“Isn’t that a nice thing to say?” He frowned.

Ruth laughed. “Honey, she’s been putting on weight consistently for the past ten years. When you say that to her, it’s like you’re making fun.”

“Laura’s a fatty,” he whispered to Lucy, and she collapsed on the bed laughing.

He took a deep breath as he noticed the time. “Okay, I should go now. See you tomorrow,” he said to Lucy, kissing her on the head.

“I like you much better now, Daddy,” she said happily.

Lou froze, still half on the bed. “What did you say?”

“I said I like you much better now.” She smiled, revealing a missing bottom tooth. “Me, Mummy, and Bud are going ice-skating tomorrow. Will you come?”

Still taken aback by her comment, he simply said, “Yes. Sure.”

Ruth came back into the room again, bringing a wave of her perfume with her, her hair in loose waves down past her shoulders. Lou couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“Mummy, Mummy!” Lucy jumped up on the bed and started bouncing up and down. “Daddy’s coming ice-skating tomorrow.”

“Lucy, get down, you’re not allowed to jump on the bed. Get down, sweetheart, thank you. Remember I told you that Daddy is a very busy man, he doesn’t have time to be—”

“I’m coming,” Lou interrupted firmly.

Ruth’s mouth fell open. “Oh.”

“Is that okay?”

“Yes, sure, I just…Yes. Absolutely. Great.” She nodded, then headed back into the bathroom. This time the door closed softly behind her.

He gave her a couple of minutes alone but then couldn’t afford to wait any longer.

“Ruth”—Lou rapped gently on the bathroom door—“you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” She cleared her throat and sounded overly perky. “I’m just…blowing my nose.”

“Okay, I’ll see you later,” he said, wanting to go inside and hug her good-bye, but knowing that the door would open if she wanted him to.

“Okay,” she said, a little less perky now. “See you at the party.”

The door remained closed, and so he left.

THE OFFICES OF PATTERSON DEVELOPMENTS were swarming with Lou Suffern’s colleagues in various states of disarray. It was only seven thirty p.m.—and already some were set for the night. Unlike Lou, who’d gone home after work, most people had gone straight to the pub and returned to the party to continue their revelry. There were women he barely recognized, in dresses that revealed bodies he’d never known existed beneath their suits; and there were some whose bodies were made only for their suits. The uniformity of the day had been broken down: there was an air of adolescence, of the desire to show off and prove to one another who they really were. It was a night for rule breaking, for saying what they felt; it was a dangerous environment to be in. Mistletoe hung from almost every doorway—in fact, Lou had already received two kisses as soon as he’d stepped out of the elevator, from the opportunists hanging around there.

Suit jackets were off; novelty musical ties, Santa hats, and reindeer antlers were on. They all worked hard, and it was clear that tonight they were all going to play hard.

“Where’s Mr. Patterson?” Lou asked Alison, finding her sitting on the lap of the fifth Santa Claus he’d seen so far. Her eyes were glassy, the focus already gone. She was wearing a tight red dress that showed every curve of her body. He forced himself to look away.

“And what do you want for Christmas, little boy?” the voice beneath the costume bellowed.

“Oh, hi, James,” Lou said politely.

“He wants any promotion,” somebody in the crowd yelled, which was followed by a few titters.

“Not just a promotion, he wants Cliff’s job,” somebody with reindeer antlers shouted, and the crowd laughed again.

Smiling to hide his frustration and minor embarrassment, Lou laughed along with them; then when the conversation turned to something else, he quietly slipped away. He retreated to his office, which was quiet and still, with not a glimpse of tinsel or mistletoe in sight. He sat with his head in his hands, awaiting Mr. Patterson’s call to his office, listening to “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” being half sung and half shouted by the crowd outside. He shouldn’t be here, he realized. He should be across the river Liffey at his father’s party.

He reached into his pocket and retrieved the pill he had wrapped in a handkerchief. He placed it on the table and poured a glass of water. He placed the glass beside the pill and stared at them both. Took a deep breath.

Suddenly the music got louder as the door to his office opened; then it quietened as the door closed. He knew who it was before he even looked up.

Alison walked toward him, a glass of red wine in one hand, a whiskey in the other, her hips swinging in her slinky red dress and looking like the dangly thing at the back of a throat. Her ankles wobbled in her platform heels, and the wine jumped up a few times from the glass to splash her thumb.

“Careful there.” Lou’s eyes followed her every move, his head staying put, both sure and uncertain at the same time.

“It’s okay.” She put her glass down on the table and sucked her thumb, licking the spilled wine from her skin while looking at Lou seductively. “I brought you a whiskey.” She handed it to him and sidled up beside him at the desk. “Cheers.” Picking up her glass again, she clinked his and then, her eyes not once moving from his, drank.

Lou cleared his throat, suddenly feeling crowded, and pushed his chair back. Alison misunderstood and slid her behind along the desk so that she was directly in front of him now. Her chest was in his sight line, and he tore his eyes away, looking instead at the door. His position was dangerous. It looked very bad. But he felt extremely good.

“We never got to finish up what we were doing before.” She smiled. “Everybody’s talking about clearing their desks before Christmas.” Her voice was low and sultry. “Thought I’d come in and give you a hand.”

She pushed away a few files from his desk; they slid down onto the floor, scattering everywhere. The pill flew up and got lost among the files on the ground.

“Oops,” she said with a smile, sitting on the desk before him, her short red dress rising even farther up her thighs, revealing long, toned legs.

Beads of sweat broke out on Lou’s brow. His mind ran through every possibility. Go outside and search for Mr. Patterson or stay inside with Alison. He could take the pill lying somewhere on the ground and do both. No, remember his priorities: be with Alison and go to his dad’s party. No, be with Mr. Patterson and go to his dad’s party. Both at the same time.

Uncrossing her legs, Alison used her foot to pull his chair in closer to the desk, red lace between her thighs greeting him as he was wheeled slowly closer to her. She scooted forward to the edge of the desk, pushing her dress up even higher. So high there was nowhere else for him to look now. He could take a pill: be with Alison and be with Ruth.

Ruth.

Alison reached out and pulled him closer, her hands now on his face. He felt the acrylic nails. The tap-tap sound against the keyboards that drove him insane every day. There they were, on his face, on his chest, running down his body. Long fingers on the fabric of his suit, the suit that was supposed to mirror his inner dignity.

“I’m married,” he sputtered as her hand reached his groin. His voice was panicked, sounding childlike.

Alison threw her head back and laughed. “I know,” she purred, and her hands continued roving.

“That wasn’t a joke,” he said firmly, and she stopped suddenly to look at him. He stared back at her solemnly, and they held each other’s gaze. Then the corner of Alison’s lips lifted in a smile, despite her attempts to prevent it. Then, when she couldn’t keep it in anymore, she exploded. Her long blond hair reached down to his desktop as she threw her head back to laugh once again.