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Ember Valentine is stamped all over this room. Her photographs, her clothing, her special belongings, her scent. I belong here. Asher wants me in here. It’s my room, and I’m determined to walk through the door of this room and feel totally at home.

Not as a guest.

Not as an intruder.

Not as a mistress.

But as Mrs. Asher Valentine.

It’s easier said than done, though. My brain hasn’t completely caught up with the fact that I am Ember. New Ember. But still, real Ember.

I fold down the comforter and fluff a bunch of pillows up against the headboard. We’ve been spending a lot more time together in this room—watching movies, playing board games, cuddling, and falling asleep together. The feeling of I’m just visiting—this isn’t my room is slowly fading. It’s starting to feel right.

I glance at the digital clock on the nightstand. Asher should be just about done with his workout and will be up here soon to watch a movie… and maybe more. Lately, things have been heating up between us. Kisses are more passionate. Touches are more sensual. My body is waking up, responding to him in all the ways a healthy woman’s body should. The emotional and physical numbness I felt in the beginning is dwindling. Asher and I had an amazing sensual relationship from what I’ve read in the diaries, and now that I have feelings for him, I want that part too.

I pad across the soft carpet to the adjoining bathroom to brush my hair and dab a little of his favorite perfume on. Before I leave, I stare at myself in the mirror, and my smile slowly fades.

Sydni’s coma-diet comment is still echoing around in my brain, along with her hints about how close she and Asher were. I’m fully aware of the effect Asher has on women, but I believe him when he tells me he has always been faithful in every way.

He waited for me.

But…now that I’m here…is he attracted to me like he once was?

I’m not blind. The house is full of pictures of her. With her curves and glowing skin and all that sassy confidence—with her big, perky boobs and peachy, round booty. Pre-accident Ember was a beautiful rock goddess.

The other women are gorgeous too. Evie, Asia, Ivy, Tabi, Rayne, Kenzi. Even Aria is stunning. The entire circle of Valentine friends and family has been blessed with hot men and beautiful women.

I don’t feel like I have to be beautiful or that I’ll be judged by my looks, but I want to feel pretty and confident. And of course, I want my husband to be attracted to me.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly remove the black Ashes & Embers T-shirt Asher gave me. It’s faded, and the neck has been cut wider to fall off the shoulder. I slide off my cotton panties. Standing straight, I study my body in the full-length mirror to gauge the state of my current sex appeal.

It’s not good.

I was proud of myself at my last weekly weigh-in for gaining two pounds.

But at five foot seven and one hundred and ten pounds, I look extremely thin. With clothes on, it’s not so bad. But naked, I look like someone who’s been sick or starving.

My spirits plummet further as my gaze roves over the scars from the multiple IV ports and feeding tube that had been in my body for years. My ribs and collarbone are glaringly visible, jutting from my skin. My chest has flattened to an A-cup with zero cleavage. My cheeks are still a bit hollow and not in the popular contouring way.

I can’t bring myself to turn around to see how flat my butt is or how far my hip bones stick out from a side view.

My doctors have told me this is normal progress. It’s harder for patients like me to gain weight and muscle fast—especially since I have no urges to eat a lot. When I do eat, I tend to choose low calorie and low protein meals and snacks because they appeal to me. Ice cream is really the only fattening food I eat, and I only eat that when Asher and I have it together late at night.

I’m slowly working on all that, though, in the hopes of getting some curves back.

Chewing my lip, I quickly pull my clothes back on, wondering if I should wear pajama bottoms to bed instead of just panties, even though I’m more comfortable this way.

Feeling a little sick, I go back to the bed and perch on my side. Asher hasn’t seen me totally naked yet, and after what I just saw in the mirror, I’m not sure I want him to.

“Hey, babe.”

I pull a pillow over my lap as he crosses the room, all shiny with sweat, to give me a kiss.

“Hi…”

“I’m gonna take a quick shower. Then I’m all yours.”