LITMIR.BIZ

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tamped down her disappointment and told him that Viv was doing well. “So, um, call me when you’re finished?”

      “You know I will.” And he was gone.

      Lucy wanted to cry. Like some big spoiled baby, she wanted to burst into tears because they only had until Thursday and now most of today would be gone before she saw him again. Really, how silly and selfish was that?

      She stared out the window at the people rushing by on the street, at the Christmas decorations and window displays, at the Salvation Army bell ringer on the corner and the strange raggedy bearded fellow wearing a dirty fringed rawhide jacket and a coonskin cap. He stopped to throw bills into the bell ringer’s bucket.

      It was the happiest time of the year. All the Christmas songs said so.

      What was there to cry about?

      Nothing, she told herself. Not one single thing. Viv was getting better and she would be with Dami that night.

      She had the cabbie let her off in front of the Paradise Diner, where she had a bowl of clam chowder and told Tabby about Viv.

      Tabby pulled her up out of her seat, hugged her and asked her why she seemed so down. “I mean, she’s going to make it, right?”

      “Oh, yeah. I’m sure she will. And I’m not down.”

      Tabby gave her two bags of oyster crackers. “Where’s the prince?”

      “Working,” Lucy grumbled.

      “Uh-oh. You’ve got it bad.”

      “Oh, I do not. It’s not like that.”

      Tabby frowned. “Like what, exactly?”

      “I mean, we’re just, you know, having fun....”

      “How long’s he here for?” Tabby asked way too gently.

      Lucy opened one of the little bags and poured the crackers onto her chowder. “Not long enough.”

      Nestor yelled something in Greek. Tabby turned around and yelled right back at him, also in Greek. Then she muttered, “Why do I put up with him?”

      “He makes great clam chowder?” Lucy suggested.

      About then, Nestor bellowed, “Order up!”

      Tabby waved a dismissing hand in his direction and said to Lucy, “I’m off at two. And I do need to tell you all about Henry....”

      “The Saturday-night guy?”

      “Oh, yeah.” She put her hand against her chest and mimed a fast-beating heart. “He’s the one.”

      Lucy hesitated. She did want to hear about Henry. And she could talk to Tabby. In fact, she might be tempted to start admitting things she hadn’t even admitted to herself yet. It would be wiser not to go there.

      But who was she kidding? She needed to talk. “Come over to my place. I’ll be home.”

      * * *

      Lucy made them coffee. They sat in her living room. The view in there was of the wall of the building the next block over, but it was a cozy room, and you could see a little bit of the gray winter sky if you craned toward the window and looked up.

      Tabby said she was falling for Henry O’Mara. “Saturday night, Sunday night. He’s coming over tonight, too.” Her parents weren’t happy. They were still after her to patch things up with the nice Greek man she’d almost married. “But I’m happy,” Tabby said with a giant grin. “Very, very happy in a big, big way.” She looked around the room. “Where’s the cat?”

      “He’s up at Dami’s. We took him up there last night so I wouldn’t have to keep running down here to feed him. We took his litter box, too, which means if I haul him back down here, I need to bring the box. I mean, just in case, right? Ugh. It’s complicated.”

      Tabby laughed. “So get a second litter box.”

      “It’s only for a few days.”

      “Ah, so that’s what’s going on with you. The prince is leaving soon and you’re missing him already.” Tabby sipped her coffee. “Ask him to stay.”

      “It’s not like that. It’s not...that kind of a thing between us.”

      “Do you want it to be that kind of a thing?”

      Lucy put her hand on her chest. “My heart kind of does. A little.” Liar, a chiding voice whispered inside her head. Your heart wants it a lot. “But he’s not a ‘staying’ kind of guy—or if he was, probably he wouldn’t be with me.”

      “Why not with you?”

      “It’s just that it’s not that way with us.”

      “What way?”

      “We’re friends. With benefits, for now. That part—the two of us being lovers, was supposed to be just for Thanksgiving. And now it’s only until Thursday. And I’m just starting out, anyway. I’m not ready for anything serious, no matter what my silly heart keeps telling me.”

      “Shut the front door. Just for Thanksgiving?”

      “Please. Don’t ask me to explain. It’s...”

      “Do not say ‘complicated.’”

      “But it is complicated.”

      Tabby set her cup down and leaned toward Lucy. “You need to talk to him about it, tell him how you feel.”

      “But that’s just it. I don’t want to talk to him about it.”

      “Yeah, you do.”

      “No, I want to enjoy the time I have with him and then when it’s over, I want us to remain friends.”

      “But you’re not enjoying it.”

      “Yes, I am. Mostly. Mostly, I’m enjoying it a lot.”

      “Lucy, sweetie, you should see your sad little face. Talk to him.”

      “I feel like such a child again. It’s the one thing I hate, to feel like a child. I’ve felt like a child for most of my life, sick all the time, not getting to do any of the things other girls did, with other people hovering, worrying and having to take care of me. And the whole point in the first place with me and Dami being more than friends was for me not in any way to feel like a child.”

      Tabby kicked off her duty shoes and folded her legs up to the side. “Is he treating you bad?”

      Lucy gasped. “Dami? Never. Not in any way. And this whole thing, it was my idea. I’m the one who started it, okay? I asked him to be my first lover and he wasn’t into it, but as usual, he was a hero about it and tried to let me down easy. But then he discovered that maybe he could be into it with me.”

      “Oh, right. He discovered this, did he?”

      “No, Tabby. I’m serious. He always thought of me as a kid before, you know?”

      “Oh, spare me. I’m a busy woman with my parents’ business to run, but even I read the National Enquirer now and then. The man is like some world-class lover, right? I’m sure he can tell if he’s attracted or he’s not.”

      “Uh-uh. He’s not like that, not with me. He’s not a player with me. He really has been my friend first and foremost. And we really, truly were just friends until Thanksgiving. That’s when I went after him. I went after him and I kept pushing and finally, well, it happened. We made love and it was beautiful. Exactly what I dreamed it might be. And it’s been that way every time since the first time.”

      Tabby had her lips pursed up and her brow furrowed. “It was supposed to be over after Thanksgiving, you said....”

      “That’s right. But he had meetings here in New York and, well...”

      “What you’re saying

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