Page 86 of Worship
“Hello, Mama’s,” a thick Italian accent bleeds through the line.
“Hi Sophia, it’s Gretchen.”
The smile on my face touches my words. God, I love Sophia; she’s like the grandma I never had. So bossy and with zero care for my boundaries, but it’s all cloaked in love, so I never care.
“Ah, beautiful Gretchen. Why are you calling for dinner? You should have a man bringing you in and feeding you.” There’s a hint of laughter in her voice.
Here goes my routine shaming.
“I know, Sophia, but nobody loves me yet, so I’m doomed to walk the earth alone…” I laugh at theIncredible Hulkreference, quiet enough to keep to myself.
“You want the regular, Hulk?” she chuckles, and I start to laugh again.
“Yes, but extra calamari tonight.” Extra is reserved for when I need to eat all my feelings.
“Oh, today was bad?” she says sadly.
“Yes. Sophia, I need the calamari.”And all the wine.
“Okay, I send,” she says directly, yelling in the background in Italian.
It makes me think of Luca.
“Thank you,” I say as she hangs up.
Heading to the shower to rinse off my day and get relaxed, I roll my head side to side, hoping to relieve my stress.It’s going to get better. It has to.
Ten minutes later, I’m lathered, then rinsed, and more relaxed than when I started. I pull the knob to turn off the water and reach outside the warm steam to grab a towel.
After drying my body and tousling my hair, I step out and wipe a clear circle on my mirror so I can see myself. I look tired.Fuck, I feel tired.Shaking my head, I grab a brush and pull it through my hair and make my way out to get some clothes on.
My favorite boy shorts and a tank top do just fine, and I pile my hair on top of my head with a rubber band. I pad back out to my living room and turn on the television and grab the wine I left behind, taking a slow sip. I put on a docu-series about people who hoard and cuddle into my couch while I wait for my food.
My doorbell rings the moment Ellen, the woman with thirty-four frozen cats in her refrigerator, breaks down.
“Nobody likes cold pussy, Ellen,” I say to the television as I stand to answer the door.
I pull a few dollars from my wallet to tip the delivery guy and unlock my door, opening it wide.
“I’m starving…”
My eyes go wide at Luca standing in front of my door, holding my takeout.
I reach out slowly to take the bag and smack the cash into his hand, then step back, shutting the door in his face. His hand shoots out and stops the door, gripping the wood above my head, halfway to closed. He pushes it back open with raised brows.
“What are you doing here? And how’d you get my food?” I snap, turning around, angry at being ambushed.
Luca’s eyes take me in, and he motions to my body.
“Why the fuck are you wearing that? What if it wasn’t me at the door?”
His aggravated tone only makes me want to shut the door again.
I roll my eyes.
“Give me a break. Well, I’m sure the delivery kid has seen women…even if only in magazines,” I reply sarcastically.
I walk back a few steps to my opened door and attempt to close it again.
