Page 102 of What's in a Kiss?

“Olivia, go home.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

I find the note on the kitchen counter in our empty house. It’s written on hotel stationery from the Hotel Fasano in Rio de Janeiro.

Liv,

Went to Zuma to clear my head. Packed your board. I’ll be at our spot.

Love,

J

P.S. Sunset’s at 6:14.

What I’m not used to about marriage—at least this particular marriage—is that a person can be mad at their spouse and still want to see them. Jake and I haven’t made up. I owe him several deep apologies for how I behaved in Catalina. Still, I feel between the lines of his note the undertow of his love.

It touches me and amazes me and stumps me (whereisour spot?). And even though I’ve never mounted a surfboard in my life, I know I’ll be there, wearing a wet suit and my heart on my sleeve.

I picture Jake writing this note: hips pressed lightly againstthe counter, one beautiful bare foot crossed over the other, sexy reading glasses on. I can see the way his elegant fingers held the pen. There’s a ring of condensation on the marble countertop from his tangerine La Croix.

I look through the kitchen window, yearning to remember our stay at the Fasano hotel. I wish I could access what the shampoo smelled like, whether we had an ocean or a garden view. Did our luggage get lost? What carefree Brazilian clothes did we buy in the meantime? I want to remember making love at sunrise, on fancy sheets after a sultry night of samba in secret clubs.

But this stationery sparks no memories. There’s no nostalgia in its fibers. I feel only blankness, a cold and empty hole. As good as it feels to be with Jake, I’m not a part of his past. I need to find Yogi Rabbi Dan and go home.

But first, one more sunset with my perfect husband.

I feed Gram Parsons and head toward the master suite to change. I want to pack this evening’s beauty into my heart like a souvenir I can keep with me forever. One night away from him, and I’m so jittery to reunite I feel like I’ve shotgunned seven cups of coffee.

How will I make it if I go home? If I have to spend the rest of my life without him?

I face myself in the bathroom mirror. “Maybe I don’t have to. Maybe I can stay.” But not even my reflection looks convinced.

What if I never have another love like this? How could anyone ever have another love like this?

My limbs feel heavy as I rummage through my bathroom drawers for sunscreen. I still don’t know where anything is inthis house. The bottom drawer’s track gets stuck on something, and when I tug it, it springs loose all at once—and a folded pamphlet flies out.

What to Expect After Your Miscarriage

“What?” I whisper, dropping to my knees on the bathroom tile. One hand clutches my womb in disbelief. The other shakes as I open the pamphlet. My gaze falls on fine print highlighted neon yellow.After three months, most women’s bodies are ready to conceive again.

I cover my mouth with my hand. The pamphlet is stapled to a hospital discharge document with my name listed next toPatient, along with the wordsectopic pregnancy, emergency D&C.

I had an ectopic D&C? The emergency procedure necessary to end a pregnancy that takes root in the fallopian tubes? And not eventhisI remember?

I couldn’t feel it. I had no idea. It makes me ashamed of my cluelessness. I think of the couples counseling Jake mentioned us going to—I hadn’t understood the reason for it. I thought starting a family was hypothetical, somewhere in the distant future. I had no idea about the loss we’ve already been through. The realization is so devastating, it makes me woozy. I search through other items in the drawer. A prescription for pain medicine from the time of my hospital discharge. A half-used box of maxi pads. An envelope with my name on it. Jake’s handwriting.

I open it and pull out the homemade card, written on the back of a photo of the kiss from the balcony scene of Zeffirelli’sRomeo and Juliet.

I touch my fingers to the lovers. I think of our kiss at prom, how young and naive we were, how brave we were to take thatchance, to lean over the edge into a kiss that carried us all the way here.

Dear Olivia,

I didn’t know I could love you more than I always already have. But when our hearts broke open last week, even more love came flowing in. We don’t feel it yet, but we’re stronger. And we’re lucky. We have each other. We’ll try again. Imagine all the kisses...

Yours forever everywhere,

Jake

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