Angel Falls (Angel Falls Series, #1), Babette Jongh [books for 6 year olds to read themselves .TXT] 📗

at the window, Ian hauled me by the arm again, this time to the edge of the building. He was seething, his anger barely leashed. The thunderclouds overhead looked meek by comparison. “House hunting with Ben? I must say, this happened mighty fast. Just a few weeks ago, you were under the covers with me. Having trouble making up your mind?”

His angry expression, his rough treatment, his mean words, turned up the heat on my simmering anger, making it flare out of control. I slapped his face. Needles of pain stung my palm, chastising me for hurting him on purpose, for being a bitch instead of the lady I’d been raised to be. My face flooded with heat. “Ian, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—”

He pulled me into his embrace.

The door to the realty office opened, and the woman drifted onto the sidewalk, a quizzical expression on her beautiful face. “Ian, I hate to interrupt.” She glanced down at the bracelet-style wristwatch on her slender wrist. “I really should be going, or I’ll miss my flight.”

Ian buttoned his coat, smoothed his tie. “The car’s unlocked. If you wouldn’t mind...”

“Certainly,” the statuesque beauty said. “But I do need to get to the airport soon. I told my husband I’d be on the next flight out as soon as we finished our business here.”

“I’ll be right there,” Ian promised. His voice was cool, neutral, businesslike.

Had I been wrong? I felt horrified and relieved at the same time. The combination of feelings turned my knees to mush. He still hadn’t explained why she was at his house that night wearing that sexy black robe. But it suddenly dawned on me with absolute certainty—I had been wrong, all along. “Oh, Ian. I’m sorry. I should’ve...”

“Trusted me?” A bitter smile twisted his lips. I reached up and laid my palm against the red mark I’d left on his cheek. He pulled away, just slightly, but enough for me to feel it. “Yeah, I guess you should’ve.”

“Ian, you have to understand how it looked... how I felt when I drove up to your house and saw her through the window. I couldn’t think of any explanation except the obvious one. I still can’t.”

He stood like a stone statue, arms crossed. My words poured off him like water off granite. Nothing I said made his expression soften.

I held my hands out, but didn’t dare to touch him. “You can’t blame me for taking what I saw at face value. You know you’d have done the same in my place.”

“Maybe,” he allowed, his voice low. “But I’d have given you the chance to explain.”

“I did give you the chance to explain, when you helped me find the boys, but then you—”

“You want to go there now? Really?” He looked at me like he hated me. His amber eyes were cold, his mouth a hard slash in his stony face.

I saw with sudden clarity how finding out that I’d gone to dinner with Ben that night must have felt to Ian. I thought about everything Meredith had said, about Ian not wanting to buy the house he was renting. About him putting the newspaper up for sale. Had all that happened before, or after, Ian had broken our date and I’d gone out with Ben instead?

“You’re right. I was being childish, and I’m sorry.” I put a hand on his coat sleeve, and he moved back just far enough that I had to let it fall to my side again. “Ian, please. I know I was wrong. But I still deserve an explanation for that night, don’t I?”

Ian took another step back and stood at the edge of the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, looking out toward the street. When he turned back toward me, his closed-off expression made my heart flop over. “You know what, Casey? I’m through.” He didn’t sound angry anymore, just very, very tired. “I was married to a woman who did her best to suck me dry. She demanded more than I could give, then manipulated me by withdrawing when I didn’t please her. I can’t do that again. I won’t.”

“Ian, please. I didn’t—I wouldn’t...”

“Yes, you did. That’s exactly what you did. I waited for you outside your house. I left messages begging you to call me. I felt like a goddamn stalker, the way I kept after you.”

God, he was right. The realization went through me, a rollercoaster of regret that bottomed out in the pit of my stomach. “Ian...”

I stepped toward him, but he put up a hand to stop me. “Tell Ben I said hello.” He turned and walked away, didn’t even bother to look over his shoulder at me. He just got into his car and slammed the door.

The roar of the engine and the crunch of gravel under tires assaulted my ears. I didn’t look up. I was looking down, imagining my heart at my feet, flattened as if it had been run over. I had no one to blame but myself and my stupid pride. I had thrown away something rare and precious. I stumbled to my car, fell into the driver’s seat, looked at the clock.

“Shit.” It was almost time to pick up Amy. I’d have to fly to get there on time. Past all those school zones. Shit.

Then, with a peal of thunder, a jagged fist of lightning zipped open the skies, and it poured rain.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

That evening, I did the fifty-thousand things I had to do for Ben’s kids, when all I wanted was to climb into bed with a bottle of wine and my dog and feel sorry for myself. But kids have a way of forcing you to get over yourself, so I stood at the stove, stirring the spaghetti noodles to keep them from sticking. Amy clung to my leg, absently patting my hip.

We got through dinner, word problems, and a science project proposal. I fed Lizzie, cleaned the kitchen, and tucked Amy into bed. When Maryann retreated to her