Heartache Falls Read Online Free Page B

a snide observation or just filler because he didn’t care to talk to her?
    He lifted his robe from its hook and slipped it on. When he turned his back to her as he shucked off his swim trunks, the tightness returned to her chest. Theywere the only two people in the house. Since when did he feel he had to hide himself from her?
    Anger and despair swirled inside her, and she blurted out the question. “Did you sleep well on the couch?”
    His shoulders subtly stiffened as he belted his robe. He hung up his wet trunks, then turned and reached again for his coffee. He stared down at the mug and spoke with an apology in his tone. “No, I didn’t. I intended to come up, but then time got away from me. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
    She clamped her teeth against a sarcastic How considerate of you, dear . She was supposed to be making an effort here. “What were you working on?”
    “Just reading a brief.” He avoided her gaze and drank deeply from his mug, then crossed to the refrigerator. Opening the door, he gazed inside. “I think I’ll have an omelet this morning. Would you like me to make one for you, too?”
    Ali froze. Had he really asked that? She couldn’t eat eggs; she’d never been able to eat eggs. They gave her a horrible stomachache. Mac darn well knew that.
    Hurt sliced through her, a sharp, deep pain that lodged right beneath her breastbone. Ali shut her eyes, shivered, and shriveled. He knew eggs made her ill, but he simply didn’t think, not about her, not anymore. She was of no more consequence to Mac Timberlake than the puddles of water he’d left pooled on the laundry room floor.
    He pulled his breakfast ingredients out of the fridge. Eggs, milk, butter, cheese. He never glancedher way or gave any sign of listening for a response to his stupid, careless question. As had become the pattern of late for her, on the heels of hurt came anger.
    Fuming, Ali set down her coffee mug and left the kitchen without a word. Forget yellow. Never mind sharing a meal or conversation. She’d forgo her usual yogurt and fruit this morning, stop off at Archie’s and buy a hot glazed donut. And maybe a jelly donut, too. Shoot, she’d go for broke and add an éclair to her order. All that grease and fat and cholesterol. Yum. At least she’d enjoy her breakfast before it made her sick. That ought to make him happy.
    The thought wasn’t exactly fair. Ali knew very well that his offer had been thoughtless, not mean, but she didn’t care. That single question summed up all the slights and hurts of the past seven months and left her furious. Marching toward the entry hall, where she’d left her purse and keys on a console table, she paused at the door to his home office and stared into the room.
    Ali might have chosen the drapes, furnishings, and paint colors, but it had always been his space. Woe be the family member who invaded it without invitation or permission. She’d not had a problem with that. She’d always agreed that the room and its contents should remain off-limits to the children. Wasn’t she forever going in search of scissors that had “walked off” from her own desk in the den?
    “But it’s supposed to be your office,” she muttered, taking in the tableau. “Not your bedroom.”
    His shoes sat on the floor next to the couch, socks tucked neatly inside, the big, square pillow movedfrom the window seat to one end of the sofa, the afghan mussed and thrown over the back cushions. Like he’d just climbed out of bed.
    Ali’s temper rose. His sleeping downstairs was an insult. A slap in her face. The need to strike back at him was a living, breathing thing inside her.
    She stepped into his office. His inner sanctum— his new bedroom —and strode toward his desk. There she brazenly committed a sin of significant magnitude and booted up his computer. She opened the browser. With her pulse thrumming, her heart pounding, she typed in her favorite luxury retailer’s Web address, then navigated to