The Christmas Wedding Swap

by Allyson Charles

  “But did you want another result?”

  Allison sniffled.

  Sadie threw her arm along the top of the couch and leaned her head against Allison’s. “I’ve never seen you happier than you have been this past month, and the only thing that’s changed is that Luke’s been in your life. Isn’t that something worth fighting for?”

  Using the cuff of her shirt, Allison dabbed at her eyes. “I think at this point it would be like beating a dead horse. The lives we lead are too different. We’re too different.” Eventually the pain would have to end. He consumed her thoughts now, but the memories would fade.

  Sadie burst out laughing. “You’re both talented chefs, driven restaurant owners, and what my grandmother would have called ‘good eggs.’ Tell me again how you’re different?”

  Allison crossed her arms. “He owns a Michelin-rated restaurant. I have a greasy spoon. He gets spreads in magazines like Food and Wine. The only spread I get is across my ass. His haircuts probably cost more than my mortgage payments. Does that clear things up for you?”

  “All that is just window-dressing,” Sadie said. “Underneath your superficial whining, you two worked great together. And I don’t just mean in the kitchen.”

  Back of her throat burning, Allison merely shook her head. She didn’t want to argue.

  A yawn split across Sadie’s face, and she covered her mouth with her hand. “Okay, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” She nudged Allison’s shoulder. “How about a cup of hot chocolate to get us through this last list of wedding details?”

  Getting to her feet, Allison stretched her hands up to the ceiling, her fingers laced together. “I’m on it. Caffeine in the form of chocolate is on its way.”

  Sadie pulled her binder out of her large messenger bag. “That’s the best form.”

  Nodding in agreement, Allison went to her kitchen and heated a pot of milk. She prepared two mugs, topping them with heaping peaks of whipped cream. She shot a couple swirls directly into her mouth and carried the cups to the dining room.

  Sadie’s head lolled against the sofa cushion, her mouth slack. Delicate little snores puffed out of her mouth. Allison tiptoed back into her kitchen and pulled out her phone. Taking a sip of her hot chocolate, she called Colt.

  “Hi. It’s Allison. You have a comatose fiancée here. I thought you might want to come and collect her so she doesn’t drive home exhausted.”

  Without a grumble or a curse, he agreed, and in ten minutes was knocking on her door. “Thanks, Allison.” He squeezed her shoulder and stole into the living room. Leaning down, he scooped Sadie up in his arms and ignored her sleepy protests that she could walk just fine. Allison held the door open, and Colt nodded goodbye as he strode through.

  She waited for them to pull out of her driveway and flicked off her porch light. She trudged up her stairs, taking both mugs of cocoa with her. She wasn’t one to waste chocolate.

  Getting ready for bed, she thought about Colt and Sadie. The two of them took care of each other, respected each other, and couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. It was a damn near perfect relationship.

  That’s what Allison wanted.

  She wanted Luke but a Luke who would be there for her, not just on every other weekend.

  Her former idea of settling down with a stable man who would make a decent father seemed like just that: settling. Luke had showed her how exciting a real relationship could be. And Colt and Sadie proved that crazy-in-love and dependability could coexist in a marriage.

  Allison couldn’t go back to her pre-Luke attitude. He had shown her what was possible. She wanted the whole enchilada.

  She was no longer willing to settle for anything less than everything.

  * * * *

  Allison scanned her catering checklist. Sadie wasn’t the only one who could organize. All the food had been delivered and sat in her refrigerators at The Pantry. She had mapped out and double-checked her cooking schedule for the big day tomorrow. And she had confirmed with her help, including her replacement for Luke, that everyone would be at the reception hall on time. All she had left to do for the night was make the dough for the dinner rolls, set it for a slow rise in the fridge overnight, and prep the salads. Everything was under control.

  For the wedding, at least. The rest of her life seemed to be in a death spiral. Allison bit her lip. She would not cry anymore.

  Putting the ingredients in her industrial mixer, Allison let the machine do its work, and called her sister.

  “Hey, Allison. What’s up?” Cam was brisk efficiency, and Allison knew her sister must still be at her office.

  “I need to confess something to you.”

  “As your attorney, or as your sister?” Cam asked. “Because if you’ve killed someone, I’ve got to warn you that criminal law was my worst subject in school.”

  “Very funny.” Allison scratched at a mark on her counter. “I, uh, didn’t get Molly the Caty Cowgirl doll. I’ve looked everywhere, but it’s completely sold out. I’m sorry.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line.

  “Cam? Are you removing me as godparent to your children?” Allison tried to keep her voice light, but her chest felt like lead. She was miserable, and in two days her niece was going to be miserable. Merry frickin’ Christmas.

  “Okay,” Cam said. “She’ll have to wait for her birthday to get it.”

  Allison straightened. “What? No yelling? No telling me I’ve ruined your daughter’s happiness?”

  “Please. She’ll sulk for a couple hours, annoy everyone around her, but she’ll get over it.” Cam sniffed. “Like the rest of us, Molly has to learn how to deal with bad news. I thought you were going to confess that you’d already scared off Luke. We can’t wait to see what he brings to Christmas dinner.”

  Allison dropped her chin to her chest. “Well…”

  “You didn’t!” A chair squeaked over the line. “You guys have been living together for less than a month, and you already chased him away?”

  “I didn’t chase him or scare him,” Allison said through gritted teeth.

  Delilah pushed through the doors from the front, saw Allison’s face, and backed out of the kitchen.

  “Jesus Christ, Cam.” Allison swept her arm out and knocked over a bag of flour. “You act like I’m some pathetic woman who would have a better chance at trapping a man by throwing a net over his head than I would at actually being in a committed relationship. I can be loveable, damn it.” She stomped to the closet and pulled out the broom. She tried tucking the phone between her ear and shoulder, but it slipped. She caught it an inch from the floor.

  Allison put the call on speaker. “I dropped the phone. I didn’t hear your argument why no man would ever want me.”

  The speaker crackled. “Jeez, Allison, that’s not what I meant.”

  Allison cleaned up the flour but had more angry energy than she knew what to do with. “I think it is what you mean. You, and Sam, and Mom, all wondering what went wrong with poor Allison. Why she can’t get a man to love her.” She peeled the dough out of the mixer, threw it down on a clean cutting board, and tossed a handful of flour down on it.

  “I didn’t know you felt this way,” Cam said. “Of course we don’t think you’re unlovable. We just worry about you.”

  “What you consider worry, I consider insults.” Allison dug her palms into the dough, putting her whole back into kneading it. “You always assume I’m the one who screwed things up. You just accused me of ‘scaring’ away Luke. How else am I supposed to take that?”

  “I’m sorry,” Cam said, her voice subdued. “You’re always so upbeat. I never realized that it bothered you. You’ve never said anything before.”

  “No.” Allison stared at the smooth dough. “I haven’t. I guess I should have let you guys know long before this that it hurt me.”r />
  “I’ll talk to Mom and Sam.” Cam cleared her throat. “We’ll do better.”

  “Thanks. And I’ll let you know if something bothers me instead of letting it all build up.” Allison didn’t expect things to change overnight; behaviors were ingrained. But she knew her family didn’t want to hurt her, that they’d try their best to bite their tongues.

  “What happened with Luke?” Cam asked. “Did he do something?”

  Allison slumped her shoulders. “No. It wasn’t anything he did but who he is. He couldn’t see a life in Pineville, and I wouldn’t fit into his life in Chicago.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “It was just one of those things.”

  “Let’s go out for drinks,” Cam suggested. “I’m buying, and you can tell me all about it.”

  “Thanks.” The tension in Allison’s back and shoulders eased. “But I have work to do for Sadie’s wedding. Maybe after Christmas we can go out.”

  “It’s a deal.” Camilla’s voice caught. “You know we all love you, right?”

  “I know. Love you, too.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow at the wedding.”

  They said their goodbyes and disconnected. Allison separated the dough into five sections and put them in bowls. She covered the tops and stuck them in the refrigerator. One more chore done. She headed to the front of the restaurant and the last urn of coffee made from Luke’s beans. She hated to go back to the old stuff.

  Only a few customers remained, and her staff had already completed most of the closing cleanup. Delilah leaned against the counter, chatting with a young man who had more studs through his eyebrow than Allison had in her ears.

  Allison walked up to the couple. “Delilah, if you want to take off now, you can. I’ll clean the kitchen after I’m finished with my catering prep.”

  “Thanks. Miles and I do have some, uh, papers we have to work on for school.” The edges of Delilah’s mouth turned up, a secret smile at Miles, who blushed.

  Allison knew good and well that the college term had ended last week. “Uh-huh.” She poured herself a cup of coffee. “Thanks for working the wedding tomorrow. I’ll see you at the reception hall at two.”

  Taking her mug, she went back to her office. She inhaled the aroma of Luke’s coffee, imagining he was there.

  The office phone rang, and she jerked, a splash of coffee spattering her jeans. Licking her thumb, she rubbed at the spot and picked up the receiver on the fourth ring. “The Pantry.”

  “Oh,” a man said. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to still be there. I thought I’d leave a message.”

  “Well, you got the owner. Can I help you?”

  “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “This is Keith from Le Cygne Noir. I have a check for a Colt McCoy, to be delivered to your restaurant since Luke doesn’t have Colt’s address. I wanted to make sure your mailing address was the same as your business address. Also, we have a lot of food inventory we need to dispose of, and Luke offered to ship anything to you that you might want.”

  “Wait. What?” Allison rubbed her forehead. She knew the man was speaking English, but she wasn’t understanding the words coming out of his mouth.

  “I’m Keith, the manager of the restaurant Le Cygne Noir,” the man said slowly. “I have a check to send to you. I can also e-mail you the inventory of perishables to see if there’s anything you want. The rest of the inventory was sold with the restaurant, but we do have some lovely chateaubriand and a couple lobsters that should be good for a couple of days yet. We have a refrigeration truck we can drive them up in.”

  Allison pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it. Nope. Didn’t make any more sense looking at the phone than it did listening to it. “I don’t understand,” she said to Keith. “Why is Luke selling his restaurant? And when did this all happen? I saw him only a week ago, and he never mentioned any of this.” Six days, actually. Six days since she’d kicked him out of her life. It felt like a lifetime of misery.

  “He sold it to pay off his creditor. I thought you knew.” The man sounded suspicious. “This is Allison Stuart, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. And, yes, I knew about his troubles.” She cleared her throat. “I just didn’t know he was planning on selling.”

  “With a business like Le Cygne Noir, there are always interested buyers circling around. But I know Luke didn’t get nearly as much as he could have, selling so quickly.” Keith sighed. “That, and the condition that the buyer keep the remaining staff on for at least a year. Not many men would have required that.”

  “No.” Allison rubbed her forehead. Luke had sold his restaurant. It didn’t seem real. What the hell had he been thinking?

  “So, do you want the stuff?” Keith asked.

  It took Allison a moment to remember the question. “Uh, no. No thanks. My refrigerators are full.”

  “Okay. Me and some of the guys will take it over to some shelters tomorrow and cook it up. The homeless of Chicago are going to have a great Christmas Eve dinner.”

  The idea of five-star quality surf and turf being served at homeless shelters made her smile. “That’s a great idea.”

  “I’ll put your check in the mail tomorrow,” Keith said. “But with Christmas, it might be a couple days before you get it.”

  “That’s fine.” They said their goodbyes and hung up.

  Her mind whirled. What did it all mean? Why would Luke give up on his dream? Allison dropped her forehead to the desk. None of it made sense.

  Jenny’s voice broke into her moping. “Uh, Allison?”

  She didn’t raise her head and spoke into the desk. “Yes?”

  “The last customer just left. Do you want me to lock up?”

  “No, I’ll do it.” Allison sighed. “You go on home.”

  “Okay.” Fabric brushed against fabric, as though her waitress had shifted her weight. “Anything wrong?”

  “Nope. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Allison said.

  “Uh, okay.” Silence stretched for a couple of beats. “Bye.” Soft footsteps trailed off.

  Allison lifted her head an inch and dropped it back to the desk with a small thud. She groaned. That hadn’t helped her headache. There really was only one thing that could.

  Placing her hands on the desk, she pushed herself up and shuffled to the front. Half the lights were off, giving the diner a dusky glow. One of the remaining spotlights shined a halo around the object on the counter that was the object of her quest. She lifted the cover of the cake plate and sighed in relief. A golden pumpkin pie waited for her, a large wedge missing. It looked like a tasty Pac-Man.

  Grabbing a setup, she unrolled the napkin and walked around the counter, dropping into the seat in front of the pie. She didn’t bother with a plate. She pulled the pie in close and dug in. A sweet and spicy custard filling. A light flaky crust. And the slightest kick from Allison’s secret ingredient. She licked the tines of her fork clean and shoveled in another bite. It was absolutely delicious and did nothing to improve her mood. She sniffed. Maybe the cherry pie would succeed where the pumpkin had failed.

  The bell on the front door tinkled. Without turning around, Allison said, “We’re closed.” The door snicked shut. Good. Alone again with her pie. She should probably lock up so the two of them weren’t disturbed again.

  She felt him before she heard him. The hairs on her nape lifted. Heat rolled off his body and soaked into her back. She must have smelled his unique scent, a trace of cocoa and cardamom. It was the only thing that made sense. There could be nothing distinctive about the energy he emanated. But whatever the reason, she knew without a doubt that Luke Hamilton stood just inches behind her.

  A hand reached around her shoulder and took the fork from her nerveless fingers. He scooped up a bite, and the utensil disappeared behind her head.

  “Mmm. You make a damn fine pie, sweet cheeks.”

  Chapt
er Nineteen

  Luke watched with amusement as Allison spun around so fast that she slipped off the seat and tumbled into the stool one over. With a hand at her elbow, he steadied her. “Easy.”

  Her eyes were as wide as her mouth, her hair was a tangled mess, and it looked as though she’d slept in her sweatshirt. Luke had never been happier to see a woman.

  Easing into the seat beside her, he reached out for another bite of pie. It really was damn good, and he’d missed dinner driving in from Chicago. He pulled the pie plate in front of him. Holding the loaded fork in front of her mouth, he asked, “Want some more?”

  She shook her head, her platinum curls bouncing. “What the hell are you doing here?” She lifted her hands, palms up. “I mean what the hell?”

  Luke smiled. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words?”

  “Luke…”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t like the way we left it. Besides, Colt asked me to be at his wedding.”

  Allison’s face crumpled, and she swiveled her chair to face front. “You came for the wedding. Of course.”

  Luke tossed his fork down. Allison wasn’t the only one clumsy with words. “I didn’t mean that—”

  “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. I thought we’d agreed…”

  “I couldn’t do it.” Grabbing the back of her chair, he turned it so she faced him. “I wouldn’t make it without seeing you again. We have so much to talk about.”

  “We do?”

  “First, did you get the check yet?” he asked. “It was supposed to be expressed up here.” He needed Allison to know he hadn’t left her friends high and dry.

  She shook her head. “No. Your manager said he would mail it tomorrow. He needed to confirm my address.”

  “Ex-manager. I sold the restaurant.” It was amazing how free he felt after signing the contract—free and scared as hell. He was going to have to start over. But he was good at creating things from scratch. And when he’d handed a check to Walt Staghart, shook the man’s hand, and apologized, it had all been worth it. All of Luke’s running was over. There were no more monkeys on his back.