Page 38 of Wish For Me

“There.”

Nothing’s operating properly. My head is swimming. That heat surges through my whole body. “No,” I say.

“No?” Her eyebrows bunch.

“That’s only a quarter percent. If that.” I splay my hands over Noelle’s hips, pulling her toward me.

Noelle’s pupils dilate. “What’s a full percent look like?”

My hands flex against Noelle, and then move as if on their own. One slips against the back of her neck, while the other holds her tucked up against me. Then I crash my lips against hers.

I wasn’t lying when I said I leaped into the air when I found out I’d be on the first lunar mission in decades.

But this—the sensation of finally kissing Noelle like this again after years of fighting not to—after years of only remembering it… I struggle to describe it. The soft warmth of her, the sweep of my tongue against hers, the way her body melts against me… this is weightlessness.

This is like we’re in the stars together.

I break the kiss, my heart thundering. Can she hear it? “Do you know why I really want to go to space?” I whisper against her lips.

“Why?”

I brush a thumb over her lips. “I need to see the stardust you’re made of.”

For a moment, our eyes remain locked, our breath intermingling. Then I kiss her again, falling into my Noelle.

She really is made of the stars.

“Found the mistletoe, huh?” A voice says.

We break apart, gasping for air. Noelle brushes her hand over her mouth; the spot I’d just been. I don’t want to stop. I want to carry her to the car and drive her anywhere, hell, the side of the road, and show her the depth of my feelings toward her.

But an older man in a big black coat over gray coveralls stands before us. He points a thick finger up to the concrete overhang above our heads. A cedar bough has fallen from a nearby tree and extends over us. It’s not mistletoe. It looks nothing like mistletoe.

But I smile anyway. “I guess we did.”

He chuckles.

After he’s passed through the door, I turn back to Noelle. My chest hurts to look at her.

But she’s got her arms up, doing something at the back of her neck. I only see what it is when she pulls the necklace out of her shirt. It’s that gold chain with the tiny clover on it.

“You keep this,” she says, closing my hand around it. “I’ll feel better if you have it.” She looks up. “Merry Christmas, Leif. This year and next.”

CHAPTER10

Noelle

ONE YEAR LATER

I’m sitting at my vanity, chewing on the end of a pen, when a knock on my dressing room door sounds.

“Come in.”

My assistant Marissa pops her head in the door. She’s stunning, with big green eyes, deep brown skin, and her curls cropped tight to her head.

“He says you’ve got half an hour.”

“Right.”

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