Page 18 of One Night at Christmas

“Ouch.”

They argued good-naturedly as the time sped by. All too soon, it was time to pack up and head to the airport. Everything inside Bryson would miss her for a long, long time.

Chapter Seven

Charon’s doorbell rang. She glanced down at the suitcase still sitting by it. Her first instinct was to grab the case and run into the bedroom. Instead, she stood there, feeling depressed when she had no right or reason to. She came on her period that morning, just a week after her Christmas date with Bryson. She had no business wishing she had gotten pregnant after their time together. That would have complicated things and caused her more pain in the long run. At the same time, it killed her to know she wouldn’t be having Bryson’s baby.

The doorbell rang again, and she sighed. All week she put Morris off, but now it was time to face the decision she had to make. The night before, she decided. She wouldn’t be with him. After one night with Bryson, if she got with Morris, she would be using him. He was a good man, and he didn’t deserve that.

Nervousness stirred in her belly, so she ran the suitcase into the bedroom. Afterward, with Morris banging on the door and calling out to her, she went to let him in. “Jeez, Morris, do you have to disturb the entire neighborhood?”

“I wanted to talk to you, and I couldn’t wait any longer.” He barged into the apartment, and she frowned after him. Affection stirred in her heart as she recalled what it was like dating him. He wasn’t a bad guy, a little impatient and sometimes self-centered, but weren’t they all?

He whirled to face her, but she moved past him, headed for the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?” Her offer was a delaying tactic. She didn’t want to face the battle of telling him she wouldn’t see him again.

He grabbed her hand before she could get far and tugged her around. She stumbled but caught herself. A week passed, and she wasn’t ready to let her body touch another man’s, even if it was Morris.

Wait, a week is not long!

If she wanted to be a skank, she would jump right into bed with another man—after her monthly in this case. That’s how women couldn’t figure out who the daddy of their baby was. Thinking of a baby, she sighed and pulled out of Morris’s grasp.

“Don’t get physical, Morris. I’m not in the mood.”

“You make it sound like I abused you.”

“Please, I would have chopped you off at the knees.”

“I waited a week, Charon.”

“And?”

“And…”

He paced. She noticed the square lump in his jean pocket. So he was back on that again, planning to ask her to marry him. Her stomach muscles tightened. This would be a battle.

“I’m not going to ask you to marry me again.”

“Huh?” She pointed. “I see the ring box in your pants.”

“So what?” He jerked the box from his pocket and slammed it on her table. She jumped despite seeing him do it. Her nerves were wound up too tight. Guilt over how she had treated him ate at her. She had trouble keeping it straight in her head so that she wouldn’t accept being with him as a “do right by him” attitude. A woman shouldn’t marry a man because she treated him wrong or because he loved her so much it had to be rewarded.

She groaned and sank down to the couch. Now her thinking wasn’t making logical sense. The decision to break things off in a more permanent way had seemed so clean cut the night before. No one else would do after making love with Bryson.

Morris continued to pace. She took in his handsome face with the smooth chocolate skin. From the looks of it he had gone to the barbershop before he came to her place and had his hair trimmed. The goatee and mustache looked neat. He’d wanted to impress her. She couldn’t help comparing Morris to Bryson. Morris didn’t lose per se, but she recalled with vivid clarity how Bryson’s tanned and taut skin looked and felt beneath her fingers. He’d been all hard sinewy muscle and perfection.

By comparison, Morris was also decently built. He kept himself in shape with the help of his job at a shipping company. He could be a little too angry and fussy sometimes, which was what usually led to their arguments, but he wasn’t a bad guy. Charon found him attractive, but she didn’t love Morris like she loved Bryson. Everything about Bryson drove her wild.

“I said I wouldn’t say anything,” he began.

She resisted groaning. This was going to lead to drama. She could already see it. “Then don’t. I’m not looking for an argument, Morris. You need to understand that I—”

“I love you, Charon.”

She ground her teeth.

“I know now that you don’t love me.”

Her eyes widened. “What did you say?”

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