Page 30 of All I Want for Christmas

She’d turned down every holiday party invitation, made excuses that sounded hollow even to her. She was brooding, she admitted, and it was entirely unlike her. But then again, she’d never had a broken heart to nurse before.

With Bob it had been wounded pride. And that had healed itself with embarrassing speed.

Now she was left with bleeding emotions at the time of year when love was most important.

She missed him. Oh, she hated to know that she missed him. That slow, hesitant smile, the quiet voice, the gentleness of him. In New York, at least, she could have lost herself in the crowds, in the rush. But here, everywhere she looked was another reminder.

Go somewhere, Nell. Just get in the car and drive.

She ached to see the children. Wondered if they’d taken their sleds out in the fresh snow that had fallen yesterday. Were they counting the hours until Christmas, plotting to stay awake until they heard reindeer on the roof?

She had presents for them, wrapped and under her tree. She’d send them via Kim or Mira, she thought, and was miserable all over again because she wouldn’t see their faces as they tore off the wrappings.

They’re not your children, she reminded herself. On that point Mac had always been clear. Sharing himself had been difficult enough. Sharing his children had stopped him dead.

She would go away, she decided, and forced herself to move. She would pack a bag, toss it in the car and drive until she felt like stopping. She’d take a couple of days. Hell, she’d take a week. She couldn’t bear to stay here alone through the holidays.

For the next ten minutes, she tossed things into a suitcase without any plan or sense of order. Now that the decision was made, she only wanted to move quickly. She closed the lid on the suitcase, carried it into the living room and started for her coat.

The knock on her door had her clenching her teeth. If one more well-meaning neighbor stopped by to wish her Merry Christmas and invite her to dinner, she was going to scream.

She opened the door and felt the fresh wound stab through her. “Well, Macauley … Out wishing your tenants happy holidays?”

“Can I come in?”

“Why?”

“Nell.” There was a wealth of patience in the word. “Please, let me come in.”

“Fine, you own the place.” She turned her back on him. “Sorry, I haven’t any wassail, and I’m very low on good cheer.”

“I need to talk to you.” He’d been trying to find the right way and the right words for days.

“Really? Excuse me if I don’t welcome it. The last time you needed to talk to me is still firmly etched in my mind.”

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“I cry easily. You should see me after a greeting-card commercial on TV.” She couldn’t keep up the snide comments, and she gave in, asking the question that was uppermost in her mind. “How are the kids?”

“Barely speaking to me.” At her blank look, he gestured toward the couch. “Will you sit down? This is kind of a complicated story.”

“I’ll stand. I don’t have a lot of time, actually. I was just leaving.”

His gaze followed hers and landed on the suitcase. His mouth tightened. “Well, it didn’t take long.”

“What didn’t?”

“I guess you took them up on that offer to teach back in New York.”

“Word does travel. No, I didn’t take them up. I like my job here, I like the people here, and I intend to stay. I’m just going on a holiday.”

“You’re going on a holiday at five o’clock on Christmas Eve?”

“I can come and go as I please. No, don’t take off your coat,” she snapped. Tears were threatening. “Just say your piece and get out. I still pay the rent here. On second thought, just leave now. Damn it, you’re not going to make me cry again.”

“The boys think Santa sent you.”

“Excuse me?”

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