Page 116 of It's Always Sonny

His taste—hot cocoa with a splash of hazelnut. I don’t know when he started using flavored creamers, but I send a silent thank you to Past Sonny, because Present Sonny is delicious.

His shoulders and back are broader and stronger than ever.

The stubble on his chin makes me want to scratch every itch.

And then there are all the parts I remember: tenderness, a playful passion, unwavering devotion.

How did I ever let this man go?

He puts his hand at the back of my hair, but it’s not enough. I bite his lower lip so he doesn’t go anywhere, drop my hands from his body, and pull my hair from its tie. Then Sonny plunges his hand into my hair, deepening the kiss.

We started intense and we stay intense. There’s no waxing and waning, no crescendo and decrescendo. We are making up for lost time, saying everything with our lips that we haven’t said with our words yet. But we aren’t out of control. We aren’t lost in passion, and I get the feeling we’re both making a concerted effort to show the intentionality of every brush of a hand or graze of our lips.

We communicate the pain of longing and the joy of being back together. With one hand in my hair, he drops the other to my hip and clutches, anchoring me to him.

As if I’m going anywhere.

I’m never letting him out of my sight again.

I wrap my arms around his neck, trying to eliminate any space that could remain between us. We are fire and ice, and when we melt, I want it to be together.

I don’t know how much time passes, but eventually, this most epic of makeout sessions eases. It’s like we’ve said everything we needed to say, and now it’s time for fun and games. Our lips tug, taste, and tease. How can a kiss be so playful and emotional at once? I want to laugh and cry, squeal and sob.

And like lightning, it strikes me what Nonna meant. I’m feeling emotions together I could never feel on my own.

Light and dark. Fire and ice. Joy and pain. Yin and yang.

In this colossal, chaotic universe, we are a single point of convergence.

Together, we are whole.

A soft sigh escapes me.

I don’t know how long we’ve kissed for, but the moon is in a different place, the jets have stopped and my muscles are no longer sore.

Sonny bumps his head against mine. “We are on fire.”

“We are in a hot tub.”

“Enough, Parkypants. You know what I mean.”

“Parkypants?”

“‘Parker’ is an acceptable synonym for smart, so yes. Parkypants. Prove me wrong.”

I make a show of puckering my lips. “Nah, I’m done fighting,” I say and plant my lips on the tip of his nose.

“I hope not,” Sonny says, bumping my face back and moving his lips where his nose was. “If we never fight, how will we make up?”

I smileand peck his nose again.

Am I a nose person? How is his nose this attractive? The cartilage is so symmetrical and the feeling is so satisfying against my lips that I kiss it again.

“Uh, you’re making out with my nose. I’m not sure I’m okay with this.”

My head rocks back and I laugh at the sky. The sound is too loud without the jets, and I reach past Sonny to press the button. A moment later, the Jacuzzi roars back to life.

“I love you,” Sonny says.

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