Page 26 of One Night at Christmas

“I’ll get it,” Naomi offered.

Charon pointed at her. “Don’t you move.”

Charon inched toward the door. It couldn’t be Morris. Surely, he didn’t come to the motel when she wouldn’t answer his text. Then again, he didn’t know where she was. They hadn’t spoken since she walked out of the house.

She twitched the curtain aside and peered through a tiny gap. Her breath left her chest in a whoosh. The white man standing at the door might have his back to her, but she could pick him out anytime or anywhere, no matter how much time passed—Bryson.

She open

ed the door but didn’t step away from it to let him in. All she could do was stare. God, he looked good. Still sexy, muscular, and over the last four years he hadn’t aged a bit. Meanwhile she had bags under her eyes from not sleeping well most nights. The only positive she could say about herself was the few pounds she must have lost over the last few days from trying to conserve money on food.

“Bryson, what are you doing here? How did you find me? What are you doing in my state? Wait, you didn’t move out of New York, did you?” She looked past him to what was obviously a rental. “Where’s your wife?”

He smiled, and her heart skipped a beat. “Hey, mind if I come in out of the cold?”

She hesitated and checked on Naomi. Her daughter was busy stuffing macaroni into her mouth by hand rather than using her fork. What was Charon nervous about? She was pretty sure Bryson hadn’t shown up for sex, and he surely wouldn’t be caught dead staying at that motel.

“Um, of course.” She backed up. “Come in.”

He stepped inside, and the tiny room shrank even more. His sharp blue gaze settled on Naomi, and he seemed mesmerized. Naomi looked up, and her little mouth formed a small o. “Wow, you’re a giant.”

Leave it to Naomi not to be intimidated by his height and build. Neither did she bite her tongue when it came to saying whatever popped into her little head.

Bryson grinned and stooped beside her chair. He offered his hand. “Hi, I’m Bryson. What’s your name?”

Naomi planted a tiny hand in his, and he engulfed it in his palm.

“Naomi Cooper.”

He chuckled. “Good job. Can you read too?”

She bobbed her head in the affirmative. Charon laughed. “No, she can’t. Not just yet. We worked on spelling her first name, but she doesn’t know her letters yet.”

“Still, I’m impressed,” Bryson told Naomi. He winked, and Naomi blushed happily. She offered him a macaroni noodle with messy fingers, and he reached out to accept the offering. Charon tried to intercept. All she could think about was Naomi messing up Bryson’s expensive clothes and not being able to pay the cleaning bill.

“Um, he doesn’t want your food, Naomi. You need to eat it yourself. Go ahead before it gets cold.” Her daughter picked up her fork, and Charon turned to Bryson. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here?”

He grabbed a napkin she had swiped from a fast food restaurant and cleaned his hands while scanning the room. “I heard you were here, and I wanted to see you.”

“You heard?”

“I promise I wasn’t checking up on you, but…uh…”

He reddened, and she lost track of the conversation just looking into his face. Her entire being had missed him. How could the feelings still be so strong? Over the last years, she had buried the love she felt for him and refused to spend more than a moment or two remembering their time together. To do so would have been torture. Plus, she thought it might make her resentful of Morris and the life they shared. As it turned out, he was the one stewing.

“Sit down.” She removed a few clothes off one of the chairs at the table. “Would you like something to eat? We have plenty.”

He seemed to be about to refuse, and she didn’t blame him. Bryson must have eaten in some of the best restaurants in New York. He probably never had to budget or think about whether to eat less at dinner so he could have lunch for the next day. She stuffed down feelings of self-pity and focused on enjoying the sight of the best friend she ever had.

“Sure,” he said, surprising her.

“You really want some?”

“Were you offering to be polite?”

“No, I meant it, but…never mind. Okay, let me fix your plate.”

She hurriedly went about piling his plate with generous portions. Bryson was a big man, and he had always eaten a lot at each meal. While he removed his coat, she kept an eye on what she was doing. At the same time, she checked out his body.

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