Page 160 of The Christmas Wife

"You need a drink," Homeless man drawls.

'Yeah."

"Or maybe two," he offers.

I roll my shoulders, "Sounds about right."Why not?Liquor seems to be the way forward. Days and weeks and months of pouring myself into liquid amnesia. At least, I am old enough to cope that way... Hadn't had that luxury in my teenage years when my brain had turned to mush after the incident. It wasn't until I had found my calling as a surgeon, that I'd found a goal in life, a way to ground myself and keep moving forward. Untilher—she is what makes it all worthwhile. Someone I can take care of, protect, share my fears, my deepest desires... Someone with whom I can build a future. "Bloody fuck," I growl.Why the hell can't I stop thinking about her?This is not good at all. "Not good."

"Women, huh?" Homeless man folds his legs under himself to sit cross-legged. I stare at his bare feet. There's something wrong with this picture. I frown. "Your shoes," I say, "what happened to them?"

"Got stolen." He raises his shoulders, "Shit happens." He scratches his jaw—which is cleanshaven? That's what it is. I glance down at his feet again. His toenails are clean and cut short, so I hadn't been mistaken. This guy is finicky about his grooming.

"Take mine." I reach for my shoe, tug it off and offer it to him.

He eyes it warily, then takes it from me and slips it on. "Imagine that; it fits." He chuckles.

I slip off the other one; he shoves his other foot into it.

The shoes do look good on him, actually. I tilt my head, stare up into his features. His eyes are clear...a glitter of intelligence in their depths.

"What happened to you?" he asks.

I frown, "What do you mean?"

He points at my middle finger in its splint.

"That?" I crack my neck, "Someone ran me off the road."

"The world's a dangerous place." He nods. "Gotta take care of what's yours."

I nod. "You're onto something there."

"Thanks for the shoes." He shakes his head and the bells at the end of his Santa hat jingle. "Merry Christmas."

"Sure. Whatfuckingever, man."

I rise to my feet. A man jostles my shoulder as he passes.

"The fuck?" I turn to watch him hurry into her apartment block. I frown. Clearly, this isn't my day. I turn to leave.

"You've got to see what's in front of your eyes," Homeless Guy calls after me.

I pause.

"When we two parted

In silence and tears,

Half broken-hearted

To sever for years,"his voice fills the space.

I turn on him.

He holds my gaze.

"Pale grew thy cheek and cold,

Colder thy kiss;

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