92 Pacific Boulevard - Debbie Macomber [13]
The scum.
The rat.
Christie had been convinced she was in love. Deeply, truly in love. Oh, she’d loved before, always unwisely as it turned out. She’d been married and divorced and had gone through a succession of men who all said they loved her…and fool that she was, Christie had believed them.
With James it’d been different; this time everything seemed right. But then he did what every man had done to her. He’d dumped her. He’d left her a cryptic message and taken off, and in the process broken her already wounded heart.
Well, no more. Never again.
Christie was finished with men.
Done.
She meant it this time. Loving someone, loving a man, simply hurt too much.
“Your car’s parked outside the Pink Poodle,” Teri announced, watching her closely as she moved about the kitchen.
“So?” Christie returned flippantly. Where she chose to leave her car was none of her sister’s business. The microwave made a beeping noise but she ignored it.
“So,” Teri echoed in the same sarcastic tone, “you’ve been drinking again.”
“What about it? My friends are there.” It wasn’t any big deal if she chose to have a couple of beers with the guys after work. A few hours at the Poodle helped break the monotony and fend off loneliness. Going back to an empty apartment and spending the night in front of the tube wasn’t much incentive to rush home.
“These guys are your friends? Yeah, right.”
“Listen, if you’re here to lecture me, then save your breath. I don’t want to hear it.”
Teri scowled. The way they were snapping at each other was reminiscent of the relationship they used to have. Over the past year that had improved, thanks in large part to James and to Bobby Polgar, Teri’s chessplaying husband.
Teri broke eye contact, lowered her head and sighed. She sounded either hurt or offended, Christie wasn’t sure which. But this reaction was so unlike her bossy forthright sister that Christie was immediately concerned.
“What’s wrong?” Various possibilities raced through her head. A complication with the pregnancy, or trouble with Bobby, or maybe the problem, whatever it was, concerned their younger brother, Johnny. Or—
“It’s the pregnancy,” Teri blurted out. She closed her eyes. “I get light-headed from time to time. I’m fine. It’s just that carrying three babies is taking its toll.”
Christie felt a jolt of alarm. “Something’s wrong with the babies?”
“No,” Teri said, gesturing dismissively with her hand. “It’s me.”
“You’re—”
“The doctor said my blood pressure would fluctuate and I’d have off days. Apparently this is one of those days and the kidlets are making sure I know they’re there. But it’s nothing to worry about.”
Despite her sister’s reassurances, Christie was worried. She shouldn’t have ignored Teri’s attempts to reach her. As a result, her sister had come in search of her. In every likelihood Teri had gone against doctor’s orders by leaving the house, and all because Christie refused to pick up the phone.
The coffeemaker made a gurgling noise, signaling that the brewing was complete. Christie grabbed a mug, inspecting it to be sure it was clean before filling it to the brim. She pulled Teri’s tea water out of the microwave and brought both to the table, along with an herbal tea bag, and sat across from her sister.
“All right, talk to me,” Christie said and sipped her coffee, gasping as it burned her lips.
Teri slowly breathed in and out, her eyes closed. “I blame you for this.”
“Me? What’d I do?” She did blame herself but wasn’t prepared to admit it.
“All…all you think about is yourself.” For a moment it sounded as if Teri was about to break into tears. Her voice quavered and her lower lip started to tremble.
Christie blinked. Teri was the strong, determined one in the family, and not usually given to emotional outbursts. Christie was the volatile sister—and this role reversal made her uncomfortable.
Whatever was bothering Teri, she couldn’t seem to get the words out.
“What did I do?” Christie repeated.
Teri fumbled for a tissue and blew her nose with an inelegant honk before