CHAPTER NINETEEN
Her head was throbbing and the nausea was rising. She swallowed it and looked at the bedside clock. Seven-thirty. She turned over—Charlie was already up. Had he even come home? She tried to focus her memory—she’d drunk the whole bottle of champagne and fallen asleep on the couch. She woke up at two am, an old war movie on the TV, turned it off and made her way into the bedroom. Yes, Charlie had been there, she remembered now, huddled on the other side of the bed. If he was awake when she stumbled into bed, he gave no indication of it.
She got out of bed, threw on her robe and padded out to the kitchen. Charlie was dressed for work, standing at the kitchen counter making himself a coffee. He didn't look up as she came in. She walked up and stood right beside him, almost t
