Rock Wedding (Rock Kiss #4) - Nalini Singh Page 0,51
up and individually dust each of her books as well as her bookshelves. Sarah had a lot of bookshelves.
She, meanwhile, had changed into shorts and a tee and vacuumed with a vengeance.
When he saw her getting ready to spray some cleaning liquid on her already squeaky clean bathroom tiles, he grabbed the bottle. “Wait a minute. This type of stuff has all kinds of chemicals in it.” He scowled at the laundry list of impossible-to-pronounce ingredients. “I don’t think you should use this. Just in case.”
Leaning slightly against him, Sarah looked down at the bottle with a worried eye. “Do you really think so?”
“Go. I’ll do it.”
When her face dropped, his wife obviously lost with nothing to occupy her, he said, “How about you make those egg-and-spinach things for lunch? I’ve got a craving for them.”
Her eyes lit up. “I think I have everything I need to whip up a batch.”
REFUSING TO NEUROTICALLY CHECK THE PHONE in her pocket for missed calls, Sarah concentrated on cooking the frittatas. They weren’t difficult to make, but she took precise care with every one of the steps, from blanching the spinach, to setting the oven to exactly the right temperature.
When Abe came into the kitchen a half hour later, having stowed the cleaning supplies and washed up, she pointed to the table where she’d just put a jug of fresh lemonade and a glass. “Thanks for doing that.”
Abe shrugged and poured himself a glass of the cold, refreshing drink. “It was pretty easy since you’re so hyperclean anyway.”
Sarah knew she was a bit OCD on the cleaning front, but when you’d spent time on the streets, cleanliness took on a whole new importance. At least she’d channeled her tendencies into a successful business. “What time is it?” It just slipped out.
“Just past noon.” Putting down his glass after finishing his lemonade in one go, Abe hummed a tune. “Tell me what you think of this.”
Butterflies erupted inside her at the slow, bluesy sound of his voice. Abe rarely sang on Schoolboy Choir albums, but she’d always loved listening to him when he mucked around at home. The sound sank into her bones, the lyrics wrapping around her, a man speaking of dreams that shatter under the weight of harsh reality.
“It’s sad,” she said after he finished. “But… it gets you right here.” She touched her fingers to her heart. “Did you write it?”
Abe shook his head. “David—in his pre-Thea period, when he thought he’d never have a shot with her. He and the others want me to be lead vocals on it.”
A smile took over Sarah’s face, her obsession with the phone pushed aside for the moment. “That’s wonderful.”
“There’s a reason Fox is lead singer,” Abe pointed out. “The man has serious vocal range.”
“Yes, but Fox’s voice wouldn’t work for this song.” Sarah could see exactly why his bandmates wanted Abe to take lead vocals. “You should do it.”
Abe tapped his finger on her kitchen table. “I’ll think about it.” A quick flash of white teeth. “I don’t want to become a showboat like Fox and Noah.”
Laughing at the old joke, she turned off the oven timer when it buzzed, then pulled out the tray with the frittatas. Abe helped her throw together a green salad, then the two of them sat down to lunch. Sarah tried to eat, she really did, but her stomach wasn’t in the mood to cooperate.
Abe’s dark eyes dropped to where she rubbed at her tummy. “You think it might be—”
Sarah interrupted before he could finish his question. “Just nerves.” She picked up her phone, stared at its mockingly silent face. “I’m going to take a shower.”
Abe didn’t attempt to stop her, and she spent twenty minutes in the shower, another forty minutes drying her hair and putting on makeup, before pulling on tailored black shorts and a short-sleeved top in deep orange, a thin gold chain around her neck her only ornamentation. When she padded to the living room on bare feet, she found Abe sitting on the sofa with his feet up, Flossie beside him.
The two of them were engrossed in a documentary about penguins.
And her heart, it went all mushy at the cozy sight she would’ve given anything to witness during their marriage. Fighting the soft, squishy feeling, she left them to it and walked into the kitchen with the vague idea of baking something.
The phone rang.
Sarah had it in her hand with no knowledge of having pulled it out of her pocket, but she