The Daddy Wish

To her surprise, there were only a handful of tables in use, and more of the seats at the bar were vacant than occupied.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen it so quiet in here on a Friday night,” Allison remarked.

Chelsea set a glass of pinot noir on a paper coaster in front of her friend. “It might pick up a little bit later, but the first weekend after the holidays is always slow. Most people are dragging after their first week back at work—or too worried about paying their credit card bills—to want to go out.”

“I can understand that,” Allison acknowledged.

“And I’m guessing the only reason you’re here is that it’s Dylan’s weekend with his dad.”

“Yeah,” she admitted. “I’ve got a thousand things to do at home—with a thousand loads of laundry being at the top of the list—but it just felt too quiet tonight.”

“Did you come in here to see me or in search of some male companionship?”

Allison’s eye roll was the only response she was going to give to that question.

Her friend sighed. “When was the last time you went out on a date—the night Dylan was conceived?”

“I date,” she said.

Chelsea’s brows lifted.

“I do. I even let you set me up on that blind date with your cousin Ivan not too long ago.”

“Evan,” her friend corrected. “And that was more than three years ago.”

“It was not.”

“It was,” Chelsea insisted. “Because he didn’t meet Wendy until a few months after that, and they just celebrated their second wedding anniversary.”

“Oh.” She picked up her glass, sipped. “It really didn’t seem like it was that long ago.”

“You’re a fabulous mother, but you’re also a young and sexy woman hiding behind your responsibilities to your son. There should be more to your life.”

“I don’t have time for anything more.”

“You have to make time,” her friend insisted. “To get out and meet new people.”

“Why can’t I just hang out with the people I already know?”

Chelsea sighed. “How long has it been since you’ve had sex? No—” She shook her head. “Forget that. How long has it been since you’ve even kissed a guy?”

Sex was, admittedly, a distant and foggy memory. But every detail of that kiss under the mistletoe was still seared into her brain despite all of her efforts to forget about it, tempting her with the unspoken promise of so much more.

“Oh. My. God.”

She blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been holding out on me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mentioned the word kiss and your eyes got this totally dreamy look and your cheeks actually flushed.”

Allison’s cheeks burned hotter. “It really wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” her friend decided. “When? Where? And who?”

Because she knew Chelsea wouldn’t be dissuaded, she answered her questions in order. “Before Christmas, at a party. It was just one kiss, and no way am I telling you who.”

“Before Christmas? And I’m only hearing about this now?”

“It wasn’t a big deal.” Which was a big fat lie, but she mentally crossed her fingers in the hope that her friend might believe it.

“Just one kiss?”

She nodded.

“Honey, if you’re still blushing over one kiss more than three weeks later, it isn’t just a big deal, it must have been one helluva kiss.”

“I haven’t been kissed like that in...” Allison tried to think back to a time when another man had touched her the way Nathan had touched her, kissed her as if he wanted nothing more than to go on kissing her, and her mind came up blank “...ever.”

“Ty—” Chelsea called out to the man working the other end of the bar. “Can you cover for me for a few minutes?”

He winked at her. “Your wish is my command.”

Chelsea rolled her eyes as she came around to the other side of the bar and slid onto the empty stool beside her friend, so they could talk without their conversation being overheard.

“Tell me about your holidays,” Allison suggested, hoping to redirect her friend’s focus.

Chelsea shook her head. “Uh-uh. This is about you, not me.”

“But your life is so much interesting.”

“Not this time.”

Allison traced the base of her wineglass with a fingertip. “It really was just one kiss, and it’s not going any further than that.”

“Why not?” her friend demanded.

“Because it was the office Christmas party.”

“It was someone you work with?”

She nodded.

“How closely?”

“Does it matter?”