"I was not offering." He dumped her none too gently on the rumpled sheets and tried not to wince at the clothing strewn on the floor.
"If it affects your delicate and ordered sensibilities, you can just leave."
Giving her a gimlet stare, he fluffed pillows and pushed her back. "Just because you lead a busy life, it does not give you the excuse to live like a pig. I'll be back. Don't move."
Folding her hands across her chest, she watched as he picked up clothing as he made his way out of the room.
She wasn't going to forgive him, she decided mutinously. She had spent yesterday and the days before hating him and wishing him dead. He was not going to come here playing white knight. It wasn't going to work. It didn't matter that he looked so achingly handsome in his black sweater and pressed jeans. Jesus! She shouldn't be in love with a man who ironed his jeans or had his housekeeper do such a dastardly act.
Who presses their jeans? Well, she was over him. He can just go straight to hell or straight to that blonde bimbo or whoever else. Her traitorous heart took a slow long dive as he came in with a tray. There was a pot of tea and some crackers and cheese. She had forgotten to go grocery shopping (what else was new?). But he had found something in the kitchen. There was also a small bowl of tomato soup.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he placed the tray over her lap and just brushed back tendrils of hair clinging to her face. "Eat." He ordered.
"I'm still not having sex with you." She muttered as she reached for her tea.
"Duly noted." His lips curved as he bent to kiss her forehead.
Chapter 12
It was Christmas and she was miserable. The days leading up to it had not been easy either. And here she was trying to convince herself that it was due to him not really talking to her. He had brought their daughter home, loaded with expensive gifts, tons of clothing that she would not be wearing for now, and a gold necklace with a cross-heart-shaped locket. He told her that Zoe had insisted on having it. Like she did not know her own daughter.
He had taken her back that Sunday night and was polite and distant, reserving the warmth for Zoe. Fortunately, the little girl had been too hyped and busy greeting her grandparents to notice the tension surrounding her parents. He had carried Zoe upstairs to her room and sat on the edge of her sturdy pink and white bed, which should have had him looking ridiculous, but it seemed just right. He had stayed with her, listening to her chatter before telling her goodnight.
It had not helped that Zoe had clung to him with tears in her eyes, demanding to know when she could be with him and his family again. He had lifted his head and sent Abigail an enquiring glance that had her committing to Zoe going back on the weekend.
She was losing her daughter. It shamed her that she had wanted to snap at the little girl to stop the incessant chatter about the Tyrells and how they treated her.
For the past few weekends leading up to Christmas, he had come to pick her up and made sure to call every night to talk. Sometimes Zoe would have him on the phone for more than half an hour, and he didn't seem to mind. They alternated nights, where he would read to her from a book of her choosing.
The bond between them was unmistakable and she should be happy. That's what she was telling herself or trying to. The relationship between father and daughter was great. But between mother and father, it was just one of cool reserve.
If he had planned on punishing her for that awful night she threw his declaration back in his face, he was doing an excellent job of it.
She filled her days with the frenetic pace at work. It was the winter season and the days leading up to Christmas was their busiest. Not to mention she had added more activities to the packed schedules they already had to deal with at the bookstores.
A winter festival, where several authors give of their times to come in and tour the various children's homes to bring cheers to needy kids. A concert in one of the halls with a choir singing with the idea of bringing in more customers. Hot chocolate and book readings. It was enough to drive a sane person around the bend, but not her. Abigail loved the fast pace and thrived on it.
It also helped her to put a certain tall, dark and annoyingly handsome man from her thoughts. Until she goes home and had to face her daughter and was alone in her bedroom. Then thoughts of what they had done in his car, the words he had said to her would be back full force to torment her.
It did not help that she had seen a glossy photo of him with a stunning well-known actress at the gallery opening on Bowery Street. So, he had moved on, she thought bitterly. That meant nothing to her. It's not her concern. The fact that she wanted to do physical damage to the bitch, was beside the point. She could live with it.
She could also be happy that her brother and Jillian were now openly seeing each other and looked so happy together. Her brother and her best friend. It suits. She had her career and her daughter, well most of the time. Her little girl had a whole other set of family, and they seemed to dote on her. She would deal with that as well.
But right now, she could not think of anything other than she was finding it hard to breathe. Allergies were kicking her ass. She had insisted on the family leaving her to go to grams place for the usual Christmas feast, which would end with the party she, Abigail had worked so hard to put together.
Her mother and Zoe had wanted to skip going and stay with her, but she would not hear of it.
"I'll just take my medicine and go to sleep. Really, I'll be fine." She had further assured them that if she felt better, she just might hop in her car and make the trip.
"You've been working too hard." Her mother chided.
"That could be a factor as well. Have fun." She kissed her daughter on the forehead, admiring the lovely pink sweater her gramma El had bought for her.
Now she was sitting in front of the fire in the living room, having her own version of a pity party. Andre had also gone with Jillian, and she felt as if she was the only single person in the entire world. She should try dating again. It had not gone down well in the past, but she blamed herself for that. She had never been focused on having a relationship. Half the time she had gone on dates, her mind wandered to what she should be setting up for the bookstores. Or wondering if she had dealt with the advertising department on what to put out for the different season.
Several times, she had had to be nudged back to the conversation by the man she was having dinner with. It had become so bad, so frustrating that she had stopped dating altogether.
She need to get back out there. She was heading into her thirties. Not that she minded being single, but now that Jillian was no longer there with her, she was starting to feel all alone. Reaching for the box of Kleenex, she plucked out several and blew her nose vigorously. She had taken a warm bath and her medicine and was starting to feel drowsy.
