He was in a hurry, she reminded herself. Otherwise, he surely would have said something sweet in parting, wouldn’t he? Come to think of it, Max had never said anything sweet to her in the past, so why would she think he would start now?

Since she had left her car in the Wheatleys’ garage, she took a cab to their house and then decided she might as well spend the night. Millie and Oliver wanted to hear all about her visit home. Ellie glossed over the horror that had taken place inside the Winston Falls hospital. She told them that Patterson was dead and that she hoped he was finally at peace.

Then she told them about Ava’s garden party, and by the time she finished, they were laughing so hard, tears streamed down their cheeks.

Millie kept saying, “Poor Ava,” and then she’d go into fits of laughter again.

After dinner, Ellie went up to her room and called Ava. Her sister, as cranky as she was, deserved a little sympathy.

Ava answered with, “What do you want?”

“Don’t be rude, Ava. Patterson’s dead.”

“I heard.”

“It would have been a wonderful garden party.”

Ava agreed and began to talk about the details for the wedding. “I didn’t mean what I said about staying away. I still expect you to be in the wedding.”

Ellie didn’t make any promises. She listened as Ava described the flowers and the music and even the table settings for the reception. Ellie knew what she was going to have to do, spend a fortune on another airline ticket, put on a black dress, and walk down the aisle for her sister. It didn’t matter whether Ellie wanted to or not; it was the right thing to do.

Once Ellie was back in her apartment, she became restless and out of sorts. She could go anywhere and do anything now that she wasn’t hiding from Patterson. There was only one little problem—she didn’t have the faintest idea where she belonged. And oh God, how she missed Max.

She went back to the familiar. Dr. Westfield patted her on her shoulder, which was an effusive gesture for him, and said, “Well done, Prod, well done.”

“Sir, now that I’ve won the Chapman, will you please stop calling me Prod.”

Because he was so happy about the money his department would receive, in a weak moment, he agreed. He also accepted the fact that she wasn’t going to sign a contract but would fill in for a little while.

“We’ll do week by week until you come to your senses and sign a contract,” Westfield said, always wanting to have the last word.

One week passed and then another, and still no word from Max. Ellie went though all the emotions: anger, frustration, misery, and anger again.

Addison texted her on a regular basis—they were becoming good friends—but the only comment she’d made about Max was that he and Ben were doing undercover work for what Ben had told her was a special project.

At least once a day, Ellie told herself she was over him, and she desperately wanted to believe that, someday, it would be true.

She threw herself into her work. It was late on a Thursday afternoon, and she had just finished removing a ruptured gallbladder from a knife attack. She was heading to her locker to change when she saw Carlos Garcia’s wife in the waiting room. She went in to say hello. The news was good, but Carlos had to go through a round of chemo before he could be released from the hospital. Ellie walked into his private room just as he was waking up. She was pleased to hear that his doctors were treating him so well. Amazing what a little blackmail could do.

Ellie was able to get through the days without thinking about Max, but as soon as she got home, he jumped into her thoughts. Sleep became difficult, a problem she had never had before. Misery. The word was synonymous with Max Daniels.