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“What are you doing?”
“Making scrambled eggs. F… for me,” she bluffed when he gave her a puzzled look. She had no idea how he liked his eggs. “Here. You finish this and let me get the toast started.”
She busied herself with buttering the slices of toast as they popped from the toaster while covertly watching him fry two eggs for himself. He slid them onto a plate and brought it to the table, along with her serving of scrambled eggs.
“We haven’t had breakfast together in a long time.” She bit into a slice of toast, scooped a bite of egg into her mouth, and reached for her glass of orange juice before she realized that she was the only one eating. Tate was sitting across from her with his chin propped in his hands, elbows on the table.
“We’ve never eaten breakfast together, Carole. You hate breakfast.”
It was difficult for her to swallow. Her hand clenched the glass of juice. “They made me eat breakfast while I was in the hospital. You know, after I got the dental implants and could eat solid food. I had to gain my weight back.”
His gaze hadn’t wavered. He wasn’t buying it.
“I… I got used to eating it and now I miss it when I don’t.” Defensively, she added, “Why are you making such a big deal of it?”
Tate picked up his fork and began to eat. His movements were too controlled to be automatic. He was angry. “Save yourself the trouble.”
She was afraid he meant the trouble of lying to him. “What trouble?”
“Cooking my breakfast is just another of your machinations to worm your way back into my good graces.”
Her appetite deserted her. The smell of the food now made her nauseated. “Machinations?”
Apparently he, too, had lost his appetite. He shoved his plate away. “Breakfast. Domesticity. Those displays of affection like touching my hair, rubbing my neck.”
“You seemed to enjoy them.”
“They don’t mean a goddamn thing.”
“They do!”
“The hell they do!” He sat back, glowering at her, his jaw working with pent-up rage. “The touches and sweet good-night kisses I can stomach if I have to. If you want to pretend that we’re a loving, affectionate couple, go ahead. Make a fool of yourself. Just don’t expect me to return the phony affection. Even the Senate seat wouldn’t be enough inducement to get me into bed with you again, so that should tell you just how much I despise you.” He paused for breath. “But the thing that really galls me is your sudden concern for Mandy. You put on quite a show for her last night.”
“It wasn’t a show.”
He ignored her denial. “You’d damn sure better plan to follow through with the maternal act until she’s completely cured. She couldn’t take another setback.”
“You sanctimonious…” Avery was getting angry in her own right. “I’m as interested in Mandy’s recovery as you are.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“No.”
“That’s not fair.”
“You’re a fine one to talk about fair.”
“I’m worried to death about Mandy.”
“Why?”
“Why?” she cried. “Because she’s our child.”
“So was the one you aborted! That didn’t stop you from killing it!”
The words knifed through her. She actually laid an arm across her middle and bent forward as though her vital organs had been impaled. She held her breath for several seconds while she stared at him speechlessly.
