" He opened the door and exited the car, pocketing his keys. Then he walked to the kitchen door and stepped inside hoping to detect the unmistakable aroma of Ali’s homemade red sauce, which would mean that she’d felt compelled to concoct a peace offering. Instead, all he smelled was pine-scented cleaner. When Ali felt guilty, she cooked. When she was ticked off, she cleaned. “Great,” he muttered. “Just great. "
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