Stepping off the escalator, Allie found herself directly in front of the glass display of decadence. Her mouth watered at the sight of the molten lava cake and crème brûlée. No way, she thought. The liquid calories she planned to consume would be bad enough. Her thighs certainly didn’t need a few beignets tossed into the mix. With the hours she’d been putting in at Ingram, gym time had grown scarce. And while she was comfortable with her curves, her recent dependence on comfort foods had to stop.
“One for dinner?” the hostess asked.
One for dinner. Were there three more depressing words in the English language? Maybe when followed by “alone at the office.” And although lately that seemed to be the case most nights for Allie, at least on this Thursday night it wasn’t.
“No, actually, I’m meeting someone.” The words had no sooner left her mouth when she caught sight of Harper, her head thrown back midlaugh. “And looks like I just found her.”
Allie made her way to the bar where Harper sat perched on a stool. She wore a purple sweater with a white Peter Pan collar and cuffs, perfectly paired with a whimsical black-and-white polka-dot skirt. The black patent leather Mary Jane pumps seemed almost understated, but they nicely offset the black tights inscribed with literary quotes that ran the length of her leg. Allie thought of the clothing she wore beneath her coat: a conservative black pencil skirt and a white wrap-front blouse. The only things daring about her outfit were the black garter and lace-top stockings hidden underneath. For the life of her, she had no idea why she wore them. It wasn’t like anyone was going to see them. But they’d caught her eye in the drawer when she’d been getting dressed that morning and thoughts of Hudson, teasing her about wearing them on the back of his bike, made her all at once so angry and aroused that she’d put them on in some sort of defiant fit that seemed rather silly now.
As she grew closer, she heard Harper chatting away in an animated voice. “And that is why you will never catch me anywhere near the circus. Ever.” She gave an exaggerated shudder that made her red curls sway from side to side.
“Hey there,” Allie said. “Sorry if you were waiting long.”
“Not at all. And it gave me time to get to know Vince here,” she said, lifting her glass to the bartender and smiling. “He makes a killer pear martini.” A moment later the pager on the bar top began to vibrate and flash red. “Looks like our table is ready.”
The hostess led them through the restaurant, crowded not only with the usual after work customers, but with holiday shoppers laden with bags from nearly every store imaginable, to a booth overlooking Michigan Avenue. The bird’s-eye view of the twinkling lights covering the trees lining the Magnificent Mile only added to the festive atmosphere. Below them the rest of the city was celebrating the holiday season: a car inching through the traffic with an evergreen tree strapped to its roof, a Santa ringing his bell as good Samaritans dropped coins into his kettle, and children staring with wide eyes at the elaborate window displays. Christmas in Chicago was a sight to behold.
Too bad Allie felt like Ebenezer Scrooge.
“Earth to Allie.”
“Sorry.” She reached for her glass of water and took a long sip.
“No problem.” The sympathetic look in Harper’s eyes quickly faded to one of mischief. “But dessert is on you. And I’m not sharing this time, so order your own beignets,” she added with a laugh.
“Deal. Now tell me about Vince.”
Harper shrugged. “Eh.”
Allie’s eyes grew wide. “Eh? Since when do cute bartenders who make killer pear martinis get an ‘eh?’”
“Since I discovered how much med students know about . . . anatomy.”
Allie gaped at her friend, whose cheeks were suddenly as red as her hair. “Harper Hayes, are you blushing?”
“Let’s just say you’re a few episodes behind in this particular soap opera.”
“Sounds like it. So start talking.”
But instead of rattling off the intimate details of her love life, Harper let out a heavy sigh. “I knew this would happen.”
“Knew what would happen?”
“That it would be this way when we weren’t working together.” She flipped open her menu and began turning the pages. Allie knew from experience that she was headed straight to the appetizer section. “I hate having to schedule time to talk to my best friend. I feel like I talk to your assistant more than you.”
“Yeah, about that,” Allie teased, trying to lighten the mood. “Stop distracting him.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Harper’s lips but she feigned innocence as she perused the menu. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, please,” Allie said with a snort. “His desk is right outside my door. I hear him chatting away before he puts your calls through.”
Harper looked up from the menu, her green eyes wide with sincerity. “All joking aside, I hate having to schedule time to see my best friend.”
Allie reached across the table and squeezed Harper’s hand. “I know. And I’m sorry. This transition has been really tough. Hopefully things will settle down a bit after the first of the year.”
“It’s fine.” She gave her a warm smile, then turned her attention back to the menu. “But if you’re going to try to take this further than holding my hand, you better be planning to pay for dinner and not just dessert.”
Allie laughed. “Fair enough. So what are you thinking? Empanadas, volcano shrimp, or do we go for broke with the pot roast cheese fries?” After rattling off the choices, she pulled her cell phone out of her purse to add an hour at the gym to her Friday morning calendar.
“I’m thinking I better stick with the lettuce wraps.”
Allie glanced up from the phone screen, her mouth hanging open. “Who are you and what have you done with my friend?”
“She’s right here. She just ate enough sweet potato casserole last week to bust the zipper on her stress jeans.”
While she certainly sympathized, Allie couldn’t help but smile at the description. Harper had clothes designated for moods. There were stress jeans, meltdown surgical scrubs, and for really extreme scenarios, the I’m-going-to-join-a-convent elastic waist sweatpants.
“How was your trip home, aside from the binging?”
“Good. My sister was there with her new baby, so the picture taking and ‘goo-goo ga-ga’ stuff was a bit over the top. But my Uncle Eddie kept his pants on during the football games, so all in all I’d say it was a success. Still wish you would have come with me.”
“The last thing your mom needed was my mopey face at her table,” she said, only half joking. While Allie had appreciated Harper’s offer to spend the holidays with her family in St. Louis, she didn’t think she could have handled being around an extended happy family. Not only because she’d never spend another holiday with her own family, but because she knew with all certainty that being with Harper’s family would cause her to mourn the loss of the holidays she never had. Growing up Allie’s mom had made sure each and every celebration was picture-perfect, but not in the Norman Rockwell kind of way. More in the “stand still, you’ll wrinkle your dress” kind of way. A firsthand look at a normal holiday, even one with an uncle watching football in his underwear, would have been just too hard to take. “Besides, it all worked out for the best. I had a very productive weekend.”
“Productive? That’s not how people usually describe our nation’s day of gluttony.” Harper closed the menu and set it down on the table. “Please don’t tell me you spent the entire weekend working in your office alone?”
“Okay, I won’t tell you.”
Harper raised a brow but said nothing. It was unnerving.
“Fine. Yes, I worked all weekend.” Allie held up her hand in an attempt to stop the inevitable lecture. “But not always at the office and not always alone. Colin came in on Saturday and Sunday.”