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Silence.
“Hello?”
She waited another second. “Hel—”
The caller hung up.
Huh. She placed the receiver back onto its cradle and absently played with the dial. The click, click, click as it spun made her smile. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d encountered a landline, let alone arotaryphone.
Simple things. She wanted to appreciate the simple things. With this new life of hers, she vowed to do just that.
Heading back into the bathroom, she disrobed and stepped on the scale. Ninety-three. Damn. Same as it had been at Doc’s earlier that afternoon.
“You need to put on weight, Alex,” Doc had kindly scolded. “Being under a hundred pounds is underweight for someone of your height. Let’s see.” He’d swiped to a different screen on his tablet. A grin, so much like Joe’s, had spread across his face. “Ah, yes. You measured in at five feet, one inch.”
“And a half,” she’d added. “That’s important.”
“Right. Five feet, one anda halfinches. Either way, you’ll admit that you’re below your normal weight, correct?”
“Yes, sir.” She’d bitten back a smile. Apparently, Joe had come by his interrogation skills naturally. “Usually, I’m at a hundred pounds. One-oh-five at the most.”
“And before your ex-husband?”
Though she hadn’t wanted to, she’d held his gaze. “One-fifteen. One-twenty.”
“Good.” He’d nodded and patted her hand. “Aim for that. I understand that you’re queasy and are having a hard time keeping things down—all normal for your first trimester—but keep eating. I want you to try to get back to the one-fifteen, one-twenty range in the next couple of months. Once you’re there, your goal should be about a twenty-pound additional weight gain for your pregnancy. For now, take your prenatal vitamins, keep hydrated, find what foods you can tolerate, and eat up. You start work tomorrow with Roxie?”
She’d nodded, a nervous smile touching her lips.
“Good. Eat, eat, eat, my dear. Tell Roxie that it’s the doctor’s orders.”
Looking at the bathroom scale, she shook her head.Gain weight. She’d never thought anyone would tell her to do that. With Preston, it had always been the opposite.
Throughout their marriage, there had been months when he’d weighed her daily, noting every fraction of a pound she had gained or lost. Yet another giant red flag she’d ignored.
If she had ever gone over 105, even by theslightestmargin, he had berated her.
The one time her weight had hit 110, she’d discovered his affinity for kidney punches. They were devastating, and the bruises remained hidden. When he’d finished teaching her a “lesson” about willpower and moderation, he had put her on a strict diet of celery, laxatives, and water for a week.
She’d never gone over 105 pounds after that.
Dressing in her cozy pajamas, she tried to shake off her mood. She knew she deserved to be happy, that it was okay to allow herself to move on. But there were moments, like this one, when it was just so damn hard. Harder than she’d ever thought it would be.
Her therapist had told her it would take time to heal emotionally, that it would often be one step forward and nine steps back. That the doubts and self-loathing would be some of the biggest hurdles. Now, Alex was finding out how true that wisdom was.
One moment, she would be embracing her fresh start, enjoying her new friends and town, and the next—bam!—something would trigger her, reminding her of Preston. Then, just like that, a devastating, drop-you-to-your-knees shame would engulf her, making her want to crawl into a dark cave and disappear.
She swiped away a few renegade tears as she climbed into bed.
Please let this get easier. Please.
One day at a time. That was all she could do.
But ithadto get easier. It had to...
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Wearing her Comfort Food apron, Alex stood next to Roxie, notepad in hand, pen racing over a fresh page.
