Page 62 of Sweet Talking Man


Font Size:  

"I'm tired," she said, removing her arm from his grasp. ''And it's cold out here."

"Your hair's wet."

She raised a hand to the tangled mess. "Yeah."

He waited as though expecting her to explain it, but she didn't owe Cal anything, especially not an explanation of what she'd done with Leif tonight.

"Fine. But let’s go in.” She jerked her head toward the house, moving quickly. The porch light glowed, promising warmth within.”Did Alice Ann go home?"

"Yeah, she set the cookies out, but the guests were already in their rooms. One dude came to the library and borrowed a book.”

Abigail entered the warmth of Laurel Woods, inhaling the scent of the cookies and shivering against the warmth. "Getting cold."

"Yeah, look, I know things aren't good between us, but we need to try harder to be on the same team.”

"Just exactly what are you talking about?"

"Birdie's not happy about how we've been treating each other."

"For one thing Birdie is a twelve-year-old girl experiencing her first surge of hormones. She's not happy about much. Second of all, you forfeited your right to play on my team when you left. Understand?" She looked hard at her ex-husband. He'd covered the silver in his hair with dye that was too dark, and he wore a shirt that looked as if it belonged on a twenty-year-old. The rest of him was the same old Cal. She'd once loved him more than she loved herself, but he was unequivocally an asshole of the fifth degree. "Look, for Birdie's sake, I'm happy you're back. She's needed you-"

"I know. I screwed up. I wasn't fair to you or her."

"You have a chance to make some of that up to her."

"But not you?" His voice was soft, almost silky.

Warning lights flashed in her head. "I'm not part of the equation."

He smiled at her. "I get it. You're playing the ice queen and dating other men to make me jealous. You want me to suffer."

"Makeyoujealous?"Suddenly the chill was replaced by hot anger. "You think I'm playing a game? Dating Leif as part of some way to-"

"Everyone can see he's not your type. What else am I to think?"

Abigail curled her fist and thought about smacking Cal. It would feel so good to finally vent the rage she'd harbored toward him for these past few years. Giving him a smack for every pitying glance she'd received, for every smart-mouthed comment from her daughter, for every time she'd cried her self to sleep wondering what was wrong with her that her husband hadn’t loved her enough. That would feel so damn good… for a few measly seconds. Then she'd be angry she'd lost control. So she steadied herself inside.

"Leif and I are friends," she said, withholding exactly what kind of friends.

"He doesn't seem to be the kind of guy a woman's just friends with."

"I'm no longer your concern."

Cal looked as if he might argue but eventually he nodded. "You're right. Let's just try to get along better. Not because of Birdie, but because we're two grown people who can act decently to one another."

So now he was going to be a grown-up? He hadn't worried about doing the responsible thing five years ago."I've been a grown person for a long time, Cal. I was the one pulling the weight of parenthood while you were screwing Morgan on a beach somewhere, masquerading as a musician. You do not get to come home and pretend to be reasonable. You don't get to play super dad. And you damn sure don't get to tell me what to do."

Cal turned red. "I shouldn't have suggested anything to you. You like holding on to anger and playing the victim. So don't put yourself out, Abigail.” He jerked open the door and the cold rushed in, a reminder of what sat between them.

For a fleeting moment, her heart twisted, the old pain bubbling up and, along with it, the urge to apologize, to smooth things between them. She squashed it all down. Some habits were hard to break. Abigail wasn't used to hurting people. She liked to please. She'd been easy for Cal to manipulate. "I'll try to... temper myself. Because as you said, we're adults."

He paused, his gaze taking her in, dropping to her wrinkled shirt. In his expression, she could see the recognition of what she'd been doing earlier. In her anger with Cal, she'd almost forgotten.

Were her lips swollen from Leif's kisses? Were her cheeks flushed? Did she look like a woman well loved?

From the sudden awareness in his eyes, she figured she did.

"Thanks." But he looked hurt, delivering the wounded expression he'd perfected for times when he wanted his way and didn't get it. It was somewhere between puppy-dog sadness and petulant grumpiness.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like