"How did your first night at home go?" Alex asked.

Her face was all that I could see on the screen in front of me. Behind her it looked like she was in the commons lounge at the clinic. But as for background noise, I couldn't hear a lot. I figured she must have been alone.

"It was fine," I sat on top of my bed and smiled. I hadn't been up long but I could hear Max and Amalia out in the living area.

Max must have been getting ready for work. Amalia and I had plans this morning but I wasn't exactly sure what those plans consisted of.

She said she had Wednesday's off and wanted to hang out. I knew I was being watched. But whatever.

"Did you call him?" Alex stared at me.

I stared back

"Abby," she exhaled.

"It's been seven months," I murmured and twisted the white gold chain that hung around my neck. A gift he'd given me at graduation. "He's moved on. I've moved on. I don't have the right to resurface and tip his world upside down."

Her stare became bored and disbelieving. "He's moved on? You've moved on? That sounds like a blatant lie."

"How could he not have?"

"How could he have?" She threw her hands up and the screen lagged for a second, pausing on her outraged expression. "For starters, he's crazy about you. Second, that'd be so rude. You were in rehab for chips sakes. Who would be so low?"

"I told him to move on. I told him to forget about me."

She held up a finger with matter of fact all over her smug face. "You're an idiot. And he'd be one too if he listened."

Growing tired of having the same conversation, I groaned. "It'd never work. He'd be worried. All the time. I'd get frustrated because of his concern and we'd argue. Alright? It just wouldn't work with the level of mistrust."

"That's what you've told yourself as a justification, Abby," her face was close enough to the screen that I felt like I'd be able to reach out and  pinch her nose. "That's all it is. Fear of letting them down. Which is natural. But don't you think it's worth a shot? Was that relationship not special enough to at least give it the second chance that it deserves?"

That relationship was the reason that I believed love still existed in this world of transient connections.

"How are you?" I asked her, smiling. She rolled her eyes and shrugged.

"Same old, same old. Smarter, wiser and better than the rest," she winked. "I miss you. It's quieter around here now. You keeping off social media?"

I nodded.

"Call him."

"Ugh," I groaned and waved at the screen. "I have to go."

The screen went blank. I felt confused for a moment considering I hadn't been the one to end the call. But a text blipped on my phone a moment later and it was Alex letting me know that she'd hung up on me before I could hang up on her. I laughed and wandered over to the closet to find the clothes that I would wear today.

It was hot out at the moment. So I laid out a sundress, a hat and some underwear before I slipped off to the bathroom to shower. The fact that Max had a mirror opposite his shower was the worst thing in the world. Who could stand to stare at themselves showering? Oh right, girls with flawless figures. Not that such a girl existed.

Except she did.

A lot of them did.

Proportionate figures, flat stomachs, small waists, defined legs, slim arms.

I turned my back on the mirror and took a deep breath.

After the shower, I wandered out into the kitchen, dressed with wet hair draping around my shoulders. There was a hot breakfast on the breakfast bar, steam rose and twisted in the air between Amalia and I while she rinsed dishes under the faucet. She smiled and switched the tap off.

"Morning."

"Hey," I slid onto a barstool and stared down at the bowl of scrambled eggs. "What's in this?"

"Eggs," Amalia grinned. "And cheese, peppers, a little bit of ham and onion. It's nothing major. Just a quick breakfast that I made too much of for Max so I thought you might like the rest."

It was obvious that she wasn't telling the whole truth. I doubt this was just 'leftovers'. But Amalia was so kind that even if I did feel a bit pressured and obligated into eating, I wouldn't tell her that. Instead I picked up the fork and thanked her.

I hated eating in the morning. It ruined the entire day. Bloating was immediate and the pouch in my front was impossible to hide. At least if I didn't eat until after three, I was usually in for the day and I didn't need to concern myself over the fact that my skinny jeans strained against my stomach. Unless of course I was going out for the night and then I couldn't eat all day because I'd be drinking alcohol and there was too much sugar and calories in alcohol alone without adding food to it.

"Abby?"

I looked up at Amalia who was unloading the dishwasher. She had a flat stomach. Her jean shorts were loose.

"Yeah?"

"Is everything alright?"

I nodded. "Yeah, of course," I smiled and stabbed at the scrambled eggs. "You've eaten? You don't want something?"

"No I've eaten," she said and I felt envious. I pushed it down and ate while I attempted to remind myself that no matter how hard I exercised or how little I ate, there were some figures that I was never going to achieve because of the way I was made. And that didn't meant that I wasn't beautiful.

"You want a coffee?" She flicked the kettle on.

"Uh no thanks. But does Max still have the herbal teas that I used to leave here?"

"Of course," she slid across to the cupboard and opened it to reveal a neat stack of teas in the top corner. There were more flavours than there were last time. In fact, the entire cupboard was stocked with foods, spices, herbs, ingredients with colourful labels and unique names. "I forgot that we had these bud we did the shopping a few days ago and he mentioned that you love herbal tea."

I smiled and noted the fruit flavours. "I'll have one of the Apple and blackcurrent ones please."

"Sure," she smiled and reached on her tip toes to get it.

After we'd had a drink and finished cleaning up the breakfast dishes, we decided to head out. I wore a sunhat and a pair of shades in the hopes that it would hide me somewhat and I wouldn't get photographed for having left rehab.

"I still don't know what we're doing?" I said as Amalia and I wandered down the footpath. The sun was sweltering and I'd almost forgotten how fast paced New York could be. I'd been in a quiet, slow, serene treatment centre for seven months and it felt like someone had just pressed fast forward.

"Well," Amalia checked her cellphone before sliding it into her back pocket again. "It's nine. Which means Max is due his first coffee."

"Ah," I smiled. My brother might have been spreading his wings and getting out of an office to find more colour. But he was still a creature of habit. "From the cart beside the gallery?"

"Yep," she nodded. "I meet him most mornings with his double shot mocha and a spiced latte for me."

"Creature of habit," I chuckled. He'd been having mocha's since he was twelve. It was a transition from hot chocolates with a pinch of coffee in them to coffee with a pinch of chocolate instead.

We took a cab, collected the coffee from the super nice man that ran the cart and wandered down to the gallery. It was cool inside. The air conditioning was on and Max was chatting with a customer in front of a painting. He turned and smiled when he saw us. But the smile that he gave Amalia was new.

You kind of think when you have a brother for almost twenty years, that you'd know them and nothing could be a surprise. But I'd never seen that look on his face before. These two would be settling down and having babies before we knew it. I'd always wanted children but now all I could think about was how I would put on weight and there wouldn't be a single thing that I could do to stop it.

Stupid.

Amalia wandered straight over to the wrought iron desk that was at the end of the room and I followed her. She placed the coffee down and started tapping on the touch screen computer. A small smile lifted her lips as she read a bunch of numbers that I couldn't make sense of. Maths had never been my strong suit. No matter how hard Flynn tried to help me.

I heard Max tell his customer that he'd leave him to think it over and soon he was beside us. He leaned in to Amalia, kissing her cheek before he gave me a small wave.

"Look at these sales," she wrapped her arm around his waist and beamed up at him. "Dad will be able to arrange the pop up store in no time. This is amazing mi amado."

Max gave a modest shrug and picked up his coffee.

"Thanks for bringing me this. How's the morning been so far?"

"Fine," I said when Amalia looked to me to answer. What'd she want me to tell him? We'd eaten and come here. Not the most thrilling list of activities but it was still early. "Have mom and dad been in here before?"

"Yeah," Max nodded. "They bought a few pieces and had them shipped back to Texas a couple of months ago. I think dad put in a special request to Elias. A personal painting that he wanted done. I don't know what it was but Elias said no and he didn't want to talk about it."

I couldn't help but laugh. It echoed off the walls and I covered my mouth. That was so dad. I missed him. As outrageous as he was.

"We should get going," Amalia tiptoed and kissed Max who still looked like a lovesick puppy. "We're going shopping."

"We are?"

She looped her arm through mine and grinned. "Yep. For decor. Your room needs it's own touch. Right?"

"Yeah I guess so."

"And your mom did tell you to change it to her card. Right?"

I chuckled. "Mhmm."

"If you're going to be living with us, your space should be your own."

"Have fun," Max called out as I was dragged towards the glass doors. There was no air conditioning out there. Bleh. Whatever. Amalia and I waved behind us and stepped out onto the hot streets of New York.

"I don't know how long I'll be in New York," I said as we weaved through people who walked fast, some on cellphones, some darting in and out of stores. Some with dogs and some dancing to a song that only they could hear. "I mean, I go home for the summer in a month. I don't really know what the plan is from there."

"That's okay," she said. "You stay with Max more than anyone. It'll be your room. Or you can take whatever you want with you."

I decided not to argue and when we got to the mall, we sifted through the homeware stores. It became more relaxed after a while. Amalia was easy to be with. She didn't stop smiling. She had great taste. Whatever we purchased we ordered to have delivered to the apartment so that we didn't have to lug it around with us.

As we wandered through the mall, I tried not to dwell on the dozens of fashion photographs. Large ones hanging in store windows. Flawless bodies. Too flawless. It was so unrealistic that it made me furious. I wasn't the only girl that had fallen victim to the standards that these criminals set. How could people sleep at night after photoshopping woman so much that it set an unattainable goal for young people?

Because even though I knew that it wasn't real, even though I knew that my body was nothing to be ashamed of, a part of me still longed to look as perfect as the girls in those photos. And that was the worst part of all.

At the apartment, Max's record player was spinning. Amalia had put on some old soulful tune and her and I were in the kitchen. She'd convinced me to help her with dinner while we waited for our deliveries. I wasn't sure what the dish was. But there were a lot of flavours and different colours. We both had our hair tied back and our sleeves rolled up.

"I just think that it's sort of. . . pathetic," Amalia said, stirring a bowl full of ingredients while I rolled out dough. "All of these girls are standing there, waiting for a man to give them a rose to validate their connection. Like don't get me wrong, it's just as gross when it's the girl choosing the man. I just don't understand why anyone would put themselves through that. Women competing against women for one douche lord while he sifts through them. Gross."

"Yeah," I agreed, although I'd never looked at The Bachelor like that before. I could see what she meant. "I think those shows where they have an equal number of men and women who can find their best match is better."

"Mmm," she nodded and coated her ingredients with herbs. "That can still end with girls scratching each other over one boy who misses leg day too often."

I laughed and started rolling a new piece of dough. "Can you imagine meeting Max like that?"

She burst out laughing. "He's so cute and polite that it'd be a nightmare for him. Like just imagine him doing a rose ceremony. He'd be so afraid of offending someone that he'd end up kicking himself off the show."

"He is definitely on the softer side. Is it bad that I sort of want someone to hit on you in front of him. Just so I can actually see him pop off for once."

Amalia shook her head with amusement and gave me a playful glare. "You think no one has hit on me in the last, what, almost year? I'm offended."

I gave her a once over and laughed. "Yeah of course they have. But in front of him?"

"Yeah of course. He just knows that it doesn't matter because I wouldn't look at another man. It might be a different story if someone touched me. Or hurt me."

"Alright well I don't want that just for the sake of seeing Max flip the switch."

We both laughed and Amalia reached across me to pick up the oven dish. "That's such a cute sundress by the way. I was looking at it this morning."

"Oh thanks," I peered down at the thin pale blue fabric and smiled. "I got it from White Fox boutique."

"They have the cutest clothes."

"Yeah I modelled for them once and got to leave with a pile of brand new outfits. Tags on and all."

Amalia must have sensed that the topic of a former lifestyle stung a little bit. Once upon a time modelling was my entire world. I wanted it more than anything else and it did hurt to remember how toxic that world had been for me. But I smiled and shrugged, hoping that we could let the conversation go.

"I gave the outfits to a woman's outreach. Ya know, survivors of abuse and homeless teens. That sort of place."

"You guys were raised so right," she started placing the circles of dough on the oven dish and sprinkling her ingredients on them. Like some sort of burrito. But not. It smelled incredible though.

Before I could answer her and tell her that we indeed did have an upbringing that instilled the sense to do well and do more, my phone chimed. My finger tips were dusted with flour, so I wiped them on a dish cloth and checked the home screen. Within an instant, my heart stopped and my vision blurred. It's that panic of not being prepared for what you've just seen and I swallowed, attempting to regulate my breathing.

It was Flynn.

I heard that you left the centre. Enjoy New York and just know that I miss you. I miss you so much Abby. You're the most beautiful woman that I know and I love you. No matter how much time comes between us, it'll always be you.

"Abby?"

I looked up. "Yeah?"

"What's wrong?"

"It's been seven months."

Amalia peered from side to side with confusion and I could tell how unstable I sounded. But I felt like I'd been punched in the throat.

"Seven months," I said again, clutching the phone tight. "He should have moved on. Met someone else. Forgotten about me."

I realised that I was crying when I tasted salt on my lips.

Amalia drew me into a hug. Her palm moved in circles on my back. I felt like I was going to fucking hyperventilate if I didn't calm down. "This isn't normal," I sobbed. "It shouldn't hurt like it's fresh when it happened so fucking long ago."

"Since when is love normal?" She murmured, still holding me. "There's no right or wrong. There's no standard version of what love feels like. Or how long it should take to fall in and out. It's about what you feel. And what you deserve. And you deserve Flynn."

He deserved better.