“I don’t remember,” I lied. “Mostly just watching the snow fall. What about you?”

“Me, what?”

“Are you a sad person?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you just spent a delightful night, and about to spend one hell of a day, with a ruggedly handsome man you can’t help but adore. What could you possibly be sad about?”

She grinned. “You’re awfully full of yourself.”

“Nah, just a little happy you’re here. So what’s the plan? Shall I get showered and we can go to your place? You can even shower here if you want.” I jumped on the bed beside her and mirrored her same pose, on my side with my head propped by my hand.

“Um, well . . . ,” she said and trailed off. “I’m in kind of an odd living situation at the moment.”

“What does that mean? Do you live at home with your parents?”

She shook her head. “My parents are in Iowa. I’m living with my ex-boyfriend.”

“Oh jeez, how is that working out?”

“It’s horrible.”

“How long have you been broken up?”

“A week.”

I nodded. “I guess that explains being alone in the bar last night.”

“Yeah. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet.”

“Do you have friends you can stay with?”

She sighed. “Not really. The only friends I’ve made are from work, and I only started there a month and a half ago.”

“How long have you been in Chicago?”

“A year.”

“From Iowa?”

She nodded. “We moved here after we graduated. He would get really jealous when I made friends, so I never really did until a month ago.”

“I know the type,” I said. “So that makes you what, nineteen? Twenty?

She nodded. “Nineteen.”

“How did you drink last night?”

“Fake ID.”

“Are you considering moving back to Iowa? That might turn me into a sad person.”

“I sure hope not. That was why we moved in the first place. My parents hated Jimmy. They wouldn’t let me see him and said it would never work out. So we moved here. And they were right and they’ll make sure I know it if I go back.”

“Wait, his name is Jimmy? What is he, a mobster?” She laughed. “Did your parents not like him because his name was Jimmy? Is it even possible to take someone named Jimmy seriously?”

“Shut up, jerk,” she said playfully.

“Me? What did I do? I’m not the one named Jimmy here.”

“You’re mean.”

“I’m as sweet as pie.”

“Are not.”

“Am too,” I said, batting my eyes and attempting to make a cute face.

“You look like a squirrel when you make that face.”

I stuck out my bottom lip. “Now who’s the mean one?”

“Me? How am I mean?”

“You called me a squirrel.”

“Squirrels are cute, silly. Like the cutest thing in the world.”