Chapter Four

"Listen, I have to leave soon," Theresa spoke loudly over the constant, deafening drone of the vacuum cleaner her husband was using. "The bakery is swamped, and, to make matters worse, one of my girls called off this morning, so I'll have to cover her shift."

Turning the sweeper off, Ryan looked up at her, annoyance written clearly across his countenance. "Well who's going to finish getting the house ready for this ridiculous dinner you insisted we throw tomorrow if you're not here? I told you I'd help for a couple of hours, but that time's up. I have things to do."

"What could you have to do," Theresa dismissed him. "You're off for the holiday for the first time in years, so I wanted to take advantage of that and celebrate Thanksgiving with everyone I care about, and that includes you. That's why I'm throwing this dinner tomorrow, and, because you're my husband and you love me, you're going to get all the cleaning done for me, right?" She pouted her lips carefully, being sure to manipulate him through his guilt. It was the easiest way to get Ryan to do something for her.

"Whatever, Theresa," he disregarded her, his characteristically uncaring voice barely able to conceal how livid he was. "When you put it like that, it's pretty hard to say no, isn't it, but perhaps now you'll realize why I don't come home that much. It's not like I get to relax or rewind when I'm here. It's Ryan do this or Ryan do that…"

His voice faded off as he went into his office. The vacuum he had just been using remained turned off in the middle of the living room as he just ignored her protests behind him until her words were too loud to block out. Following him into his study, she finally regained his attention. "Do you think I just sit around all the time and do nothing when you're gone, Ryan," she asked him, equally as angry. "No, I not only run my own successful business, but I take care of this house….your house, our house, and make sure that you always have a clean place with clean clothes and good food waiting for you when you decide to grace me with your presence maybe once a month."

"You're the one always complaining that we never spend time together, Theresa," he pointed out with a faintly hostile tone to his voice, "but then, when I do actually decide to come home, as you pointed out, I have to get the house ready for a dinner with all your friends…people I don't even like. Do you even consider what I'd like to do for Thanksgiving before you plan these elaborate dinner parties?"

"I started making these plans months ago, Ryan," she argued, frustrated. "I'm not going to do this; I'm not going to argue with you about something that can't be changed now. I'm late; I need to get going. Are you going to do all the chores for me or not?" When he did nothing but turn his back on her, she walked out of the room in a huff, pausing outside of the doorway when she suddenly heard the noises of quick movement. For a moment, a brief, reassuring, beautiful moment she thought he was coming after her, that he would take her in his arms, kiss and hug her, apologize for being so cold, for always being away from her, for making his work his first priority, but as soon as she heard the tone of his voice, she knew her hopes were unrealistic.

"Hey," she heard her husband's voice greet someone over the phone. He never used that soft, caring tone when he spoke to her; he was always dismissive and short with her…his wife. "I needed a break….from cleaning, Theresa's idea of quality time, I guess," she heard him complain.

Great, Ryan, just great, Theresa mused to herself, frustrated and tired. Run to one of your buddies and complain about how big of a bitch your wife is. That's really going to improve our relationship! Balling her fists in aggravation, she walked away from his office door and continued down the hall which took her to the kitchen, to her purse and keys, and to the backdoor that would let her escape the reality of her unsuccessful marriage in the success of her career. It seemed as if her bakery was the only place that offered her any solace. There, she could run away from her problems into her work, lose herself in donuts, cakes, cookies, and bagels, hide from her own issues in those of her employees, cover the mess her life was becoming behind a smile and kind word to her customers. If only she knew her weakness and inability to face her marital woes was the very thing enabling her husband to further distance himself from her.

Ryan heard the back door slam and realized his wife was gone, that he was free to do and say what he wanted to while on the phone. Surprising her, he blurted out, "do you have any idea how much I've missed you these last few weeks."

Marissa laughed. "Feeling's mutual, and I was going to invite you to have Thanksgiving dinner here with Caity and I…though it's never a very traditional meal since neither of us can cook….but you're off this week, so I knew you wouldn't be covering the game. However," she continued, unable to help herself, "if something happens….either someone calls off and you end up having to cover the game or even if you need a break from your wife, we'll set an extra plate for you."

"And Caitlyn wouldn't mind me crashing your family weekend?"

"Oh please," Marissa excused his concerns, "she's been dying to meet the first real friend I've had in years, especially after I told her how we met."

Shocked, Ryan asked her, "you told her about the plane?"

"Well," she hedged, "not the entire story, just enough to show her how easily we connected. Some of what happened on that flight will always remain between you and me. It's too personal….too special to share." He could tell by the soft, shy quality of her voice that she was blushing. Knowing not only that they couldn't go there, couldn't discuss something that could never happen again but also that the memory of their one and only kiss could elicit such response from her, Ryan changed the subject.

"So what does a Cooper girls' Thanksgiving ensue," he quizzed her, curious and interested. "It has to be more entertaining than a formal dinner party where the men where suits and women dresses and I have to suffer through countless hours of small talk with people I really don't like or know that well."

"It is," Marissa reassured him, giggling at his dejected view of the holiday. "We sleep in until the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade starts, watch it while making fun of everyone who messes up, and eat donuts until we fall asleep again stuffed. After we wake up from our nap, we eat our favorite foods and just talk about anything and everything we can think of. Finally, that night, we have a special, Thanksgiving tradition, but I can't tell you about that. Only those who experience a Cooper girls' Thanksgiving, as you called it, get to know about that secret."

"I'll have to remember that for the future," Ryan commented, a smile flashing across his face at her adorable manner. "But listen, I hate to do this, but I've got to go. I know this was a quick phone call, but if you could see the list of chores Theresa left me to do…."

"No, that's okay," she shrugged off his concerns. "I understand, and, besides, I need to get ready to pick Caitlyn up from the airport anyway. Her plane gets in soon."

"Well tell her I said Happy Thanksgiving."

"I will," Marissa returned to him. "As for your cleaning, just do what I do. Put in your favorite CD, crank the music, and sing along with it while you clean."

"That's very Mrs. Doubtfire of you," Ryan responded, laughing along with her giggles.

"I am SO NOT letting you live that one down," Marissa teased, "but, anyway, like I said, if things get too miserable there, you're always welcome here. Talk to you soon, Ryan. Happy Thanksgiving."

"Happy Thanksgiving," he returned, his smile fading as he heard her phone click off. Sighing, he put his cell phone back in his pocket and walked out of the study only to return moments later.

He had not gotten the transfer to the Seattle market he had asked for the month before. There just weren't enough sporting events there to warrant a full time reporter assigned to the city, but his boss had granted his wish that whenever a job did become available there, Ryan would get it. Unfortunately, he was also a senior staff member, so he had holidays off, giving him no excuse to travel away from his wife for Thanksgiving. Throwing caution and propriety to the wind, he picked up the house phone and made another call. "Yes, I'd like to book passage on your next flight to Seattle, please." He would do what Theresa had asked; he would clean the house from top to bottom, but, when she returned to find the chores complete, he would not be there. After all, it was a holiday, he was off, and it was time he actually got to enjoy it, and that meant, spending the day away from his wife and in someone's company he actually enjoyed: Marissa's.

"Caity, can you get that," Marissa's voice called from the bathroom as she heard the doorbell ring late that morning.

"Sure," Caitlyn called out, climbing off the couch and walking with her head over her shoulder so she could continue watching the parade, "but I didn't realize you'd already ordered the take out. What, don't I get a say this year? Besides, we still have donuts."

Marissa, who was just getting out of the shower, was completely oblivious to her sister's questions, so she never answered. As Caitlyn pulled the door open, her interest still being held by the TV, she merely pointed towards the kitchen and waved her hand dismissively. "Just put the food down on the counter. Money should be waiting for you."

"I don't have any food," the male voice responded, chuckling, "and I had been under the impression that it would be provided for me if I came for dinner."

That got Caitlyn's attention.

"You're not the delivery guy."

"Last time I checked, no I wasn't," Ryan returned. "You must be Caitlyn. I'm Ryan….Marissa's friend."

Sticking her hand out to shake his, Caitlyn's face and tone of voice displayed her confusion. "Hi." For a moment, her hand still clutching his as she greeted him, she studied his face. "You're not gay," she finally blurted out, so embarrassed by what she said, she immediately withdrew her hand and slapped it over her mouth.

"No, I'm not," Ryan answered her, bewildered. "Why would you think that I was….did Marissa tell you I was?"

"What," Caitlyn asked, stumbling over her words, "oh, no, I just assumed you were. I mean, why would a guy who was in his late 20's, same age as my sister, who had instant rapport and chemistry with her not try to date her. I mean, have you seen my sister? So, because she insisted your relationship is and always will be platonic, I just assumed you were….gay."

"We're just friends," Ryan told her, "because I'm married."

Interrupting them and distracting Ryan from noticing Caitlyn's thoughtful and worried facial expression, Marissa emerged from the bathroom, walking down the hallway totally oblivious as to who had just arrived. "Who was at the door, Caitlyn," she pondered out loud. Dressed simply in a pair of track pants and a tank top, she was drying her hair by hand with a towel as she entered the living area. As soon as she saw Ryan though, the towel fell from her hands and she flew across the room, jumping into his arms and hugging him as tightly has she could. "I can't believe this," she exclaimed. "You came. You get to meet my sister and spend Thanksgiving with us…..right," she asked as she finally let go of him, pulling away, slightly worried. "I mean, you're not here just to work, right?"

"Nope, you can't get rid of me that easily. I'm here all weekend if you want me."

"I always want you," Marissa responded, her eyes growing wide with embarrassment as she realized how suggestive her statement was. Their eyes locked together, Caitlyn's presence completely forgotten, she continued. "I mean, I always want to spend time with you; you're always welcome here, you know that." Finally, to break the spell her sister seemingly was under, Caitlyn cleared her throat, only serving to further embarrass Marissa. "So, I take it you two have already met," she asked, motioning between her sister and Ryan.

"Yeah," Ryan acknowledged, "she thought I was the delivery guy. When you told me about your Thanksgiving traditions, you just said that you ate your favorite foods. You never said they were take-out."

"Well what else would we eat," Caitlyn finally rejoined the conversation. "I sure as hell don't know how to cook, and, if Marissa was in charge of cooking the meal, we'd end up with burnt cinnamon rolls."

"Hey," Marissa argued with her, "you can ask, Ryan. The last time I made those, they turned out perfect."

"That's because I was supervising," Ryan teased her, smirking at the rolling of her eyes. "But I see how it is. Your true motives for inviting me have become abundantly clear." Confused, Marissa just looked at him waiting for him to expand upon his statement. "You invited me up here for Thanksgiving hoping I would take pity upon you and your kitchen clueless sister and make you a proper, homemade dinner."

"Wait a second," Caitlyn interrupted him, "are you insinuating that you can cook?"

"My skills in the kitchen are passable," Ryan offered, smiling at her enthusiasm. "I might not be a professional chef, but I can put together a basic, Thanksgiving dinner. The only problem is going to be I doubt your sister here has any of the ingredients or supplies I'll need in her kitchen."

"Guilty as charged," Marissa conceded, laughing, "but there is a little market open a few blocks away."

"Alright," Ryan agreed, "I'll go to the store and pick up what I'll need to cook dinner, but you two are in charge of setting the table."

"Yes, sir," Caitlyn mock saluted, eliciting an amused smirk from Ryan and giggles from Marissa.

"Are we allowed to wear out pajamas or are you going to make us change into formal clothes," Marissa taunted Ryan. "Are you going to be a cool cook or demanding and stuffy like Theresa?"

"Pajamas are fine," Ryan responded, reaching in to give Marissa's cheek a friendly kiss. His actions caused her smile out of surprise but just made Caitlyn scowl in concern. "I'll be back in thirty minutes, tops," he promised, moving towards the door, "but while I'm gone, you two better not ruin your dinner by eating more of those donuts." Motioning to the half empty box of pastries in front of the couch, he laughed at Marissa's pout, closing the door behind him, leaving the sisters to their privacy.

"Go ahead and say it," Marissa demanded, turning towards her sister. "If you don't think I recognize the disapproving look upon your face, you're wrong."

"What are you doing, Marissa," Caitlyn asked, staring her sister down. "He's a married man. I assume Theresa is his wife's name." Marissa's hardened glare and flashing eyes at the sound of Theresa's name were the only answers Caitlyn needed. "There's more to the story about how you guys met, isn't there?"

"Yes, there is," Marissa acknowledged, "but it's none of your business. You're my little sister, and I love you, but there are some things that even you don't get to know about me."

"And what about, Ryan," Caitlyn pushed. "Does he get to know everything about you?"

"He knows what he needs to know."

"What about his wife," the younger woman persisted. "How much does she know about you? Do you think she even knows of your existence? Does she know that her husband is spending his Thanksgiving with you instead of her?"

"I don't know what Theresa knows about me," Marissa responded tartly. "Ryan's marriage is his personal business just as I have my own secrets."

"So I take it Ryan doesn't know about your job," Caitlyn deduced. "If he was really just your friend, Marissa, that wouldn't matter. A friend, someone who had no romantic feelings for you and whom you had no romantic feelings for, would not care that you're a…."

"Just stop it, Caitlyn, stop it," Marissa exploded. "Listen, I get what you're staying, and I understand why you're concerned…"

"You're damn right, I'm concerned," Caitlyn interrupted her. "You're my sister. It's my job to protect you, to stop you from doing stupid things. Continuing down this path you're taking with Ryan is stupid."

Sighing in frustration, Marissa turned away from Caitlyn. "I can't do that; I can't walk away from him." Her voice was low, reflective, one could even say slightly haunted in tone. "I know that we're probably blurring lines, that there are feelings and emotions present in our relationship that shouldn't be there, but I need him in my life." Turning around, she once again locked eyes with her sister. "Don't you get it," she asked her. "He's the first person I've ever felt this kind of a connection with, and if I have to hold myself back and just be his friend to keep that feeling with me, I'll do it. I don't care how much it hurts; it would hurt worse not to have Ryan in my life."

"And you have no hope of him leaving his wife for you?" Marissa merely shrugged her shoulders, helplessly, showing that she did but was not ready to confess said hopes. "I thought so." Taking the older woman by the hand, Caitlyn led her over to the couch and sat down beside her. "How long have they been married?"

"Eleven years," Marissa answered, her voice a painful whisper. "They were married young, when they were sixteen. He doesn't love her…not like a man should love his wife. He never has."

Needing to know more information, Caitlyn kept asking questions. "And how do you feel for him? How does he feel about you?"

"I….I care about him," Marissa answered truthfully. "I won't lie and say that those feelings couldn't develop into something more, but I won't let them. As for what Ryan feels," she paused to scrub her forehead in a distracted manner, "I'm not sure. I know he cares, too, but there are moments….."

"Moments when you realize that his feelings for you could develop into something more, too…if they haven't already?"

"I guess," the older sister admitted, letting a lone tear escape from her blazing, blue eyes.

"I just have one more question for you, but it's an important one," Caitlyn said. "If he doesn't love his wife and he's falling in love with you, why is he still married to her? Why doesn't he leave her, get a divorce?"

Shrugging her shoulders helplessly, Marissa answered, "he cares about her. Ryan's a nice guy, Caity, the nicest guy I've ever met. He doesn't want to hurt someone who's been in his life for so long. He promised to stay with her forever. It's hard to break that promise, to turn your back on more than eleven years of your life and start over again."

Standing up, Caitlyn moved her way towards the hallway and bathroom to take her shower. "Not if it's what you really want," she pointed out not unkindly. "Not if you're strong enough, like you are or I am, to make that decision and go after what you want in life. If you were the one who was unhappily married and had the opportunity to really be with someone you loved and who loved you back, would you stay in that relationship? Think about that," Caitlyn said as she finally left the room, leaving her sister upset and with a mind full of too many questions that had either no answer or the wrong one.

After her conversation with Marissa, Caitlyn had just sat back, occasionally entering the conversation when asked to, but mainly just observing her sister with the man she knew she was falling in love with. At first, Marissa had been awkward towards him; Caitlyn knew her questions and comments were plaguing her sister's mind, but eventually, her heart had won out, and she and Ryan had spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening, playfully flirting back and forth, making dinner together while Caitlyn watched television and listened into their banter and noticed their secret glances during the meal and the playful way they argued back and forth….just like a couple. It scared her to see her sister like that, so vulnerable to a man who was married and unavailable, but she had spoken her peace. Marissa was a grown woman; hell, she had raised her. Other than offering her advice and opinion, there was nothing about the situation that she could do except be there to support her sister in whatever decisions she made, to either stand by her in love or comfort her in pain. No matter what happened with Ryan or any man for that matter, it would always be the two Cooper girls against the world.

Dinner was over though, and the three of them had settled into the living room, Caitlyn sitting alone in an arm chair while Ryan and Marissa shared the couch, leaving a respectable distance between them. While she had been lost to her own chaotic thoughts, they had been bickering over the television.

"I think that the chef, as a reward for his hard work and delicious meal, should pick what we watch, and this chef would like to see the sports highlights. I was attentive and patient all day long, ignoring the games and allowing Caitlyn, since she seemed less than interested in what we were talking about, to control the remote, but now, I need to see who won."

"I understand that, I do," Marissa assured him, slyly reaching for the remote, "but, you see, if I let you watch Sportscenter, you'll ruin our secret, traditional ending to Thanksgiving. You do want to know what it is, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Ryan returned, playfully, grabbing the remote from her hands in the process, their bodies inching closer together with every movement, "and as soon as I see the scores, the TV is all yours."

Pouting, Marissa turned to him. "But you know how tired I get, how I fall asleep whenever we try to stay up late, so why don't you let you me watch what I want to, and then, after Caity and I both fall asleep, you can watch Sportscenter hour after hour until your little heart's content."

"Tell me what I'll be agreeing to watch first."

"I can't do that," Marissa argued, pushing him playfully away from her only to, unconsciously, scoot her own body closer. "It would ruin the surprise."

"If I give in though," Ryan pointed out, holding the remote just out of her reach, "what do I get out of the situation?"

"My never ending gratitude," Marissa answered, giggling at his disbelieving expression.

"I have a better idea," he suggested, "in exchange for control over the television tonight, I get to sleep in your bed."

That got Caitlyn's attention. Sitting up straight, she turned to look at her sister who was just sitting there, staring at Ryan, stunned speechless.

"No, no, no," he finally realized the mistake he made and moved to correct it. "I meant that because Caitlyn would automatically get possession of the guest bed, if you wanted to pick what we watch on TV, you'd have to give up your bed, let me sleep there, ALONE, while you slept out on the couch. I didn't mean," Ryan stumbled, his ears growing red, "obviously…we wouldn't, you know….um….just, here," he conceded, handing her the remote. "I give in; you win."

"Uh, thanks," Marissa mumbled, still unsure of what to say or do in the situation they were faced with. Standing up, she moved towards the television, and put a movie in the DVD player. Caitlyn noticed that when she sat back down, she was as far away from Ryan as she could be. Five minutes later though, as the credits had just finished being shown, Ryan had, once again, scooted his body next to her sister's.

Eavesdropping she heard him whisper, "I'm sorry. I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable, honestly, Marissa."

"It's okay," Caitlyn heard her sister whisper back. "But, just to let you know, there is no guest bed. Caity always sleeps in my room, while I take the couch. You can have it though, and I'll just make myself a bed on the floor."

"I'll take the floor," Ryan replied without a second though, reaching to take hold of Marissa's hand, but Caitlyn noticed her pull away from his touch. "Hey, you okay," he asked her, reaching up to turn her face towards his and away from the TV. "We're okay, right?"

Smiling at his concern, Marissa nodded her head, reaching her hand out and taking his in hers. Caitlyn winced at the sight, knowing that platonic friends did not hold hands during a movie in a dark living room. As the movie finally started, Ryan turned towards the TV and exclaimed loudly, "The Nutcracker, we're seriously watching The Nutcracker? Did you secretly hate my dinner or something and this is my payback?"

Before Marissa could respond, Caitlyn cut her off. "What, didn't you know that my sister loves this, Ryan? I figured, what with you two being such good friends, that this had come up sometime during one of your conversations. Plus, it makes sense, you know, because she loves to dance so much, but you already knew that, right?"

Marissa glared at her sister, knowing exactly what she was insinuating with her seemingly innocent questions.

"I didn't know that, Caitlyn" Ryan answered before turning to Marissa, "but that's something I would like to see, you dancing. I bet you're amazing." Reaching across the couch, Ryan picked up a throw blanket that had been tossed to one side, using it to cover up both he and Marissa. "I'll have to get you to take me out dancing, in a skirt, the next time you get back from vacation," Ryan teased her, his voice low and husky, making Marissa blush and laugh despite her best efforts. Noticing her sister's questioning gaze, she turned back to television.

"Yeah, we'll see about that," she dismissed Ryan's idea, "but stop talking. I don't want to miss any of this."

"Then neither do I," Ryan agreed with her, sending Caitlyn a glance before putting his arm around Marissa and pulling her to him to watch the movie together. After all, he thought to himself as the feeling of Marissa pressed up against his side lulled him into a sense of peace he hadn't felt since Halloween, there's nothing wrong with friends giving each other a hug…a really long hug. Somewhere during the movie, he faintly realized that Caitlyn had gotten up and left the room, her loud, angry stomps down the hallway telling him she was upset and mad, but he didn't care. It was Thanksgiving, a holiday, and he was spending it with his best friend….with Marissa. Not even her sister's disapproval of their friendship could lessen the joy he felt at that moment. For once, all his concerns were gone, Theresa, his marriage, his unhappiness; for once, he was living in the moment. Closing his eyes, just for a second, he had promised himself, he took in the sweet, comforting scent of Marissa's shampoo, burying his face in her loose, wavy hair, falling into a deep, dream filled slumber with the object of his fantasies held tightly in his arms. Best Thanksgiving Ever, he realized to himself. It was the last coherent thought he would have until morning.