She waited.
When she saw the doorknob turn, she wondered if she would have time to run out the front door and into her Cherokee. She was afraid to chance it, afraid Murphy would bolt once he was outside.
She froze when she saw the thick vinyl strips move on the doggie door. Murphy saw it, too, and let out an ear-piercing howl. Mo sidestepped to the left of the opening, skillet held at shoulder height, the carving knife in much the same position.
She saw his head and part of one shoulder. “Marcus! What are you doing coming in Murphy’s door?” Her shoulders sagged with relief.
“All the goddamn doors are locked and bolted. I’m stuck. What the hell are you doing here in my house? With my dog yet.”
“I brought him home for Christmas. He missed you. I thought . . . you could have called, Marcus, or sent a card. I swear to God, I thought you died on the operating table and no one at your company wanted to tell me. One lousy card, Marcus. I had to move out of my apartment because they don’t allow animals. I gave up my office. For your dog. Well, here he is. I’m leaving and guess what—I don’t give one little shit if you’re stuck in that door or not. You damn well took almost a year out of my life. That’s not fair and it’s not right. You have no excuse and even if you do, I don’t want to hear it.”
“Open the goddamn door! Now!”
“Up yours, Marcus Bishop!”
“Listen, we’re two reasonably intelligent adults. Let’s discuss this rationally. There’s an answer for everything.”
“Have a Merry Christmas. Dinner is in the oven. Your tree is in the living room, all decorated, and there’s a wreath on the front door. Your dog is right here. I guess that about covers it.”
“You can’t leave me stuck like this.”
“You wanna bet? Toy with my affections, will you? Not likely. Stick me with your dog! You’re a bigger jerk than Keith ever was. And I fell for your line of bullshit! I guess I’m the stupid one.”
“Morgannnn!”
Mo slammed her way through the house to the front door. Murphy howled. She stooped down. “I’m sorry. You belong with him. I do love you—you’re a wonderful companion and friend. I won’t ever forget how you saved my life. From time to time I’ll send you some steaks. You take care of that . . . that big boob, you hear?” She hugged the dog so hard he barked.
She was struggling with the garage door when she felt herself being pulled backward. To her left she heard Murphy bark ominously.
“You’re going to listen to me whether you like it or not. Look at me when I talk to you,” Marcus Bishop said as he whirled her around.
Her anger and hostility dropped away. “Marcus, you’re on your feet! You can walk! That’s wonderful!” The anger came back as swiftly as it had disappeared. “It still doesn’t excuse your silence for nine whole months.”
“Look, I sent cards and flowers. I wrote you letters. How in the damn hell was I supposed to know you moved?”
“You didn’t even tell me what hospital you were going to. I tried calling till I was blue in the face. Your office wouldn’t tell me anything. Furthermore, the post office, for a dollar, will tell you what my new address is. Did you ever think of that?”
“No. I thought you . . . well, what I thought was . . . you’d absconded with my dog. I lost the card you gave me. I got discouraged when I heard you’d moved. I’m sorry. I’m willing to take all the blame. I had this grand dream that I was going to walk into your parents’ house on Christmas Eve and stand by your tree with you. My operation wasn’t the walk in the park the surgeon more or less promised. I had to have a second one. The therapy was so intensive it blew my mind. I’m not whining here, I’m trying to explain. That’s all I have to say. If you want to keep Murphy, it’s okay. I had no idea .. . he loves you. Hell, I love you.”
“You do?”
“Damn straight I do. You’re all I thought about during my recovery. It was what kept me going. I even went by that Korean grocery store today and guess what? Take a look at this!” He held out a stack of cards and envelopes. “It seems they can’t read English. They were waiting for you to come and pick up the mail. They said they liked the flowers I sent from time to time.”
“Really, Marcus!” She reached out to accept the stack of mail. “How’d you get out of that doggie door?” she asked suspiciously.
Marcus snorted. “Murphy pushed me out. Can we go into the house now and talk like two civilized people who love each other?”
“I didn’t say I loved you.”
“Say it!” he roared.
“Okay, okay, I love you.”
“What else?”
“I believe you and I love your dog, too.”
“Are we going to live happily ever after even if I’m rich and handsome?”
“Oh, yes, but that doesn’t matter. I loved you when you were in the wheelchair. How are all your . . . parts?”
“Let’s find out.”
Murphy nudged both of them as he herded them toward the front door.
“I’m going to carry you over the threshold.”
“Oh, Marcus, really!”
“Sometimes you simply talk too much.” He kissed her as he’d never kissed her before.
“I like that. Do it again, and again, and again.”
He did.
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Copyright © 2004 by Kensington Publishing Corp.
“Santa Unwrapped” copyright © 2004 by Theresa Alan
“Maybe This Christmas” copyright © 2004 by Jane Goodger
“The 24 Days of Christmas” copyright © 2004 by Linda Lael Miller
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