Page 167 of Holidating
“Exactly like that,” he says. “If you’re up for it.”
“Okay, yes,” she says, her brain still running at a fraction of its usual capacity. “Um, you pick a night. I’ll just be here anyway, reading the slush pile for work and avoiding my family.”
He chuckles even though she wasn’t trying to be funny. “All right. I’ll text you tomorrow?”
“All right,” she says. And then she takes a step backward, so she isn’t tempted to lunge at him again.
“Good night,” he says. “Can’t wait to see you again.’’ He leans in and kisses her cheekbone smoothly. “Call me if you need me,” he says, just like in the olden days.
After he leaves, she closes the door and listens to the sound of his car receding back down the long drive.
Even when it’s silent, though, she stands there, two fingers pressed against the spot on her cheekbone where he kissed her goodbye. Her mind is static, but her body buzzes with desire. She feels like a teenager who just had her first real kiss.
Arguably, she just did. It’s suddenly obvious that the handful of people she’s kissed before weren’t nearly as good at it.
Okay, well, that’s exciting. And a little intimidating.
She kicks off her shoes and tosses her jacket onto a hook. Then she pulls out her phone and crosses the room to collapse on the couch.
She makes a call, and Cici answers on the second ring. “God, save me from my cousin’s children,” she says by way of a greeting. “You okay? Was your dad an asshole during dinner? Do you need bail money?”
The family Thanksgiving meal feels like it happened in another lifetime. “Um, I stormed out,” she said. “After the fifth critique of my divorce. I waskeeping a count.”
“Oh ouch,” she says. “Your dad is a piece of work.”
That’s true, of course, and she’s happy to have someone else agree with her about this.
The wild thing, though, is that Cici is willing to discuss this. One weird twist to the end of her marriage was getting Cici back as a close friend.
“Maybe it’s counterintuitive,” her old prep-school roommate had said during the aftermath. “But you and Cam never made sense to me. And I couldn’t take the pressure. I thought one of you would eventually break the other one’s heart. But it sucks to be right.”
“I guess you had good instincts,” Nicolette had said sheepishly.
Now they can speak openly about the divorce. And Cam knows better than to bring it up with his sister, because there was only one cheater in this marriage, and it was Cam.
But none of that matters right this second. “Remember the taxi driver?” she blurts.
“Ohhim,” Cici says with a laugh. “You haven’t spoken about him in years. Did you see him?”
“You could say that. I just kissed him.”
Cici makes a squeak of excitement. “Omigod, hang on. I have to sneak away.” A moment later, Nicolette hears a door slam. “Okay!” her friend says a little breathlessly. “What happened?”
Nicolette tells her the whole wild tale—about the origin of the photos, which Cici has seen, and about summoning Damien to yell at him.
And about Thanksgiving.
And the kiss.
“This is amazing,” Cici gushes. “What are you going to wear on your date? Don’t forget the good lingerie. Something sexy.”
“Slow your roll,” Nicolette says with a laugh. “I’m not going to sleep with him.”
“Oh, but you are,” Cici insists. “You two have so much chemistry you won’t want to hold back.”
Nicolette squeezes her eyes shut. “That would be a mistake, though. I just got out of a marriage.”
“And so what?” her friend demands. “There’s not enough passion in your life. There never was.”
