to relax. S he used to have carefully set up rules about not drinking when she was alone ( I will not end up an alcoholic like my father ), but those had been rationalized away over recent years.
I need to sink myself into a hot bath . Even though it was hot outside, she needed heat for her aching muscles. Her trips to the gym were more frequent lately as she found things to fill empty moments. In the bathroom, an enormous, elegant basket filled with scented bath salts and aromatherapy oils awaited her. She lit two lavender eucalyptus candles and chose tangerine ginger Dead Sea bath salts to toss into the steaming water as it rose. She added a few drops of eucalyptus oil to the water; the oil reversed the drying effect a bath could have on her skin. There were no windows in the master suite’s bathroom, so when she closed the door and turned the lights off, the room was dark. She breathed in the glorious smell from the eucalyptus oil and felt her shoulders relax.
Eva ran her hand across the soft Plaza robe hanging on the beautiful antique hook, setting the matching slippers on the plush area rug beside the tub.
She tested the water with her toe. It was the perfect bath temperature—hot enough that you’d have to get in slowly; not too cool to lose its heat while yousoaked. The scents of the herbs and fruits from her candles and sea salts had blended perfectly. She placed her wine glass beside the tub and slowly sunk into the steaming, therapeutic waters that awaited her.
As she floated there, Eva’s thoughts continued to plague her. As much as she would love to push images of her life’s unfolding dramas aside and just relax and enjoy the moment, there was nothing like lying in a hot bath to clear your thoughts.
And then Eva started to cry. The darkness, the silence, the intense smells, the heat, the wine, but especially the aloneness in light of the discovery of her husband’s affair, just all hit her at once. She cried. It was the kind of deep, gasping cry that you couldn’t stop if you wanted to. It wracked her small body and she just had to surrender to it. Tears poured from her like the water from the gold faucet; they filled the tub together. She cried for not feeling like a good mother, not being a good wife. She cried from the stress of her job. She cried because her love life was so complicated. And she cried because at the end of the day, she just wanted to be happy.
After an hour of soaking and crying and wine, Eva managed to collect herself, splashed cold water on her face, and started getting ready for her dinner with Charles. She was starving, hadn’t eaten all day, and looked forward to whatever culinary treats he had in store for her.
She chose a pale blue short-sleeved Ann Taylor sweater and a vintage rust orange leather miniskirt she’d bought at Maggie’s shop. She wore simple square diamond earrings and a plain silver chain with a matching diamond pendant. Her husband may have been bad at many things, but selecting jewelry on holidays and her birthday was not one of them. She sprayed three puffs of Coach Poppy perfume into the air and walked through the small cloud. Her Sephora makeup was expertly applied; she was a fan of the brand and knew which color combinations flattered her hair and eye colors. Dark copper spiked Christian Louboutin heels completed the outfit. With her small stature she was used to wearing very high heels, but that didn’t make her any less grateful for elevators and the fact that she’d be dining in the building she was already in.
She exited the luxurious elevator at the main level of the hotel. She raised her head to marvel at the opulence of the architecture. It was no wonder the building had been chosen as a setting by F. Scott Fitzgerald for The Great Gatsby .
She stopped in front of the Palm Court dining room, because a “Closed for Private Event” sign greeted her. She tried the door. It was locked. A waiter instantly appeared beside her.
“Follow me,
I need to sink myself into a hot bath . Even though it was hot outside, she needed heat for her aching muscles. Her trips to the gym were more frequent lately as she found things to fill empty moments. In the bathroom, an enormous, elegant basket filled with scented bath salts and aromatherapy oils awaited her. She lit two lavender eucalyptus candles and chose tangerine ginger Dead Sea bath salts to toss into the steaming water as it rose. She added a few drops of eucalyptus oil to the water; the oil reversed the drying effect a bath could have on her skin. There were no windows in the master suite’s bathroom, so when she closed the door and turned the lights off, the room was dark. She breathed in the glorious smell from the eucalyptus oil and felt her shoulders relax.
Eva ran her hand across the soft Plaza robe hanging on the beautiful antique hook, setting the matching slippers on the plush area rug beside the tub.
She tested the water with her toe. It was the perfect bath temperature—hot enough that you’d have to get in slowly; not too cool to lose its heat while yousoaked. The scents of the herbs and fruits from her candles and sea salts had blended perfectly. She placed her wine glass beside the tub and slowly sunk into the steaming, therapeutic waters that awaited her.
As she floated there, Eva’s thoughts continued to plague her. As much as she would love to push images of her life’s unfolding dramas aside and just relax and enjoy the moment, there was nothing like lying in a hot bath to clear your thoughts.
And then Eva started to cry. The darkness, the silence, the intense smells, the heat, the wine, but especially the aloneness in light of the discovery of her husband’s affair, just all hit her at once. She cried. It was the kind of deep, gasping cry that you couldn’t stop if you wanted to. It wracked her small body and she just had to surrender to it. Tears poured from her like the water from the gold faucet; they filled the tub together. She cried for not feeling like a good mother, not being a good wife. She cried from the stress of her job. She cried because her love life was so complicated. And she cried because at the end of the day, she just wanted to be happy.
After an hour of soaking and crying and wine, Eva managed to collect herself, splashed cold water on her face, and started getting ready for her dinner with Charles. She was starving, hadn’t eaten all day, and looked forward to whatever culinary treats he had in store for her.
She chose a pale blue short-sleeved Ann Taylor sweater and a vintage rust orange leather miniskirt she’d bought at Maggie’s shop. She wore simple square diamond earrings and a plain silver chain with a matching diamond pendant. Her husband may have been bad at many things, but selecting jewelry on holidays and her birthday was not one of them. She sprayed three puffs of Coach Poppy perfume into the air and walked through the small cloud. Her Sephora makeup was expertly applied; she was a fan of the brand and knew which color combinations flattered her hair and eye colors. Dark copper spiked Christian Louboutin heels completed the outfit. With her small stature she was used to wearing very high heels, but that didn’t make her any less grateful for elevators and the fact that she’d be dining in the building she was already in.
She exited the luxurious elevator at the main level of the hotel. She raised her head to marvel at the opulence of the architecture. It was no wonder the building had been chosen as a setting by F. Scott Fitzgerald for The Great Gatsby .
She stopped in front of the Palm Court dining room, because a “Closed for Private Event” sign greeted her. She tried the door. It was locked. A waiter instantly appeared beside her.
“Follow me,
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