Thank God It's Christmas

Chapter 3- Las Palabras De Amor

The Same Day

Roger called me again just a few hours after he had brought me home from Freddie's impromptu party. God, this man was impossible, I thought.

"Ella, I'm sorry to bother you again. I wanted to see you. To visit you. I've only ever been to your flat twice. Would you mind if I come over tonight for dinner?"

"Wha- I mean, of course. I'm free. I don't know how to cook though," I replied.

"You can just order a pizza," he joked.

"Maybe I will, Mr. Taylor."

"I'll be there around 8 tonight. Just me, by the way. I'm not bringing John or Bri or Fred."

"That's okay."

"See you, Ella," he said, in that sweet little voice of his.

I took him at his word and ordered a pizza: pepperoni with black olives. A few minutes after the pizza guy left, Roger arrived in a black suit.

"Wow, you're fancy," I said. All I was wearing was the black skirt and purple blouse that I'd worn to Freddie's place.

"Ooh, so you did order a pizza!" His blue eyes lit up. "Haha, good evening, Ella."

"Why did you want to come over?"

"Because I like you. Plus, I wanted to surprise you with this." He pulled a little box out of his pocket and handed it to me. I opened it, discovering it was a slender gold chain with a round pendant. "It's an early Christmas present."

"Thanks, dear. It's lovely." I opened the chain's clasp and put it around my neck.

After our dinner of pizza, which seemed awkward due to Roger's elegant choice of clothing, we decided to sit on my sofa and talk some more. After a while, however, my face started to fall, and I heaved a deep sigh.

"What's wrong?" Rog asked me.

"Nothing really. It's hard to explain. I'm sorry, Roggie."

"Sorry for what?"

"For ruining everything. Just for you fellows having to go out of your way for me."

"You didn't ruin anything, love. We knew you were special. That's why we wanted to spend Christmastime with you."

"I'm nothing special. Just a medical student."

"If you weren't special, I wouldn't have invited myself over here tonight."

I blushed. Was Roger... in love with me? No. He was 37 years old, and I was just 22. He already had an ex-wife and children, didn't he? And a girlfriend? But whenever he talked to me, I could feel something in his voice.

"Thanks."

He wrapped his arm around me and rested his head on my shoulder. "I really like you. Really."

I looked at him, his eyes closed, his mouth smiling, slowly breathing in and out. Before long, he was starting to play with my hair like a kitten plays with yarn. Even in his mid-thirties, he acted like a child.

"What are you doing?" I asked curiously.

"You have beautiful hair. Has anyone told you that?"

"Not really." It was true. My long hair was a dark brownish-blonde, not particularly pretty.

"I'm telling you now." I reached for his free hand, which he clasped gently.

"I love you, Roger. Not really as a lover... More like a friend. A best friend." I giggled.

"Both, maybe." Then he pressed his lips on my forehead as he continued to stroke my hair. "Friends for sure."

We cuddled and talked for about an hour, then he said he had to go. As much as I didn't want him to leave, I was happy to be able to go to sleep that night with a big smile on my face. If tonight was so wonderful, I thought, tomorrow will be even better.