Blushing Pink by Jill Winters Page B

the springs of which, she knew, wouldn't squeak all night. Talk about depressing.) "It was on sale... I just thought it would be cute."
    "Yeah," he said, glancing at the lamp on the nightstand. "It's nice."
    "Thanks, really? I just thought it would be a nice change. The yellow goes with the wallpaper well, I thought."
    "Mmm-hmm," he mumbled, and switched on C-SPAN.
    She kept smiling at him, beaming, really, as if this weren't a pathetic conversation, but he didn't seem to notice. A few moments passed before her smile evaporated, and her hand started itching to give him a good smack—an urge she'd gotten a lot lately. She was fairly certain she wouldn't act on it.
    "So... did you like the dinner?" she asked. "Mom gave me the recipe. I could make it for us sometime."
    "What? Oh, yeah, it was good," he said, still watching the TV. She looked up to see what was so damn enthralling. So news coverage of a soccer game is more interesting than me. Thanks, jerk. She plastered another smile on her face.
    Trying to inch closer without being obvious, she shifted her shoulder and just barely brushed her knee against his side. In response, her sullen husband remained stationary and unaffected. This marriage was getting to be hell on her ego.
    Sucking in a breath, she looked up at the ceiling, silently pleading, God, please make this man normal again, that is, if you're not too busy. Then she glanced back at Drew, and that was when she noticed him tugging at the collar of his T-shirt.
    He tugged again. Oh, no. He looked hot, constricted. A mental and emotional flag went up. Could he be feeling strangled? Short of breath? Oh, God, was he in pain?
    "Honey, do you feel okay?" she asked, suddenly concerned, and reaching for him.
    He held up his hand to stop her, but she ignored it. "I'm fine," he said.
    "Okay, it's just you look a little hot, or—"
    "Angela, I'm just getting comfortable. Can we not call in the National Guard on that one?" Then he settled back in on his pillows, and turned the volume up on the television.
    Frustrated, Angela sighed, and slid out of bed.
    "Where are you going?" he asked.
    "I forgot to take out my contacts," she replied, not even looking back at him. She went into the bathroom and flipped on the switch. The room filled with bright white light that always made her look pale and cellulite-y. Well, it didn't exactly make her look that way, but it never created a flattering pretense she could live with, so that was just as bad.
    She reached for her contact solution, and came across Drew's medication. She usually reminded him, but tonight she hadn't because she didn't want him to get annoyed with her. Now she was rethinking that concept. Could she really just take a chance that he'd forget? No, she loved him too much to take that chance—even if men were the most ungrateful creatures on the planet when it came to things like love.
    Angela emerged from the bathroom to find her husband still watching C-SPAN in silence. "Honey..." she said gently. "It's time." She had her hand out, open-palmed, with his pill ready and waiting, and a paper cup filled with water.
    She came closer in spite of his sigh. "Here," she said. "Do you want some more water? I can fill another cup—"
    He shook his head, and took the pill and cup. "Don't worry about it; this is fine."
    "Are you sure, honey? It's no trouble...." She motioned toward the bathroom.
    "I don't need more," he said curtly. Then he drank the contents of the minuscule paper cup, set it down on the nightstand, and hopped out of bed.
    "Where are you going?" she asked.
    He ignored the question, and headed toward the bathroom. He must have thought the sound of the door closing on her was answer enough.
    She just watched him walk around the bed, past it, past her, while her insides twisted with anguish, and her blood boiled with unspent emotion. Zoom and now he's gone.
    Pretty soon the only sound left in the room had been the deep voice of a C-SPAN anchor, broadcasting some