth in his voice, or the easygoing way he looked at her, as though she were the only woman in the world. But anger was a strong inoculation.


“Don’t ‘babe’ me!” she spat. “You did this to me!”


He blinked, his smile fading. “I…what?”


Mia slapped her plush stomach, sending a ripple through her flesh. “This!” she growled. “I just got on the scale, Ryan, and do you have any idea what it said? Two hundred pounds, Ryan! Two fucking hundred!”


Ryan lifted his brows slightly, but he didn’t look nearly as shocked as she wanted him to be. That only made her even angrier.


“Oh, my god, you have been doing it!”


“Doing what?” he asked, a note of uncertainty in his voice.


“You’ve been fattening me up this entire time! All those meals, the snacks, making sure I never go hungry—you knew what you were doing the whole time!”


Ryan leaned forward, his expression calm but cautious. “Hold on a sec, Mia. I never forced you to do anything. I never made you eat any of that stuff.”


“Oh, please!” she laughed bitterly. “You might as well have, with your enabling and encouragement. You always had food waiting for me, something for me to snack on. God, Ryan, even when I tried holding back, you’d act like I was starving myself!”


“Mia, please.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I love cooking for you. I love seeing you happy. And, yes, I love your body. But I never tried making you gain weight! I just…I wanted you to enjoy yourself.”

“Well, congratulation!” she spat. “Because now I’m fat, and I hate it! I hate this body! I hate how I look! I hate how I feel! But you know what I hate most of all?”

“Uh…what?” he asked carefully.


“The fact that you just sat there and let it happen!”


Ryan’s expression hardened slightly. “Oh, c’mon, Mia. You’re acting like I was there force-feeding you every bite, or like I tricked you into this, or something.”


Mia clenched her fists, the nails digging into her palms. “You didn’t stop me, Ryan! You never stopped me! And you know what?” She swallowed. “I don’t think you ever wanted to stop me.”


With an effort, Ryan managed to regain some of his usual calm. “Would stopping have made you happy?”

Mia opened her mouth, but no words came out. She wasn’t sure whether it was because she was too furious to speak, or because she knew he had a point. Out of everything that had happened, that unknown infuriated her the most. She exhaled sharply.


“I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered, blinking back angry tears.


Ryan stiffened. “Mia, don’t—”


“I mean it!” she snapped, hugging herself as she suddenly felt unbearably exposed. Unbearably huge. “I can’t be with someone who is okay with me ruining myself like this.”


Ryan stared for a long moment, something unreadable flickering just beneath the surface. “You really think you ruined yourself?” he finally asked.


“I let myself go,” she said. He swallowed, then nodded slowly.


“So, that’s it?” he asked. “You’re leaving me?”


Mia took a shaking breath, then nodded. She wasn’t sure she wanted to do this. But, at the same time, she knew she had to.


For a long while, Ryan could only stare at her. Then, he gave one quick nod. “Okay.” That was it. No arguing. No begging. Just…acceptance.


Mia turned on her heel, trying to ignore the way her whole body jiggled with the motion, or the way her stomach had worked itself free of her shirt, then stormed toward the door. She needed to leave, to get out before she changed her mind. Before she let herself believe that Ryal had loved her, and not just her body. Before she could let herself think that maybe—


Stop it!


Then, bitterly regretting her choices, Mia left.



* * * * *



Mia sat at the kitchen table, staring blankly at the sad plate in front of her. On it was some steamed broccoli, a half cup of brown rice, and a small portion of grilled chicken. She squeezed her eyes shut, then forced herself to pick up the fork. This is what she needed, or so she kept telling herself, if she wanted to get her weight under control.


And yet…


Hungry as she was, she couldn’t bring herself to eat. This was the exact same meal she’d had for lunch. And dinner the day before. And the day before that. She was already so sick of this, of eating clean. God, she missed real food.


Unbidden, her mind recalled the scent of buttery garlic bread fresh from the oven, and the sizzle of bacon pulling her from bed in the morning. From there, she began to spiral—the rich creaminess of a homemade alfredo sauce, or a perfect stack of golden pancakes stacked high and smothered in syrup.


Mia squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the obvious. But she knew. It wasn’t just about the food. It was about him.


She missed Ryan.


She hated admitting that, even to herself. Hated that even after all these weeks, she still felt the pull of him. Shouldn’t she have felt better by now, with clean eating and exercising? Instead, she just felt so…so…


Empty.


Sighing, Mia pushed the plate back, her appetite gone. A thought was already forming in her subconscious, and before she could stop herself, she’d grabbed her phone and pulled up his number. Her thumb hovered over the call button as she wrestled with what she was about to do. Then she tapped it. The phone rang.


Mia’s heart was pounding. What was she going to say? That she missed him? That her life was miserable without him? That she wanted him to—


The call connected.


“Mia?”


Her breath caught in her throat. His voice was warm, familiar, safe. For a second, she almost responded, almost told him everything. But then she panicked and hung up. Heart racing, she dropped the phone like it was a venomous snack.


What the hell am I doing?


She stared at the phone, wondering if it might ring. Hoping it might ring. But it didn’t, and Mia felt herself relax. She wasn’t ready to confront this, not yet. She would have to, though, because whatever had prompted her to try calling him was far from satisfied.