Glazed by Ranae Rose

lowering his now half-empty glass.
     
    “Alright,” she replied, shoving away thoughts of Derek and her disappointment over the building. No way was she going to share either of those losses with Peter. He’d only make her feel worse, if that was even possible. “I’m still working at the steakhouse and planning on opening my café.”
     
    “You’re still into that?” he asked, shooting her a wide-eyed glance.
     
    She narrowed her eyes at him, feeling a familiar spark of annoyance. “Yes.” She lifted her glass to her lips as she braced herself for the coming deluge of scorn and doubt. A part of her wanted to hear it, wanted to tell Peter that she didn’t give a crap what he thought. She’d spent the entire day doubting herself and didn’t need to hear him echo her own fears.
     
    He threw his free hand up in a defensive gesture. “Hey, no offense. I just figured you’d have lost enthusiasm by now.”
     
    She realized she was squeezing her wine glass and hastily loosened her grip, afraid the slender handle would snap. “Nope. Still focused on my lifelong dream.”
     
    He shrugged and took another sip of wine. “Well if you’re still going after all this time, I guess you’re bound to open the place after all.”
     
    She tilted her glass up, taking in a mouthful of pleasantly bitter-sweet liquid as she contemplated what amounted to a rare and unexpected compliment, coming from him. “Thanks.”
     
    “How about another glass?” he asked, raising his into the air, revealing it to be empty.
     
    She looked down at her own. Had she really drained most of the wine already? “All right.”
     
    Her head buzzed faintly as she drifted back to the kitchen, and she realized that the only thing she’d eaten all day had been a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which she’d made out of habit sometime around noon. It was nearly six o’clock now, and the wine had zoomed straight through her empty stomach and into her bloodstream. She couldn’t bring herself to regret her carelessness – the feeling of vaguely giddy light-headedness seemed preferable to the misery that’d been weighing her down all day.
     
    She emptied the rest of the wine bottle, dividing its remaining contents among the two glasses, and returned to the living room.
     
    “Do you like it?” Peter asked, watching her raise her glass to her lips.
     
    Light-headed as she was, it took her a moment to realize what he meant. “Oh. The wine. Yeah, it’s really good.”
     
    He nodded, apparently satisfied. “I thought you would. You always did like sweet red wines.”
     
    “Where did you get it?” she asked. She hadn’t recognized the label.
     
    “At a wine festival in – oh, shit!” He glared down at his right arm, where a large burgundy stain was spreading, courtesy of the wine that’d sloshed over the side of his glass and onto his sleeve.
     
    “Shit,” Kelly echoed, mostly because a large red spot had also appeared on her beige couch cushion.
     
    “Sorry,” he said, standing abruptly and glaring down at every near piece of clothing and furniture. “I’ll reimburse you for the couch before I leave, I promise.”
     
    She stared down at the cushion and started to say that she might be able to get the stain out, but thought better of it. The dark crimson liquid had already soaked into the fabric and she doubted that even the most diligent scrubbing would remove it. His clothing, on the other hand, might be salvageable. “Give me your shirt. The wine should come out if a stain-remover is applied right away.”
     
    He hurried to unbutton his shirt, stripping down to the white cotton tank he wore beneath, and handed it over to her when he was done. She took it back to the bathroom, where a folding door opened into a laundry nook. After applying her strongest stain remover and allowing it to set for several minutes, she tossed the garment into the washing machine. When she turned around she was surprised to find herself