Page 55 of The Kiss Class

“He’s given me more than I deserve,” I mutter, knowing that he put up with several stupid scandals with me at the center this past year.

“He’s tough for sure, but he’s also forgiving and usually gives second chances.”

“How about third chances? Fourth? Fifth? Tenth?” I’ve lost track.

“Speaking of thirds, this is class number three.”

I tut. “Getting right down to business, I see.”

“What else would we do?”

I can think of a few things, but can you blame me for looking forward to kissing this woman again?

Cara has me take off my boots. “Santa Baby” plays vaguely in the background. I peer around, noticing the grand piano and a few other instruments in the front room along with a sofa and Christmas tree. The wall covered in family photos makes me feel like I’m in a museum of Cara, but since she’s a triplet, I’m not sure who’s who.

Pointing at a picture of the three sisters at a lake, I ask, “How do people tell you apart?”

“Dad has always been able to. There are slight differences, height for one—they have three-quarters of an inch onme. Our mother gave us color labels. Anna was purple, Ilsa was red, and I’m pink.”

“Like your coat?”

She nods. “It’s become a habit. We all kind of gravitate to our assigned colors.”

I study the photos and notice their coordinating bathing suits. “You were adorable.”

Cara grunts. “I was the nerd of the bunch. The brains. Ilsa is a talented musician.” She gestures to the instruments as we exit the sitting room. “If you find muddy boots, a terrarium filled with some rare species of plant, aka a weed, and sticky burrs, you know Anna is nearby.”

We enter the kitchen that features modern appliances yet is cozy with Christmas decorations and a cookie jar on the counter.

“I’m not going to lie, I’m terrified your father is going to appear from behind a closed door.” And I can’t quite piece together that Badaszek lives here and not in a lair draped with pelts and smoked meats.

“Before my sisters left for the play, we all video-called. He’s definitely in Colorado.” She mentions the coaches’ meeting.

“I’m glad we don’t have to play on Christmas Eve or Christmas, but I’m sorry your dad can’t be here with you.”

“Thanks. It’s okay, we have plans to spend time together this summer. I have a feeling he’s going to hate the gift my sisters and I got him.” She bites her lip.

“Hate it? What did you get him? A giant cardboard cutout of me?”

She laughs. “A month-long trip to Europe with us—my sisters and their spouses included. We saved up for it for four years.”

“That’s so generous. Why would Badaszek hate that?”

She wears a playful grin. “Because it’ll mean he can’t keep an eye on you guys.”

“I think we can manage to behave ourselves for a month.”

She slants her head. “Can you?”

“I’m working on my New Year’s resolutions.”

“Polls show that only eight percent of people stick with their goals for the first month. Hashtag New Year’s Resolutions Fail.”

“Maybe I’ll start now. Give myself a head start.”

Cara raises her eyebrows in question. “What are your resolutions?”

I glance around, hoping we’re not being surveilled by Badaszek. “I’m going to lose the reputation, get rid of the puck bunny association.”

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