I'll Be Home for Christmas by Fern Michaels Page B

more nervous, certain the something he wanted to talk about was the engagement ring he was going to give her. She’d been expecting it, her parents had been expecting it, all her friends had been expecting it. Instead, Keith had taken both her hands in his and said, “Mo, I need to talk to you about something. I need you to understand. This is my problem. You didn’t do anything to make me…what I’m trying to say is, I need more time. I’m not ready to commit. I think we both need to experience a little more of life’s challenges. We both have good jobs, and I just got a promotion that will take effect the first of the year. I’ll be working in the New York office. It’s a great opportunity, but the hours are long. I’m going to get an apartment in the city. What I would like is for us to…to take a hiatus from each other. I think two years will be good. I’ll be thirty and you’ll be twenty-nine. We’ll be more mature, more ready for that momentous step.”
    The hot tea scalded her tongue. She yelped. She’d yelped that night, too. She’d wanted to be sophisticated, blasé, to say, okay, sure, no big deal. She hadn’t said any of those things. Instead she’d cried, hanging on to his arm, begging to know if what he was proposing meant he was going to date others. His answer had crushed her and she’d sobbed then. He’d said things like, “Ssshhh, it’s going to be all right. Two years isn’t all that long. Maybe we aren’t meant to be with each other for the rest of our lives. We’ll find out. Yes, it’s going to be hard on me, too. Look, I know this is a surprise…I didn’t want…I was going to call…This is what I propose. Two years from tonight, I’ll meet you right here, in front of the tree. Do we have a date, Mo?” She nodded miserably. Then he’d added, “Look, I have to leave, Mo. My boss is having a party in his townhouse in Princeton. It won’t look good if I’m late. Christmas parties are a good way to network. Here, I got you a little something for Christmas.” Before she could dry her eyes, blow her nose, or tell him she had a ton of presents for him under the tree, he was gone.
    It had been the worst Christmas of her life. The worst New Year’s, too. The next Christmas and New Year’s had been just as bad because her parents had looked at her with pity and then anger. Just last week they had called and said, “Get on with your life, Morgan. You’ve already wasted two years. In that whole time, Keith hasn’t called you once or even dropped you a post card.” She’d been stubborn, though, because she loved Keith. Sharp words had ensued, and she’d broken the connection and cried.
    Tonight she had a date.
    Life was going to be so wonderful. The strain between her and her parents would ease when they saw how happy she was.
    Mo looked at the clock. Five-thirty. Time to shower, dress, pack up the Cherokee for her two-week vacation. Oh, life was good. She had it all planned. They’d go skiing, but first she’d go to Keith’s apartment in New York, stay over, make him breakfast. They’d make slow, lazy love and if the mood called for it, they’d make wild, animal love.
    Two years was a long time to be celibate—and she’d been celibate. She winced when she thought about Keith in bed with other women. He loved sex more than she did. There was no way he’d been faithful to her. She felt it in her heart. Every chance her mother got, she drove home her point. Her parents didn’t like Keith. Her father was fond of saying, “I know his type—he’s no good. Get a life, Morgan.”
    Tonight her new life would begin. Unless…unless Keith was a no-show. Unless Keith decided the single life was better than a married life and responsibilities. God in heaven, what would she do if that happened?