Walk a Straight Line Read Free Page B

debated for a second before she pressed the redial button. “Hi, Francine, is everything all right?”
    â€œIsn’t this Terence’s phone?”
    Wasn’t she Terence’s wife? “I—um—he’s in the shower—and I saw your number, so . . .” she rushed to explain.
    â€œThat doesn’t give you the right—just have him call me.”
    With that, Colleen heard the dial tone. Her brow furrowed.
    Terence came into the bedroom. He wore only a robe and used a hand towel to vigorously dry his hair.
    â€œWhy is your mother calling you on your honeymoon?”
    Terence tensed. “My mother called?”
    â€œYes, just now. What’s going on?”
    â€œWhy didn’t you let it go to voice mail?” he asked instead. Without waiting for an answer, Terence seized the phone from her hand. “Don’t answer my phone.”
    Colleen shivered at his harsh tone. “In my defense, I didn’t think it would be a problem if I answered your phone. It could’ve been an emergency.”
    Terence repeated with emphasis, “Don’t touch my phone.”
    Colleen didn’t understand, but she nodded her head. She turned away from him and moved to the edge of the bed. She felt the bed sink under his weight. Hurt, Colleen squeezed her eyes shut to hold the tears at bay. Who was this man?
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    Terence knew Colleen felt rebuffed by his tone. He ached to comfort her, but he needed this moment to gather his thoughts. He knew why his mother had called—but first things first.
    He heard another sniffle and knew he had to set things right. Terence reached over to touch Colleen’s arm. “Are you hungry?” No answer. Just an indrawn breath followed by an even bigger sniffle. He moved closer so he could tilt his head and see her face. His heart melted, and he flicked away her tears. No one should cry on their honeymoon, unless they were tears from passion.
    â€œWife, do you want something to eat?”
    She adjusted herself so she could look at him. Her thick lashes spiked, and dampened hair stuck to her forehead. Gently, he moved the hair away from her face. He traced a finger along the side of her arm and toyed with the frills on her teddy. “What do we have here?”
    Her stomach muscles tightened, but Colleen remained silent. The ruffles in front provided a thin covering. He pushed them aside and splayed his hand across her abdomen. He could rip the flimsy material with just a shake of his wrist. Terence wanted his wife, but knew he needed to return his mother’s call.
    He gave her a perfunctory pat, leaned in, and kissed her ear. Then he ordered, “Call room service. Get me the salmon dinner. I’ll be right back.”
    Expecting her compliance, he slid from under the covers and picked up his cell phone that had fallen to the floor. He took two steps before— Wham in the back. Terence spun around. What the—
    She’d thrown a pillow at him!
    Wham —another hit him in the chest.
    With a low growl, he warned, “Colleen, cut that out. That is just childish and frankly—”
    Wham . This time the pillow smacked him across the face.
    With two huge steps, he took her flailing hands into his. She stopped resisting as she realized her puny strength wouldn’t prevail. In a controlled, firm voice, he declared, “I’m going to talk to my mother; and then we will eat. We are not going to fight on our honeymoon. I insist.”
    Colleen huffed and stared him down for several seconds. Then, her shoulders relaxed and she apologized. That’s better, Terence thought. He crooked his head toward the menu by the phone and went to call his mother, whom he knew would be peeved. Five minutes was her maxim for a return call. He’d kept her waiting long enough.

Chapter Three
    With a whistle and a spring in his step, Michael left his Fifth Avenue Upper East Co-op located across from Central Park. He