Page 37 of One Night at Christmas

“That’s not—!” Charon stopped. She had no idea if what the lawyer was saying was true or not. All she knew was that the place was in Bryson’s name, not hers. Neither of them had found a problem with it since he arranged everything over the phone in a hurry. At the time, all she had cared about was coming with him to New York, to be with him at last. She couldn’t have anticipated this situation. “L-let me give Bryson a call.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Gretchen encompassed the room with a flick of her fingers. “Just pack up your things, and get out. I don’t care where you go, but you can’t stay here.”

Charon ignored her and went to grab her phone from her purse. Her hands shook as she dialed Bryson. The phone rang four times and went to voicemail. She disconnected and dialed him back. When he didn’t answer the second time, dread crawled up her back. Her eyes burned, but she wasn’t about to cry in front of these two.

She spun to face them. “As far as I’m concerned, I made my agreement with Bryson. He can tell me to move out if he wants to. Not you. So you can leave.”

Gretchen curled her lips in disgust and approached Charon. “You’re the one he’s wanted all this time. I knew there was somebody.”

Suspicions rose in Charon.

Gretchen looked like a satisfied snake. “You’ve been holding out for this? Some people will go to great lengths to have a stupid man pay their bills. Where did he find you?”

Charon held up a hand to stop Gretchen’s approach. She didn’t trust herself if the woman came too close. “You need to watch your mouth. Mine and Bryson’s relationship has nothing to do with you.”

“Did he tell you he’s going to divorce me?” She threw her head back and laughed, an ugly unattractive sound. “I own Bryson—so to speak. We are so entangled financially he would have to go broke to get rid of me. That is, if he wanted to, and trust me, he doesn’t. What Bryson loves more than anything is money, and I’ve helped him achieve his dreams. What can you give him? Sex?”

At the mention of sex, Gretchen quivered, and a tinge of fear came into her expression. It was gone as soon as it appeared, behind a mask of disgust. Charon could guess what that meant. If they were intimate, Gretchen hated it. The thought of any woman touching him other than her disturbed Charon. He deserved a lot better than this evil selfish witch married to him.

Doubts assailed her though. She already knew the truth of what Gretchen was saying. Bryson did love money more than anything. It encouraged her to know he loved her, but did he love her more than money? Would he be ruined if he tried to leave Gretchen? If he saw the possibility of that now that he returned to New York, maybe that’s why she hadn’t heard from him. He didn’t know how to tell her she needed to go back to North Carolina.

No, Bryson isn’t a coward.

“It’s obvious you don’t know him like I know him.” God, she sounded like a mistress, which she wasn’t. Not really. They hadn’t slept together since meeting up again. She had

made it clear she wouldn’t, and he hadn’t pushed.

“Ms. Cooper,” the lawyer interjected. “I’m willing to give you time to make other arrangements. You must understand that these—relationships—rarely turn out the way you expect.”

Charon felt sick to her stomach. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m not giving her any time,” Gretchen snapped.

“Mrs. Scott, it’s Christmas.” He had a heart after all, unlike Gretchen.

“So? I don’t care!” Gretchen flounced toward the door and faced Charon again. “Be gone by tomorrow morning, or I’m coming back with the police.”

Charon went still. She noted the pity in the lawyer’s pale eyes. He thought she was stupid and that Bryson had played her just to get what he wanted.

“I think there’s something burning,” he said and shut the door behind him as he left.

Charon stirred from her shock and fear and ran to the kitchen. She yanked the oven door open, and smoke billowed out. The smoke detector went off, blaring so loudly it hurt her ears. Naomi screamed. Meanwhile, Charon’s world came tumbling down to the ground.

Chapter Sixteen

Christmas Morning…

At one a.m., Charon sat on the living room carpet. Naomi had passed out at eleven, and Charon took her to bed. They managed to bake more cookies and kept from burning them. Then they laid out a plate with milk and cookies for Santa. Naomi claimed she would stay up to see Santa arrive, and Charon allowed it. After all, they might be on the street in the morning. In the end, her baby couldn’t hang.

Sleep refused to come to Charon. Her eyes burned. They were dry. She hadn’t even gotten an emotional release from crying. The tears refused to fall, even sitting alone in the quiet apartment.

She rose to pour herself something to drink. The bottle of wine was one she had intended to share with Bryson. After knocking back two glasses, she grew light-headed. She recalled that she hadn’t eaten much more than the cookies all evening.

“That bastard,” she moaned. “He should have said something to me directly. He shouldn’t have let her come. He tried to make me believe it was all about the money. I should have known no woman could be with him and not get jealous…”

No, Gretchen didn’t want Bryson. Even hurt and shamed, Charon could see Gretchen didn’t love Bryson or desire him. A woman like her couldn’t handle a man like Bryson. She probably weighed ninety-five pounds.

Charon giggled under her breath, and a small sob escaped. Maybe she would cry now. She waited. Nothing.

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