“These just arrived for you.” He shifts the vase of roses into one arm and reaches for my bag of wine. The bottles clink together as he shifts the bag in his arm. He gives me a suspecting look, and I can’t help but smile.
“It was a rough first day,” I joke. “However, I don’t plan to drink all three bottles tonight.”
“They won’t always be bad, Ms. Christianson,” Marco says politely, then nods. I hope he’s right. My upset stomach is a constant reminder that I may have made the biggest mistake of my life thinking I could make it in a market this size. I’m a little fish in a big pond here. I feel defeated and I’ve been in Phoenix for less than a week.
Marco is a complete gentleman as we ride up the elevator together and he holds everything while I scramble to find my keys and open the condo door. He sets everything on my kitchen island while I search my clutch for some cash to tip him.
“Thank you for your help, Marco.” I pull five dollars from my clutch to tip him and he immediately pushes the money back at me.
“No tips, Ms. Christianson. It was my pleasure.”
“Lindsay,” I correct him.
“Glad to help you, Lindsay.”
“He might not take tips, but I will!” Jonah says from the open doorway.
“Mr. Murphy. Nice to see you,” Marco acknowledges and nods at him as he leaves.
“I’m not really in the mood for company tonight, Jonah,” I say, pulling a bottle of wine from the grocery bag and setting it on the granite counter. I shuffle through drawer after drawer, looking for a wine opener. I didn’t think to pick one up at the store. After coming up empty, I feel tears sting at the back of my eyes. Resting both of my hands on the kitchen counter, I drop my head forward and I breathe. Taking deep breaths in and out, I try to calm the nerves I feel bringing me toward a breakdown.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jonah’s voice is quiet, but full of concern. A lump begins forming in the back of my throat, not allowing me to answer, so I shake my head back and forth, a silent answer. “Don’t get upset over a wine opener. If you need a wine opener, I have one I can bring over.” He lets out a small laugh, his voice calming. I know he’s trying to cheer me up, but that’s when the tears spill from my eyes. I swat at the traitorous tears that roll down my cheeks, angry that I let myself get emotional.
“I’ll be right back. I’m going to go get a wine opener from next door.” Jonah hurries to the door, giving me some privacy. I kick off my pumps and my aching feet begin to relax against the cool, wooden floor. Traipsing across the living room, I begin unbuckling my belt as I make my way to the bedroom. With each piece of clothing and accessory I remove, a bitter reminder of my day is torn from my body.
I stand in nothing but red lace panties and a bra and stare at myself in the full-length mirror. My long, blonde hair falls down past my shoulders in loose curls. My long arms have lost much of their definition and are starting to look thin—lanky. The red lace waistband of my panties sits below jutting hipbones. I haven’t seen my hipbones in a couple of years. Hello, old friends. Nice to see you again. Raising my arms above my head, I turn to the side and am still able to see some of my curves, although most of them are noticeably gone. Baby fat, I hear Amanda’s squeaky voice in my head, as I run my hands over my ribs and down to my stomach.#p#分页标题#e#
“Got the… wine… opener…” Jonah’s voice breaks when he finds me standing in my bedroom in next to nothing. “Sorry, the door was open, so I figured …” He pauses. “I’ll just be in the kitchen.” He turns away quickly, closing the bedroom door behind him as he leaves. I stop my fervent body inspection and pull on a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. I give myself a quick inspection in the mirror and head to the kitchen.
I find Jonah standing at the kitchen island, pouring a single glass of Riesling. His eyes are downcast, watching the wine slowly fill the glass. “Thanks for the wine opener,” I say, startling him. Wine spills from the bottle and splashes against the stone countertop.
“You’re welcome,” he says as he sets the bottle down and reaches for a small hand towel to wipe up the spill.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll clean it up.” I move toward him and tug at the hand towel he’s just picked up.
“I got it, Lindsay. Sit down and enjoy your wine.” His voice sounds as tired as I feel.
“Will you join me? I have more than enough wine and, clearly, I’m not planning to toss back three bottles of wine by myself tonight.”