Ellen.” Pat stopped her.
She sighed and met his questioning gaze with a nervous smile. “Yes?”
“I’ll be leaving in a few minutes. Have a nice Thanksgiving.”
Relieved that the subject of Reed had been dropped, she threw him a brilliant smile. “You, too.”
“Where are you having dinner tomorrow?” Derek asked, as if the thought had unexpectedly occurred to him.
Her mother was still in Arizona, her sister had gone to visit her in-laws and Bud couldn’t get leave, so Ellen had decided to stay in Seattle. “Here.”
“In this house?” Derek’s eyes widened with concern. “But why? Shouldn’t you be with your family?”
“My family is going in different directions this year. It’s no problem. In fact, I’m looking forward to having the whole house to myself.”
“There’s no reason to spend the day alone,” Derek argued. “My parents wouldn’t mind putting out an extra plate. There’s always plenty of food.”
Her heart was touched by the sincerity of his invitation. “Thank you, but honestly, I prefer it this way.”
“It’s because of Reed, isn’t it?” Both boys studied her with inquisitive eyes.
“Nonsense.”
“But, Ellen, he isn’t going to be there.”
“Reed isn’t the reason,” she assured him. Undoubtedly, Reed would be spending the holiday with Danielle. She made an effort to ignore the flash of pain that accompanied the thought; she knew she had no right to feel hurt if Reed chose to spend Thanksgiving with his “almost” fiancée.
“You’re sure?” Derek didn’t look convinced.
“You could come and spend the day with my family,” Pat offered next.
“Will you two quit acting like it’s such a terrible tragedy? I’m going to enjoy an entire day alone. Look at these nails.” She fanned her fingers and held them up for their inspection. “For once, I’ll have an uninterrupted block of time to do all the things I’ve delayed for weeks.”
“All right, but if you change your mind, give me a call.”
“I asked her first,” Derek argued. “You’ll call me. Right?”
“Right to you both.”
* * *
THANKSGIVING MORNING, ELLEN woke to a torrential downpour. Rain pelted against the window and the day seemed destined to be a melancholy one. She lounged in her room and read, enjoying the luxury of not having to rush around, preparing breakfast for the whole household.
She wandered down to the kitchen, where she was greeted by a heavy silence. The house was definitely empty. Apparently, Reed, too, had started his day early. Ellen couldn’t decide whether she was pleased or annoyed that she had seen so little of him since his return from Denver. He’d been the one to avoid her, and she’d concluded that two could play his silly game. So she’d purposely stayed out of his way. She smiled sadly as she reflected on the past few days. She and Reed had been acting like a couple of adolescents.
She ate a bowl of cornflakes and spent the next hour wiping down the cupboards, with the radio tuned to the soft-rock music station. Whenever a particularly romantic ballad aired, she danced around the kitchen with an imaginary partner. Not so imaginary, really. In her mind, she was in Reed’s arms.
The silence became more oppressive during the afternoon, while Ellen busied herself fussing over her nails. When the final layer of polish had dried, she decided to turn on the television to drown out the quiet. An hour into the football game, Ellen noticed that it was nearly dinnertime, and she suddenly felt hungry.
She made popcorn in the microwave and splurged by dripping melted butter over the top. She carried the bowl into the living room and got back on the sofa, tucking her legs beneath her. She’d just found a comfortable position when she heard a noise in the kitchen.
Frowning, she twisted around, wondering who it could be.
The door into the living room swung open and Ellen’s heart rate soared into double time.
“Reed?” She blinked to make sure he wasn’t an apparition.
“Hello.”
He didn’t vanish. Instead he took several steps in her direction. “That popcorn smells great.”
Without considering the wisdom of her offer, she held out the bowl to him. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” He took off his jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair before joining her on the sofa. He leaned forward, studying the TV. “Who’s winning?”
Ellen was momentarily confused, until she realized he was asking about the football game. “I don’t know. I haven’t paid that much attention.”
Reed reached for another handful of popcorn and Ellen set the bowl on the coffee table. Her emotions were muddled. She couldn’t imagine what Reed was doing here when he was supposed to be at Danielle’s. Although the question burned in her mind, she couldn’t bring herself to ask. She glanced at him covertly, but Reed was staring at the TV as though he was alone in the room.
“I’ll get us something to drink,” she volunteered.
“Great.”
Even while she was speaking, Reed hadn’t looked in her direction. Slightly piqued by his attitude, she stalked into the kitchen and took two Pepsis out of the refrigerator.
When she returned with the soft drinks and two glasses filled with ice, Reed took one set from her. “Thanks,” he murmured, popping open the can. He carefully poured his soda over the ice and set the can aside before taking a sip.
“You’re welcome.” She flopped down again, pretending to watch television. But her mind was spinning in a hundred different directions. When she couldn’t tolerate it any longer, she blurted out the question that dominated her thoughts.
“Reed, what are you doing here?”
He took a long swallow before answering her. “I happen to live here.”
“You know what I mean. You should be with Danielle.”
“I was earlier, but I decided I preferred your company.”
“I don’t need your sympathy,” she snapped, then swallowed painfully and averted her gaze. Her fingers tightened around the cold glass until the chill extended up her arm. “I’m perfectly content to spend the day alone. I just wish everyone would quit saving me from myself.”
His low chuckle was unexpected. “That wasn’t my intention.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I already told you.”
“I can’t accept that,” she said shakily. He was toying with her emotions, and the thought made her all the more furious.
“All right.” Determinedly, he set down his drink and turned toward her. “I felt this was the perfect opportunity for us to talk.”
“You haven’t said more than ten words to me in three days. What makes this one day so special?”
“We’re alone, aren’t we, and that’s more than we can usually say.” His voice was strained. He hesitated a moment, his lips pressed together in a thin, hard line. “I don’t know what’s happening with us.”
“Nothing’s happening,” she said wildly. “You kissed me, and we both admitted it was a mistake. Can’t we leave it at that?”
“No,” he answered dryly. “I don’t believe it was such a major tragedy, and neither do you.”
If it had really been a mistake,