Page 24 of One Night at Christmas

The thought of a honeymoon was absurd. He and Gretchen visited a justice of the peace and tied the knot. Their witnesses were their lawyers. How pathetic was that, he wondered. No friends, no family. Oh he had family. His parents lived in Florida, but he encouraged them not to come. His dad agreed with his decision because he was sort of cut from the same cloth. His mom dreamed of grandchildren, and a marriage by contract didn’t seem to call for them.

Bryson considered the terms of the contract. Kids weren’t included. As he and his wife discussed their future, neither had considered kids to be on the priority list. Neither cared if they ever had them. Of course producing a child crossed his mind that night he slept with Charon, but it was just a way to hold onto her, to prevent her from cutting him out of her life. It was a passing whimsy.

“Damn it,” he grumbled under his breath and moved to the window. His office on the thirty-eighth floor overlooked the busy street below. The people down there scurried about in a hurry. He had a good view between a few shorter buildings, but the scenery didn’t distract him from visualizing Charon. He recalled her as she was four years ago—beautiful, sexy, everything he could dream of in a woman and nothing like his wife.

He winced, recalling Gretchen. Some might consider her to be attractive. She turned him off in every way. After their attempt to consummate the marriage, they hadn’t been intimate. She’d cowered at his size and refused to even try, said he was unnatural and if she’d known…well, he could guess.

The phone behind him rang, and he considered ignoring it. His habit was to face a problem head on, so he picked it up. That didn’t stop the bark of annoyance when he connected. “Scott.”

“Mr. Scott.”

Bryson pulled the phone back to check the ID. His world stilled. He pressed the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”

“This is Darrin Underwood.”

“I dissolved our agreement four years ago after you assured me Charon is fine and that she did indeed marry. Wait, she’s still fine, isn’t she? I guess you wouldn’t know.” He chided himself for bumbling over his words like a boy. “Why are you calling, Underwood?”

“Sir, you seemed to care a great deal about the young lady you had me look into.”

Bryson sank into his chair. When his fingers cramped, he realized he held the phone too hard. If he wasn’t careful, he might crush it. He willed himself to relax a little. “And?”

“It’s just luck, mind you, but I happened to look in on th

e young lady.”

Bryson ground his teeth. While he had hired a private investigator that came highly recommended from a friend, he got the sense that the man was money-hungry. His exorbitant fee was highway robbery. Bryson learned from him that Charon was safe and taken care of. He let that be enough. The investigator tried to push to keep himself on the payroll. Bryson didn’t go for it, and he hadn’t heard from the man until today.

“I told you, I’m not interested,” Bryson snapped. “It was enough for me that he accepted her and she him. What did you do, go back through your old cases, trying to stir up new business?”

“W-what? No, of course not.” Underwood gave a nervous chuckle. “I had a client who lived near where she used to live and uh… Like I said, it was luck.”

Bryson picked up on the words, just as Underwood probably hoped he would. “Used to live? Did she move—no, never mind. It’s not my business... I thought he bought her the house she dreamed of, the one in the country…” He trailed off, speaking more to himself than to Underwood.

“Well, sir, that’s the interesting thing.”

A dramatic silence. Bryson swore.

“How much is the information going to cost me?” Guilt stirred in Bryson. He didn’t want to make a habit of checking on Charon. His only desire was for her to be happy, but he wished that happiness included him and him alone. The thought of her being with that bastard ate him up. Over the last few years, he mastered those feelings and buried them. She made her choice, and so did he.

The investigator chortled with glee. Bryson could almost see the dollar signs in his eyes.

“Just my usual rate.” He named the figure.

“That’s higher than the last time.”

“Inflation, sir. It’s been four years. I understand if you’re not interested or you can’t cover it. Times are tough and with the holiday coming up, things are worse. Just the other day, I told my wife—”

“Enough.” Bryson pinched the bridge of his nose. He was becoming a bore with all the anger. It didn’t suit him. He liked to be happy and laughing. He’d been that way when he had her. “Tell me.”

“I know your word is as good as your bond, sir. Okay, according to what I could find out, she no longer lives in that little cottage, and neither does her daughter.”

Bryson gasped. “Daughter? She has a child?”

“Yes, a three-year-old.”

Bryson imagined the little girl looking just like her mom. Something shifted inside him. The little girl could have been theirs, but fate didn’t allow it. Instead, he would have a connection to her for the rest of her life. Well, they were married. He should feel happy for her and nothing else.

“What do you mean she doesn’t live there? Does he?”

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