The Millionaire Claims His Wife by Sandra Marton Page A

was.”
    â€œWas what?” Chase said, trying to keep his patience. He looked at his half-filled glass of soda, and wondered if there was more caffeine in it or in a cup of coffee. “I’m tired,” he muttered. “I need to lie down, Annie. I’m worse than tired. I could have sworn I heard you say—”
    â€œI did.” Annie put her elbows on the counter and scrubbed her face with her hands. “I said, I’m as responsible for this mess as you are.”
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous. I was the one who lied.”
    â€œAt least you’re admitting that it was a lie.” She sighed, scrubbed her face again and then looked up at him and folded her hands neatly on the countertop. “Dawn’s going to ask me why, if I knew you were lying, I didn’t say anything.”
    â€œWell, you’ll tell her the truth.”
    â€œWhich is?”
    â€œWhich is...” Chase frowned. “I don’t know what we’re talking about anymore! The truth is the truth.”
    â€œThe truth isn’t the truth. Not exactly. I mean, I heard you tell her that we’re thinking about a reconciliation. I could have said ‘That isn’t so, Dawn. Your father’s making it up.’”
    Chase felt a tightening in his chest.
    â€œBut you didn’t,” he said.
    â€œI didn’t.” Annie looked at him, then at her hands, still folded before her. “I kept quiet.”
    â€œWhy?” Her hair had fallen forward, curling around her face. He fought the urge to reach out and touch the soft, shining locks.
    Annie sighed. “You’ll call me crazy.”
    â€œTry me.”
    â€œBecause, in my heart, I knew it was the only way to get her to stop comparing herself and Nick to us. It was a foolish thing for her to be doing. Just because you and I—because we fell out of love, doesn’t mean they will, too.” She looked up, her expression one of defiance. “Welt?”
    Something indefinable swept through him. Relief, he told himself. Hell, what else could it be?
    â€œI won’t call you crazy.” He smiled. “But you’ve got to admit, you’re up to your backside in the murky waters of what’s a lie and what’s a fib, the same as me.”
    Annie nodded. “Well then, when they get back, we both admit that we fudged the truth and hope for the best.”
    â€œI suppose.”
    Annie’s mouth trembled. “Dawn’s going to be hurt. And angry.”
    â€œShe’ll get over it.”
    â€œWe never lied to her about anything, Chase. Even when—when we finally decided to end our marriage, we told her the truth.”
    Chase looked at his ex-wife.
    â€œWell,” he said carefully, “perhaps there’s another way.” He watched as Annie wiped her hands over her eyes. “I mean...” He forced his lips into a tight smile. “I mean, we could agree to go ahead with a reconciliation.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œNot a real one, of course,” he said quickly. “A pretend one. You know, spend some time together. Go out for dinner, talk. That kind of thing.”
    Annie stared at him. Her eyes were wide and very dark. “Pretend?”
    â€œWell, sure.” Chase spoke briskly, almost gruffly. “Just so we could look the kids straight in the eye and say yeah, we tried...”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œNo?”
    Annie shook her head. “I—I couldn’t.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    Annie struggled to find an answer. Why not, indeed? What would it take, for her to spend the week of Dawn’s honeymoon dating—pretending to date—her former husband? They could avoid pushing the buttons that stirred up old animosities and pain. They could shake hands, as if this were a business deal, and pretend, for their daughter’s happiness.
    But she couldn’t do it. A week, seeing Chase? Seven days, smiling at him over dinner? Seeing his