Daddy

He was going to drop her off when they got back, but when they got to her place, she suddenly looked at him strangely.

“I know this may sound weird to you, Oliver, but it's so lonely going home alone on Christmas Eve. Would you like to spend the night in my guest room?” They had met only two days before, and he had just shared Christmas with her, and now she was inviting him into her home, as a guest, not with the lust that Megan had shown, but with kindness and warmth and respect, and he suddenly wanted to stay more than anything in the world. He wanted to be with her, for tonight, for a week, for a year, maybe even for a lifetime.

“I'd love that, Charlie.” He leaned over and kissed her then, but it was a chaste, gentle kiss, and they walked into her house hand in hand, as she led him upstairs and turned the bed down. The room had a bathroom of its own, and she kept nightclothes and a robe for friends who stayed, and fussed over him like a mother hen, and then finally left him alone with a warm smile and a “Merry Christmas.” And he lay in her guest room bed for a long, long time, thinking of her and wanting to go to her, but he knew it wouldn't be fair to take advantage of her kindness now, and he lay there like a child wishing he could climb into bed with his mother, but not quite daring.

And when he awoke the next day, he could smell pancakes and sausages and hot coffee. He brushed his teeth with the new toothbrush she had left, shaved, and went downstairs in the robe, curious to see what she was up to.

“Merry Christmas, Oliver!” she called as he came through the kitchen door, and he smiled, watching her work, and two minutes later, she had a sumptuous breakfast ready. There were all the things he had smelled, and more, bacon, eggs, freshly squeezed orange juice, and coffee.

“Merry Christmas, Charlie. You may never get me out of here if you keep feeding me like this. This is some hotel you run.”

She laughed happily at him. “I'm glad you like it, sir.

And then, without warning, he leaned over and kissed her. But this time the kiss was more fervent than he had dared to let it be the night before. And when she pulled away at last, they were both more than a little breathless. “My, my, Oliver, that's quite a good morning.”

“It's in keeping with the quality of the breakfast.” He took two bites of the eggs, and then reached for her again, suddenly unable to stay away from her any longer. She was too good to be true, and he was afraid she'd disappear before his very eyes if he didn't grab her.

“Be a good boy, Oliver,” she scolded with a smile, “eat your breakfast.”

“I'm not sure what I want more,” he suddenly grinned like a kid in a toy shop at Christmas, “this breakfast, or you.” He looked up at her again with a broad smile. “For the moment, you're winning.”

“Behave yourself, or Santa won't bring you anything. Eat up.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Actually, he still thought Santa had put her in his stocking, and the studio head had been right, without makeup, with her hair pulled back, fresh-faced and clean, she looked absolutely gorgeous in the morning.

And after they were through, she disappeared, and came back with a little blue velvet box and set it down next to him, She had remembered it after church late the night before, and now she watched him open it with pleasure. It was a beautiful antique pocket watch, with a smooth, elegant face and roman numerals, and he stared at it in amazement.

“It was my grandfather's, Ollie … do you like it?”

“I love it! But you can't give me something like this!” He hardly knew her. What if he were a rotter or a cad, or she never saw him again. It didn't seem right, but as he tried to give it back to her, she refused to take it.

“I want you to have it. You're a very special man, and for me, this has been a very special Christmas. I told you, I always go home every year and this year I couldn't. And with all the people I know, there was no one I wanted to spend Christmas with here, except you … that says a lot … so that's for you … hang on to it … and remember this Christmas.”

He felt tears in his eyes as he looked up to thank her, and instead he pulled her closer to him, and he kissed her even more gently this time. She tasted of orange juice and pancakes and sausages, and smelled of lavender and violets, and he wanted to hold her for a lifetime.

“I'm crazy about you, Charlie,” he whispered. “Does that make any sense to you after three days? … excuse me, four now.” They had met on Thursday, and it was now Monday.

“No,” she whispered back, “and it scares me to death … but that's how I feel too, and I love it.”

“What are we going to do, acting like two crazy kids? I just met you, and I'm falling in love with you. And you're a famous television star, what the hell are you doing with me? What is this all about?”