There are a lot of places I'd rather spend Christmas Eve morning than on a cold, snowy sidewalk outside someone else's home. I'd kill to be sitting beside a fireplace, drinking cocoa, wearing flannel pajamas and reading a book. Instead, I'm here, standing in front of my one-night stand's house, working up the courage to ring the doorbell and tell him I'm pregnant. I hate that term-one-night stand. It sounds so...