Just a Little Kiss

by Renita Pizzitola

  Though I wanted to plead with her, promise I’d do anything to make it up to her, I knew she needed the space and time to think. If I pushed it too fast, too soon, she’d bolt. Having her here mad was better than nothing. “I understand.” I waited, hoping she’d give me something more, but she remained quiet. Motionless. “Are you sure you don’t want the bed?”

  She shook her head.

  I turned and left the room but waited in the hall, listening for…I don’t know what. Maybe I was still scared she’d leave, or maybe I just needed to know she was okay, but after a moment or so passed, she lay down and cried. And it crushed me.

  I didn’t know how to make it better either. If I went to her, would it help or make her angrier? Even if she needed this moment to herself, could I ignore it? Regardless, I couldn’t leave her crying on the damn couch.

  Fuck it.

  I went to her and found her with her face buried, blanket over her head. My hands went under her, and I scooped her up again.

  “Put me down.”

  She wiggled, so I tightened my grip.

  “I know you think I’m an asshole, but I can’t let you sleep on the fucking couch.” I walked down the hall as she squirmed against me.

  “I want the couch.”

  “Well, that’s too bad because you get the bed.”

  “I don’t want the bed.”

  “I’m sleeping on the couch, so unless you plan to sleep with me, you’re taking the bed.”

  “You’re insanely frustrating.”

  “Says the most frustrating girl I know,” I muttered.

  A little sob broke free and I stiffened, wondering if those words brought back memories for her too. They’d just popped out, but the last time they were said we’d been just trying to figure things out. We’d had a whole relationship potentially ahead of us; now it seemed to all be coming to an end.

  “Felicity,” I sighed. I sat on the bed, still cradling her, and gently ran my hand over her hair, trying to comfort her. “It’s just a place to sleep. C’mon, you’re being stubborn. I’m being stubborn. But that’s what we do. I want things my way; you want them yours. And we love to drive each other crazy, but tonight I need you to take the bed. I hate myself so much right now and I need this. Okay? I need to do this one last thing for you.”

  She blinked tears away and finally looked up. And she looked so perfect. Her eyes might have been red, but somehow that just accentuated the green hidden within the gray. And though her hair was loose and kind of everywhere, it just framed her face that much more perfectly.

  I caressed her cheek, brushing my thumb under her eye to rid her face of tears shed because of me, then I pushed my fingers into her hair and leaned in. Kissing her was probably the last thing she wanted, but I couldn’t resist doing something to comfort her…and maybe myself too. When she made no move to stop me, I brushed my lips against hers, hesitantly. And then, to my complete shock, her fingers delicately grazed my jaw.

  I pulled her to me and covered her mouth completely with mine. But I moved without hurry, wanting to savor this moment out of fear it’d be our last.

  She slid her fingers behind my neck, pulling me closer.

  With my arms wrapped around her, I shifted, placing her on the bed, and the intensity of the kiss picked up. Her tongue traced the seam of my lips then slipped between them. She explored my mouth, deepening the kiss, then pulled back and pressed her teeth into my bottom lip. It hurt in the best possible way, the pain a reminder of how anger and frustration could drive passion just as much as lust and love. But was that all this was? Bottled-up anger? I wanted this kiss to mean something, but I worried that for her it was filled with all the wrong emotions.

  The kiss went on longer than I expected her to allow. And next to our first, it was easily the best one we’d ever shared. It was as sensual as it was rough. As perfect as it was chaotic. Lips, teeth, tongue, we held nothing back.

  But then it was over.

  She pulled back, her breath ragged, and stared at me.

  I blinked her into focus and examined her mouth, running my thumb over her tender, red lips. I brushed another kiss over them, as if it could alleviate any pain I might have caused, but I knew it’d never help. The damage my mouth had caused tonight wouldn’t be found on her lips, or anywhere else on her body. No, it was worse. So much worse. My words left the kind of bruises that weren’t so easily healed. The kind found buried inside.

  I pulled back and studied her, wishing I could know exactly what she was thinking at that moment, but then I saw without a doubt something I wish I’d never seen. She was letting go…and not of fear, or anger…but instead…of me.

  “Mason.”

  “Don’t say it.” Tears pricked at my eyes, and I shook my head. “Please don’t fucking say it, Felicity.”

  It literally hurt to breathe as she whispered, “Stop.”

  The finality of that word sent a crushing blow to my chest. I crumbled on top of her, knowing there was no getting back what we had.

  She lay stiff and rigid under me, her hands tightly balled by her sides. Her mind was made up.

  I rolled to the side and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ll help you with your bags in the morning.” Then I stood and walked out of the room, needing to break down, but not in front of her.

  Chapter 30

  Felicity

  I stood in front of my photograph, smiling and thanking the exhibit patrons as they offered compliments on my piece, but unable to look at it for myself.

  This photo never would have been my choice to show tonight, but Elise had convinced me it was my best. She might have been right, but it stirred memories of things I was still trying to bury.

  It had been two weeks since the day Mason had quietly loaded my suitcase into my car. Two weeks since he stood next to my driver-side door, waiting for me to change my mind. And two weeks since I forced myself not to look back as I drove away.

  Now, here I was again, forcing myself not to look back.

  The photo—titled Honey Moon—was a shot I’d captured from the pier at night. It was a gorgeous photo. Thin clouds brushed across the sky, which was illuminated by a full moon casting its honey-colored glow far and wide. Not only did it expand the horizon, but the reflection on the water was breathtaking. Everything had a stunning amber tint…everything except Mason, who was leaning against the cabin of his uncle’s boat, with a small smile as if he was witnessing something beautiful for the very first time…except his gaze wasn’t focused on the annual Honey Moon. It was focused on the camera. Or more accurately, the person behind it. Me.

  His inclusion had been sheer coincidence. I’d been tweaking the colors in this photo one afternoon, trying to play up the moon’s reflection on the water, when I discovered I’d unknowingly captured him. I flipped through some of the other shots where I’d played with shutter speed for lighting, and there he was, in full focus. I combined the clear shot of him with the horizon shot just to see what it would look like. But Elise wasn’t supposed to see my creation. Had I known she’d walk up right then, I probably would have cropped him out from the get-go.

  Needless to say, she fell in love with the photo. She’d begged and pleaded with me to use it for the show, but she had no idea what this picture meant to me. It was taken the night Mason told me he was there to stay. That he was my future. And the day I decided to let him in. It was the start of it all. Before everything went to shit. Our honeymoon.

  No matter how much I’d tried to convince myself otherwise, I wasn’t over Mason. But that was too personal to share, so to avoid confessing why I both loved and hated this photo, I agreed.

  So now here I was, with the guy my brain needed to forget—but my heart refused to—captured in sixteen-by-twenty glory behind me.

  Elise walked by and gently squeezed my shoulder. “How’s it going?”

  Though she knew something had happened between Mason and me, she hadn’t pried for details. Instead, she’d been watching me carefully over th
e last two weeks. Constantly bringing me food, claiming she’d ordered too much. Or bags of cookies, saying she’d had an insatiable sweet tooth lately but needed them out of the house before she ate them all. Clearly, she was feeding me. Comfort food to heal my broken heart. I accepted her gifts, but nothing seemed to soothe the pain.

  I forced a smile. “It’s going great.”

  She studied me for a second then nodded. “Good.” She turned around and placed a sold card on my photograph then glanced back at me, maybe wondering if I’d have some sort of objection.

  But I was glad to have it gone. I didn’t care what the final price tag had been. It was a silent auction, and all the money went toward the school’s art program. I’d hoped my picture brought in something helpful, but I was ready to give it away at this point.

  Elise rubbed a small circle on my back before walking away.

  “Some asshole outbid me.”

  I spun around and stared at Isla.

  “Oh my God, what are you doing here?”

  “You didn’t really think I’d miss this, did you?” She smiled and then tugged me into a hug. “I’ve missed you.”

  “God, I’ve missed you too.”

  She stepped back. “I’m sorry.”

  I waved her off. “You have nothing be sorry about.”

  I’d briefly mentioned the role her text played in the Mason situation, but I didn’t blame her. Not one tiny bit. It had revealed the person he was sooner. Saved me from a long road of heartache, I’m sure. I’d also confessed to her that I believed she was right about my anxiety. And though knowing about it didn’t change who I was, it did help me stop and evaluate my over-thinking. I was slowly learning to gauge when my questioning and fear were warranted, and when it was the anxiety talking. Though it was hard to come to terms with at first, I was so grateful Isla discussed it with me.

  I glanced around. “Did you come by yourself?”

  “Actually, I drove up with Colby, but we are driving home tonight. We both have to work tomorrow.”

  I frowned. “You aren’t staying the night?”

  “I’m sorry. But I promise as soon as I get some time off, I’ll spend a whole weekend with you.”

  “Where’s Colby?”

  “Um, I don’t know. Around, I guess.”

  “So what made you two come up together?” I nudged her. “Any new developments I should know about?”

  “I’ll let you know tomorrow. I’m planning on seducing him on the car ride home.”

  I laughed. “Why not on the way up?”

  “I was scared he’d turn around.”

  I’d missed this girl so much it wasn’t funny. Seeing her made me all the more homesick, something I thought could never happen. I hadn’t expected to miss Port Lucia. But God, did I ever. I missed the life I had there. Preferably the one that involved Mason.

  “So why did you bid on my picture? I have the file. I could always make you a copy if you really wanted it.”

  “I was being supportive, but really, girl, I love you and all, but my bank account can’t handle more than one zero.”

  I pulled her into a side hug. “No offense, but I’m glad you didn’t win. I sure as hell don’t want to ever come to your house and find that picture hanging in it.”

  She laughed. “You’re crazy. It’s gorgeous.”

  “It’s Mason.”

  She glanced back, a small smile curving her mouth, then she whispered, “Yeah, but I know what put that look on his face.”

  Against my better judgment, I turned around and took in the shadowy Mason tucked into the corner of my picture. I missed that face too.

  “Hey, I need to find Colby. But, uh.”—she dug through her purse—“I need to give this to you first.”

  “It better not be what you gave me last time from your purse.”

  She grinned. “Nope. It’s better.” She pulled out a white envelope and handed it to me.

  “Did you get me a card?”

  Her grin widened. “Open it,” she called as she walked away.

  Inside the envelope was a picture of an arrow. Literally nothing else. What the heck?

  I flipped it over and there was a word scrawled across it. Outside. I glanced up and technically, the arrow was pointing to the front exit. Was I supposed to go there?

  I looked around for Isla but she’d vanished. Who knew what she was up to? Since my picture had sold, I didn’t really need to stick around, so I followed the arrow and stepped through the front door. But there was nothing there.

  I waited for a moment, wondering what was supposed to happen next, but finally gave up and turned to head back inside. But something dark attached to the back of the parking meter caught my eye. Another photo? I stepped closer and saw a picture of Isla and myself taken at work. I pulled it down and flipped it over. This one had two words: The moments.

  What the heck was this? I glanced around and spotted another photo a few feet away on a bike rack. I rushed over and yanked down the shot from the fish fry at Colby’s. Everyone was in it. Including Mason…and his frustrating little I’ll-kiss-you-when-I-want-to-kiss-you smirk. If this was Isla’s plan to entice me to go home, it was working. Because dammit if these pictures weren’t making me want to pack my crap and leave tonight. Of course, this picture also reminded me of my first kiss with Mason. I flipped it over and read: are too numerous to count.

  Was that it? The moments are too numerous to count?

  I scanned the area for another photo and spotted it taped to the building. I rushed over but paused, my hand a few inches from a picture of myself in the kitchen on my houseboat.

  In the photo I was glancing over my shoulder, smiling back at someone. The only other person who’d been there that day. Mason. He was always texting or checking email, and I thought nothing of seeing him with his phone out, but he must have secretly snapped a picture.

  I carefully pulled it down and flipped it over. But day by day…

  Day by day? That was my promise to Mason. I stared at all the photos in my hand. What was this?

  I searched the path along the building but saw nothing, then turned the corner and spotted something flapping on a bench. I rushed down the sidewalk and snagged the photo.

  Mason and I together on my couch. He’d been trying to snap a shot of us and ended up cutting half of his own face off. I’d teased him that he sucked at selfies, but secretly I’d been disappointed that I didn’t have a good shot of him.

  My hands trembled a bit as I flipped it over. Minute to minute…

  I swallowed hard, trying to clear the tightening of my throat, then looked up. I moved in a complete circle, but there was no one around. Where was he?

  My gaze landed on a tree.

  Three pictures this time. One from our road trip. One taken on the pier. And one from the day before he left Port Lucia.

  I flipped all three over, but the words were scrambled so I rearranged them to make sense of the message.

  Every. Single. Second.

  My eyes welled up. I wasn’t sure where this scavenger hunt would lead, but I had to find the end…or at least the person at the end of it.

  There was a water fountain not far away, and it was the only place I could think to look. And I’d been right. Taped at the bottom was a picture of us taken the day I’d moved in with him. My hair was a complete mess, splayed on his pillow after we’d plopped onto his bed. Not to mention, I looked exhausted from my long drive and unpacking, but he’d at least managed to get both of us in the shot.

  I flipped it over and sucked in a breath as I read: I fell deeper in love with you.

  Oh my God. I spun around but still saw no sight of him. Where the hell was he?

  I rushed to an area with benches, thinking he might be there, but it was empty. Taped to one of the benches was another photo though. This one happened to be my favorite. His aunt had taken it at her studio one day, and it was the only picture we’d had of the two of us that had been taken by someone else. But as far as I knew
, I was the only one with a copy of this picture…unless he went to his aunt for one. Did she know about this? The first picture had to have come from Isla. The second one from Colby. And now Elise? How many people were in on this?

  I plopped down on the bench, not sure where I was supposed to go from there. Was this just his way of getting this message to me? I stared at the last card: in love…

  Did this change anything? Could I forgive him for hurting me?

  He freaking loved me…

  Wait? Was that another picture? I jumped up and rushed to a sign. The tape had come loose on one corner, so the picture was dangling. But it was another arrow. I read the back: And it all started…

  Started? What started? Where? I spun around, trying to figure out where the arrow was supposed to have pointed before it fell down. I thought back to how it had been hanging and flipped it up. Toward the trees. It had to be.

  I passed by the first tree, seeing that there was nothing on it, but stopped short because coming into view right behind it was my photo. Honey Moon. And in the place of the sold sign was a new one. And it only had one simple word: Here.

  I walked up to the photo, which had been propped up against a tree, and dropped to my knees, spreading the pictures out in front of me so I could reread the entire message.

  The moments are too numerous to count. But day by day…minute to minute…Every. Single. Second. I fell deeper in love with you. And it all started…here.

  “I’m sorry.”

  My gaze lifted from the pictures, and I glanced over my shoulder toward Mason. It’s funny how only two weeks away made me cherish what I saw that much more. Like the way his hair always brushed his forehead, and how his eyes could be so dark yet filled with so much emotion. It was easy to take for granted what I saw every day, but after our time apart, it was like seeing him anew.

  He continued. “For everything. For jumping to conclusions. For being an asshole. But most of all, I’m sorry for ruining what we had. I don’t expect you to ever feel the same way about me again, but at least know that I regret the things I said and did that day.”

  I turned back to the pictures and stared down at his message. He wasn’t the only one who’d jumped to conclusions. Nor was he the only one who’d been too stubborn to listen. We both knew I’d done the exact same thing and he’d forgiven me. But…he’d abandoned me. He pushed me away, knowing he was all I had here. After he’d told me he’d never do that to me. He’d completely broken my trust.