“Sorry, I…”
“I was just saying, you should spend Thanksgiving with me and Amelia. Ever been to Washington, DC, before?”
I shake my head.
“Amelia could show you around campus.”
“Mom,” Don sighs. “Even if Ididgo play for the Wizards—you think Carrie would get a transfer just to follow me?”
“That’s not what I was trying to say!”
“Sure it wasn’t,” he scoffs. “And anyway, you know the Campus Drivers go hard for Thanksgiving—if Carrie’s spending it anywhere, it’ll be at my place.”
“I’ll be in Cincy,” I blurt. “But it’s sweet of you to offer.”
His mom looks at me knowingly. “I’ll just have to find another way of getting you two to Washington, then.”
“And I’m sure you will.” Don shoots me a look. “Anyway, let’s get back on track, here. What did you guys think of my lasagna?”
“Delicious, son.”
Donovan beams.
“Yourlasagna?” I snort. “I have this vague memory of being there in the kitchen…”
“Hey, come on, babe! It’s my birthday—cut me some slack!”
“What did we say about you ‘babe’ing me?”
“She’s usually more relaxed,” Donovan tells the others. Threepairs of eyes are riveted on us. “She’s just a little on edge about meeting you guys.”
Don’s dad goes on an affectionate mini rant about his ex-wife, and I’m hooked. I can’t believe how these guys interact. Underneath that hardline exterior, the Cardinals’ coach has a great sense of humor, and I make a point of mentioning it.
“You’re so much funnier than your son. That’s comforting,” I add. “It makes me feel like it’s in his blood—maybe once he’s done with puberty, he’ll turn out like you.”
Everyone bursts out laughing. I even manage to coax a wan smile out of Amelia.Score!
Never mind, I spoke too soon. She scrapes back her chair and starts clearing the table, like she can’t wait for us to leave. That’s not going to happen, though—there’s no way we’re heading off until she and Don have their talk.
Ellen and Eric drift across the room, and I seize my chance to pounce on Don.Not literally.
“Go find her in the kitchen,” I whisper, elbowing him in the side.
“No.”
“Yes!” I hiss. “It’s now or never—you’ve got this.”
He turns to me. “It’s my birthday. You know—the best day of the year? I’ll do it next time we—”
“I didn’t come here to watch you cook lasagna and play the piano.” I frown. “Get your sorry ass in there and talk to her.”
“She’s gonna tell me to leave her the hell alone.”
“But at least you can plant the seeds.”
He sits there, motionless, and I’m disappointed.
He scowls at me. “What?”
