The Importance of Being Alice by Katie MacAlister

knowing someone is driven by pity into kissing you. I mean, how embarrassing is it to admit that people kiss you not because they want to, but because they feel like that’s probably the only kiss you’re going to get? But that was a nice pity kiss. It was a pity kiss that says that you aren’t the type of person who would have kicked me out of our condo and found a new woman without at least suffering a bit. It was a pity kiss that says I’m in the right, and Patrick is an ass, and while you empathize with my sad situation, you don’t feel sorry for me. It was a pity kiss that said you want me to feel better about myself, and to not let Patrick’s idiocy ruin a really good trip. Right?”
    He wanted quite badly to tell her that he kissed herbecause he wanted to, and not out of respect for her feelings, but long association with his mother and sisters kept his tongue behind his teeth. He nodded.
    She gave him a dewy smile, sniffed twice, and thankfully blinked back the last of the tears. “You’re really a nice guy, your royal lordship. Tell you what, I’ll take you to dinner tonight, OK? So long as you don’t order any wine. It’s really expensive here, and my daily spending budget isn’t huge. Deal?”
    â€œIf I desire wine, I will be happy to pay for it,” he told her gravely, and allowed her to tug him along toward their destination.
    â€œI hope you’re hungry,” she said again as they wound their way through the sometimes confusing maze of streets, guided by a map she had on her mobile phone. “Did you get your book written today?”
    â€œI reached my goal for the day, yes, but the book is far from being done.”
    â€œAh. How long does it take you to write a whole book?”
    â€œIt depends on the book in question. Where exactly is this restaurant?”
    â€œJust around the corner ahead. Do you not like talking about writing?”
    The neighborhood they had entered had a decided seedy tinge to it, one that raised a few mental warning flags. He wasn’t opposed to people indulging in minor recreational drugs, so long as they didn’t harm others, but he didn’t care to participate, himself. The question was, how did Alice feel about coffeehouses and the drug patronage they offered?
    Different strokes, he reminded himself, and decided that he would not attempt to kiss her again. Not until he knew whether she was likely to be getting stoned atevery opportunity while they were in Holland. Emotional distance—that was what he needed, at least until he knew her a little better. Not only did he not need a romantic complication in his life, he certainly did not need one that used drugs.
    â€œElliott?”
    â€œHmm? Oh, no, not in particular. What’s the name of the place we’re having dinner?”
    â€œThe Ladybug. I hope that isn’t too cute for you, but Ricardo said it was the best place to go in all of Holland, and that I shouldn’t miss the experience of visiting it.”
    The warning flags fluttered a bit more in his head. “This wouldn’t happen to be a coffeehouse, would it? One that happens to also serve Ethiopian food?”
    â€œLike a Starbucks, you mean? No, they have meals. I’m so looking forward to a big bowl of wat.”
    He slid a glance at her. Did she think that he was not aware of the fact that coffeehouses in Holland were infamous for the consumption of cannabis, or was she simply naive? He sincerely hoped it was the latter. They turned the corner and ahead indeed was a sign that hung directly over a purple door.
    â€œThere it is. What a cute ladybug sign. You ready for an exciting Ethiopian experience?” She fairly skipped to the door she was so excited, and Elliott couldn’t tell whether it was because she was anticipating a drug-filled evening or a spicy stew.
    â€œUgh, they let people smoke in here. I thought that was illegal. Boy, they are seriously