Karma Kameleon. Stephanie Haefner

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      It took me hours to fall asleep, and when I did, morning came way too soon. It was just before eight when Preston started chatting up Mr. Penguin in his crib. Since he wasn’t screaming to get out, I tended to myself first. I used the bathroom and the bleeding had almost stopped. When would this thing be over?

      After a diaper change and a new outfit, since his diaper had leaked overnight, I placed Preston in his high chair and grabbed a loaf of bread. Rich was still asleep, and why wouldn’t he be? He’d slept in his own bed and it was Sunday. He had no reason to be awake and without the baby monitor squawking in his ear, there would have been no noise distractions to rouse him.

      Now, that wasn’t fair. I couldn’t help it. He still had me pissed off.

      I opened a cupboard door, for no apparent reason, and slammed it shut. After taking two slices of bread from the bag, I put them in the toaster slots and pressed the lever as hard as I could. Unfortunately, it made no significant noise. But I needed a plate for Preston’s toast, so again opened and slammed the cupboard door. Then I needed a butter knife–opened and slammed that drawer, too.

      What a little bitch I was.

      But none of it woke him. Truth was, I hated fighting with him and hoped he’d just get out here so we could hash it out and kiss and make up.

      It was almost nine by the time Preston had finished his jelly toast and cantaloupe. I cleaned him and set him in his play yard. Right away he grabbed the musical light-up guitar Rich had picked as a Christmas gift. The thing kept him enchanted for at least ten minutes.

      I walked to the bedroom, expecting to find Rich’s body under the comforter, still miles away in dreamland. But when I got there, the room was empty and the bed even made. I checked the bathroom–nothing. Back in the kitchen, I scoured the counters for a note or something that had gone unnoticed. Nope again.

      He’d left without a word? Not a way to get back into my good graces.

      Alone on a Sunday morning and clueless on what to do. Marcus and Kevin were bound to be home soon. Weather was supposed to be nice. Maybe we could go for a picnic or something. And if Rich missed it, oh well.

      Preston played contently, so I tried my hand at something domestic. I dusted the living room and vacuumed the kitchen with one of those rechargeable sweeper thingies. Next I wiped down the countertops and began washing the few dishes in the sink. As I rinsed Preston’s sippy cup, the front door opened. I knew it was Rich by the crash of keys on the foyer table. Marcus and Kevin always hung theirs on the hook. I kept my eyes on the dishes in the sink. No way would I give him the satisfaction of running and asking where he had been.

      He walked into the kitchen and I ignored him. Until he came up behind me and kissed a trail down the side of my neck.

      I sighed and used every ounce of restraint I had to stop myself from spinning around and pulling him to me.

      “I could hardly sleep last night. By seven o’clock, my eyes were wide open, so I went for a run. I never sleep good without you in my arms.”

      His hands curled around my waist.

      “You should have thought of that when you were rejecting me.”

      “I wasn’t rejecting you.”

      The anger bubbled up and I turned to him. “Then what the hell do you call pushing me away when I wanted to make love to you? No guy does that–ever.”

      “Not again,” he mumbled and rolled his eyes.

      “Yes, again. Until you give me an answer.”

      “I told you. I didn’t want to. Why isn’t that good enough?”

      “’Cause you’re a fucking liar.”

      “I’m not lying. Please just–”

      “Good Morning!” Marcus and Kevin burst into the apartment. Apparently their night had gone well.

      Kevin bee-lined toward us, left hand outstretched. “Look, look, look!” He wiggled his fingers.

      I smiled, putting my argument with Rich on hold. “You СКАЧАТЬ