I’d been tempted, but I’d used my judgment instead. Tiffanie’s internship had ended without drama, and she’d gone back to school in the fall. We’d kept in touch afterward in emails and the occasional phone call. Then she’d stopped by the office, late on a Friday afternoon in early December.
She chatted with Shari and Trip and several others as she made her way back to my office. I was happy to see her, of course, and didn’t think twice about the reason for her visit, much less the timing.
We talked for more than an hour, about school, projects, and life as an architect in the real world. Then Trip stuck his head into my office.
“I’m headed out. I think y’all’re the last ones here. ’Tis the season.”
“We should probably head out too,” I said.
“Sure thing. Anyway, it was great to see you again, Tiffanie.”
“Thanks. You too.”
“You graduate in May, right? Send us your résumé. Paul isn’t the only one who’d love to have you back.” It was genuine praise instead of a come-on. “I don’t know if we’ll have a position available, but we’ll do our best.”
“Thanks! I really appreciate it.”
“All right. Well, I’d better go. Wren’s out Christmas shopping. She found a new restaurant she wants to try. It’s a tough life,” he laughed. “Anyway, y’all have a good night.”
“You too,” I said.
“I’ll lock up behind me, just in case.” He waved and disappeared from the doorway. He began whistling a Christmas tune that faded as he jogged down the main staircase.
Tiffanie asked to use my bathroom to freshen up and change clothes. I didn’t even think twice about it, or that we were alone in the building. She reappeared a few minutes later wearing only a smile and a pair of panties with mistletoe on the front. Then she dropped her real bombshell.
“I know you’re a swinger. So… do you need to check with your wife first? Or can we get down to business?”
I returned to the present, and Allie gave me an expectant smirk.
“We’re friends with benefits,” I said.
“I know. She sounds nice. In fact, she reminds me of me. What I’ve heard about her, that is. My parents weren’t swingers, but I had a fling with my boss when I was her age.”
“The doctor you worked for?”
Allie flinched in surprise, although she recovered quickly and then laughed. “Yeah, I guess Christy tells you things too.”
“Mmm. You were younger, though, still in high school.”
“I was old enough,” she countered, “eighteen.”
“But you never—?”
“Oh, no,” she laughed, “we’re talking about you. And speaking of… I know about the others, too.”
“What others?”
“The other women. Before Tiffanie.”
“None that I worked with. Besides,” I demurred, “there really aren’t that many.”
She decided to call my bluff. “The heiress? What was her name?”
Alexa. My smile tightened. And she hates being called an heiress.
“Fred’s assistant, at the gallery?”
Margie.
“Oh, and the teacher at the girls’ school—”
Genevieve.
“—Miss Li. Too bad she moved. I liked her.”
“Mmm.”
Allie cocked her head and pantomimed thought.
“Okay, I get it,” I said abruptly. “You know all about me.”
She sobered just as quickly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t tease you.”
“No. Besides, you’re talking about people, not characters in one of your books.” I still cared about the women, even though they were in my past.
“You’re right,” Allie said with genuine contrition. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve been so flippant about it— about them.”
“Mmm. Especially when you might be one of them.”
“I— I… hadn’t thought about it like that. And you’re right, I did think of them as characters. Still, that’s no excuse. It’s just— I mean… I guess I was sort of living vicariously. I liked hearing about your girlfriends. Still do, I guess.”
“That’s fine. As long as you understand they’re real people, with real emotions.”
Her expression softened, and she snorted a laugh. She’d heard my speech before. We fell silent as the friction between us gradually faded.
“I guess I should be grateful,” she said at last. “I mean, I’m not as young as your usual… um… friend with benefits. And I’m definitely not in the same league, looks-wise—”
“I don’t care about looks. Well, I do,” I admitted, “but not as much as you think. And I definitely don’t care about age—sagging or stretch marks or anything else. You should know that by now. Besides, I’ve met twenty-year-olds who weren’t half as exciting as you.” I paused to let that sink in. “I care about people, not bodies.”
“Yeah, I know. But… I guess…” She sighed.
“Listen,” I said softly, “quit obsessing about your looks. None of us are perfect. The only thing that matters is, ‘Are we perfect for each other?’ Right now, the answer is yes. At least, I hope it is.”
She nodded and sighed again, admission instead of defeat.
All of a sudden the door chime sounded from the direction of the security panel in the master bedroom. Allie’s head came up, and I checked my watch.
“Too early,” I said. “It’s probably Emily.”
“Time for a snack?”
“I think so.”
Seconds stretched into hours, until the chime sounded again.
“Oh, thank God,” Allie breathed.
“Nah, we weren’t in any danger.” I shot her a grin that was more relief than anything. “Although… we should probably get cleaned up.” I checked my watch again. “We still have time to shower together, if you’re interested.” She was. “And then we need to talk to the girls.”
“About spending the night? I’m sure they’ll be okay with it.”
“Probably. Then I can call Christy, while you run home and grab what you need.”
“Wait, I have a better idea. Why don’t we all go out to dinner?”
“Sure, family night.”
“Or family date night.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, you can buy us dinner, and I’ll pay you back.” She made a sweeping gesture at her nude body. “All night… with this.”
Chapter 7
My girls were fine with another sleepover, and Allie’s were more than fine with it. They hadn’t enjoyed the night without A/C any more than she had. They were also excited when they realized she wasn’t wearing her swimsuit under her towel wrap.
“You’re gonna do it?” Madison said.
“I’m gonna try.”
“You’ll like it,” Carly added. “And you won’t get weird tan lines.”
“Especially when you switch suits.” Madison shuddered with tween revulsion.
“They aren’t that bad,” Allie laughed.
“They’re pretty bad. I mean, I look so dumb when I wear a tracksuit, all white in the middle.”
Emily scrunched her nose, her version of Madison’s shudder.
Allie scoffed. “When’s the last time you saw me in a Juicy tracksuit? Uh-uh, no.”
“Why not?” Susie said. “Our mom wears ’em all the time.”
And spends a fortune on them, I added. It was her money, but a $400 tracksuit? Then again, my business suits cost $1,000 or more, and I had a closet full of them.
“Because she’s built for them,” Allie was saying. “I’m not.”
“Why not? ’Cause your tummy isn’t flat?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I cut in. “Clothes don’t make the person.” I suppressed a wince and waited for lightning to strike, but the sartorial gods didn’t bother with the likes of me. (They had bigger things to worry about, like whatever Elton John was thinking up.)