The Millionaire Claims His Wife by Sandra Marton

situation.
    â€œWe wait until the kids come home,” he said, turning around and looking at Annie, “and then we tell— I tell them—that I should never have claimed we were going to give things another try.”
    â€œThe truth, you mean.”
    â€œThe whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Yes.”
    Annie nodded. She stood up and walked toward the kitchen. Chase followed her.
    â€œI suppose that will clear your conscience.”
    Chase eased onto a stool at the counter.
    â€œLook, I know it won’t be that easy, but—”
    He winced as Annie slammed a cupboard door shut.
    â€œUnfortunately,” she said, “it won’t do a thing for mine.”
    â€œIf you’re going to make another pot of coffee or tea—”
    â€œThat’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
    â€œNot for me.” He put a hand against his flat belly. “The last dozen cups are still gurgling around in my stomach.”
    â€œMaybe you’d rather have something else. Hot chocolate?”
    Chase’s brows lifted. “Well, yeah, that might be—”
    â€œHemlock, perhaps. A nice, big cup.”
    â€œThere’s no need to behave like that, Annie.”
    â€œNo?”
    â€œNo.” He stood up, went to the refrigerator and opened it. “Isn’t there any beer?”
    â€œThere is not.” Annie slid under his arm and slammed the fridge door shut. “I,” she said self-righteously, “do not drink beer.”
    Chase looked at her. “I’ll just bet the poetry pansy doesn’t drink it, either.”
    â€œThe...?” Annie flushed. “If you mean Milton—”
    â€œHow about some diet Coke? Or is that beneath you, too?”
    Annie shot him an angry glare. Then she stalked to the pantry door and pulled it open.
    â€œHere,” she said, jamming the can of soda at him. “Have a Coke, even though it’s only six in the morning. Maybe it’ll clear your head enough so you can come up with a plan that’ll work.”
    â€œI already did.” Chase yanked the pull tab on the can and made a face as he downed a mouthful of warm soda. “I told you,” he said, as he took a tray of ice cubes from the freezer, dumped some into a glass and added the Coke. “When the kids come back from their honeymoon, I’ll tell them that we stretched the truth a little for their own good.”
    â€œWe?” Annie said, in an ominously soft voice.
    â€œOkay. Me. I did it. I stretched the truth.”
    â€œYou’re stretching it now, Chase. Say it. You lied.”
    Chase took a long drink, then put the cold glass against his forehead.
    â€œI lied. All right? Does that make you feel better?”
    â€œYes.” Annie frowned. “No.” She looked at him for a long minute. Then she turned and stared at the coffee, dripping slowly from the filter basket into the carafe. “You lied, and what did I do?”
    â€œLook, I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish here, Annie, but we just went around with this, remember? I was the black-hearted horse’s whatever-you-called-me that started us on this path into the pits of hell.” He sighed, then laid the hand clutching the glass of Coke over his heart. “You want me to swear I’ll come clean? I will. You want my word I’ll make it crystal clear you didn’t do anything? I’ll do that, too.”
    Annie folded her arms over her chest. “But I did.”
    â€œDid what? God, I have been up for more hours than there are in a day, and my brain is starting to whimper. What’s wrong now? I said I’d tell Dawn it was all my idea. I can’t do any more than that, babe, can I?”
    Annie plunked herself onto a stool. “Don’t call me that,” she said, but without her usual fire. She sighed deeply. “You can’t tell her I’m not part of it because the truth is that I