“There’s nothing wrong with your body, Cal,” June told him fiercely. “You’re in better shape than probably eighty-five percent of the men in the world. You chop down trees, you work out, you hike.” She ran a hand down his chest, feeling the bumps and ridges as she went. “But I wouldn’t care if you had a beer belly and saggy boobs. You’d still be the man I love.”
