Kiss Me Like You Missed Me

by Taylor Holloway

  “This is Cole,” Kate told Cameron, introducing us. “Cole, this is my friend Cameron. We met through Emma’s old roommate Lily. She even worked at the bar for a little bit a couple years ago.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said politely. It wasn’t that Cameron didn’t seem nice and all, but I didn’t want to share Kate. Lucky for me, Maya seemed like she didn’t want to share her mom, either. She immediately began fussing when Cameron shifted her into Kate’s arms to shake my hand.

  The picture of Kate holding the little girl seared into my consciousness like someone took a tattoo gun to the inside of my corneas. All of a sudden, a vision of a different life, a life that included Kate and kids that looked just like Kate but smaller, played out in a millisecond. I found myself thinking how much fulfillment it would bring me to protect and cherish our children. That was new. And terrifying.

  “Likewise,” Cameron was saying, instantly reclaiming her kid, who was now fussing loud enough to make Kate pout. The dream-version of my future vanished, and I found myself missing it and being simultaneously very relieved it was gone. “I think it’s time for Bat-Maya to go eat a snack,” she said apologetically.

  “Call me!” Kate called after Cameron, and she grinned and nodded over her shoulder, trying to wrangle her red-faced baby at the same time. “Babies always cry when I hold them,” Kate told me a second later. “I’m cursed. I think I must be scary or something.”

  “Me too,” I admitted. “According to my uncle Jimmy, a baby can sense fear. If you’re scared, it makes them scared.”

  Kate smirked at me and then laughed. “Well that explains it!” She bit her bottom lip. “I like kids a lot, you know, but I’m secretly always terrified I’m gonna’ drop them on their little heads or something and they’ll just explode like eggs,” she whispered. Her eyes were wide like she was telling me some deep, dark secret.

  “I like kids, too,” I told her honestly, “but I like them a lot better from a distance at this point in my life.”

  “Do you have any siblings?” she asked me, looking at me as if she should have already known the answer.

  I shrugged. I’d never really considered my family as being different or incomplete, although objectively I knew my situation was a bit unique. “Biologically? Maybe. But no, in every way that matters, I was an only child.”

  “That must have been nice,” Kate replied wistfully, but I could tell it was facetious. She and Ward got along well enough to successfully run a business together, and although neither wanted to admit it, they were close friends in addition to being siblings. I couldn’t help but envy their family and its closeness. Still…

  “I was really lucky to be adopted by my mom,” I told her as the bat cruise began to turn back towards the dock. “She wanted to be a mother so bad, and she was great at it.” My mom didn’t let her lack of interest in romance or husbands get in the way of her maternal instinct. Single women didn’t have the easiest time with adoption agencies, either. But she fought them until she won me, and I was sure she did as good a job or better than any couple.

  “Your mom raised you all alone?” Kate asked, looking at me with an expression that made me wonder if she was trying to avoid poking any sore spots that I might have about my family. She didn’t need to worry. My upbringing was fairly idyllic.

  “Yep. Well, not really. We lived with my uncle Jimmy, who was actually my mom’s uncle and my great-uncle. He raised her too since her parents died when she was little, so if you want to get technical about it, you could say my Uncle Jimmy is my uncle, my great-uncle, my dad, and my grandfather.” Kate looked at me for permission to laugh and I nodded, joining in, and then adding, “I know it’s weird. Trust me. I know.”

  “Very Arkansas,” she said.

  “Yep. The only place a rich, adopted kid can also sound like he’s an inbred hillbilly.”

  “But you grew up with a cook?”

  “A housekeeper who cooked,” I corrected, and she rolled her eyes at the distinction.

  “Where did the money come from?” she asked. “Your mom?”

  “My uncle Jimmy made a fortune in the eighties. He invented a type of industrial insulation and patented it.”

  “An industrial insulator?” She arched an eyebrow. “How come I can’t invent something lame that’s worth a bunch of money? I have weird ideas all the time, but none of them are for stuff that people would want to pay money for.”

  “If it makes you feel better, he didn’t invent it until he was almost forty.”

  She brightened. “That actually does make me feel better. I’ve still got time.”

  There’s always time, I thought. Side by side with Kate on the boat, I watched the last sliver of sunlight disappear over the water and I remembered something else that Jimmy once told me. Unlike his usual Hillbilly-isms, this was real advice. It was during the most awkward of my middle school years, when I was growing at a dramatically uneven rate. I looked like a giraffe-human hybrid at twelve: I’d grown out of my baby fat blubber, but suddenly my limbs and neck were too long, and I had no bulk whatsoever. My looks would all change for the better in a few years, but at the time I was human birth control: girls found me repulsive.

  One day Jimmy found me sobbing and rejected in my room one afternoon and sat next to me in silence until I told him what happened. It wasn’t a remarkable story. Boy meets girl, boy likes girl, girl tells boy she’d rather kiss a toad. I went home and cried like a baby for hours.

  Jimmy listened to my sob story and told me not to worry. He said that no matter the problem, no matter its complexity, everything was fixable as long as I had time. Since I was only twelve, I had plenty of time. Time is the only real independent variable in any problem, he said, proving that he’d once been an engineer.

  Looking over at Kate, I knew Jimmy was right. We still had time to fix whatever needing fixing. We still had time to build whatever trust needed building between us. She caught me staring at her and smiled back at me, still wearing a guarded expression, although I thought it was at least slightly less mistrustful than it had been. I knew that I was making progress.

  “Do you want to go have a drink after this?” Kate asked, cocking her head to the side and shifting closer to me until I could feel her body heat and smell her light perfume. My heart beat sped up. “I don’t want to keep you up past your bedtime,” she teased, although her voice was also hopeful. Her vivid blue eyes caught the lights from the city. They flashed passionately.

  “Are you sure?” I teased back, rising to the challenge. “Because there’s nothing I’d like more than to have you keeping me up until dawn. Don’t you threaten me with a good time.” My voice was hopeful, too. Maybe too hopeful, because Kate blushed bright pink.

  Go slow, I reminded myself. We’ve got time.

  17

  Kate

  The bar at the Driskill hotel was busy on Friday night. I hadn’t been here in ages, years actually, but it looked the just the same. Since the place was built back in the eighteen hundreds I supposed it made sense that they wouldn’t feel pressured to frequently redecorate. Cole and I sipped lovely, fashionable cocktails in cushy armchairs and I felt ridiculously fancy.

  In my teenage fantasies, Cole and I hadn’t talked as much as we did on our date. We were always busy doing… other things. Naked things, mostly. I found myself surprised by how much I enjoyed just talking to him.

  It was even more than just enjoyment, too. I was voracious for information about him. Starved for it. I felt like I’d never get enough.

  “Why did you move back to Austin?” I asked, thinking it would have been easy for him to go anywhere with the money he’d made in the NFL. Unexpectedly, he shrugged.

  “I don’t know,” he said. He looked a little bit self-conscious about the decision. “I didn’t really think it through as much as I probably should have. It just seemed like a good idea to go where I had friends.” His smile seemed to hint that I was one of his friends, and it made me feel warm inside.


  “Plus, you know where all the good bars are,” I offered.

  “That too.”

  “Did you end up calling Tiffany?” I probed, both because I was curious and because I felt like I needed to know that she wasn’t going to be a threat to me.

  Cole nodded. “Yeah, but she won’t take me on as a client. I’m too indecisive about what I want, probably. She said she’d talk to the other agents in her office and that someone would be reaching out to me soon to look at places. Do you want to come look at properties with me next weekend?”

  I blinked in surprise. “Really?” This wasn’t quite as good as when he’d offered to let me dress him up, but it was close.

  He misinterpreted my shock for reluctance. “I mean, only if you want to…”

  “I want to!” I said it so enthusiastically he laughed.

  “It’s a date then,” he replied after a second. The heat was back in his eyes again, and I was starting to wonder where this night would end up. We were already at a hotel…

  “Do you like working at the bar?” Cole asked, shattering my sexy daydream.

  I thought about his question for a moment before answering.

  “I guess so,” I told him with a shrug. “I mean, it’s not exactly my dream job, but I’m pretty good at it, the work isn’t difficult, and I make enough money to do the things I want to do.” There were a lot of people that didn’t have it as good as I did. Sure, I wasn’t a professional football player or anything, but I’d done well for a millennial. I didn’t have to wear a nametag at my job or sit in a cubicle. Was it perfect? No. But I knew I should be grateful for my opportunities, not resentful of them.

  “What is your dream job, then?” Cole followed up. He seemed genuinely interested in the answer, and for some reason, I wanted to tell him the secret I didn’t even trust Ward with. The alcohol may have also contributed to my bravery.

  “I want to run a boutique,” I whispered excitedly.

  “What kind of boutique? Clothes?”

  “No, Lingerie. You wouldn’t believe how many women are out there wearing ugly lingerie. Bras that doesn’t fit them. Shapewear that doesn’t flatter them. Hosiery that makes them uncomfortable instead of sexy. Victoria’s Secret is selling women trash. Horrible, cheaply made, overpriced trash. The right lingerie is more important than the right clothes, believe it or not. Well fitting, well-made foundations make a woman look ten years younger and twenty pounds lighter. I’m not even kidding. It does. And that says nothing of the struggle that some women have just finding their size. I want to make women look better in all their clothes, not just the clothes they buy from me. It should be a positive experience to buy lingerie, and my store will be inclusive of different styles, body types, and price ranges. I like the idea of selling people that sort of glamorous experience that people used to have when they went to their local department store. That they could walk in looking like one sort of person and walk out looking like their best self… it would be awesome!” I ended my monologue and instantly felt a hot flush creep over me. That was quite a pronouncement I’d just made.

  Cole looked mystified by me. “You want to open a lingerie shop?” he asked. When I nodded, he smiled and shook his head. “That’s so you.” When I just continued to look at him wide-eyed, he added, “you should do it. It sounds cool.”

  I shifted uncomfortably. “It’s just a dream. I won’t ever have the money to open a big store like that right off the bat, but I’ve put some money away and I’m saving. In a couple of years, I’ll hopefully be able to have a little shop somewhere. Everyone’s got to start somewhere, right? I don’t expect everything to happen overnight. I need to make sure the market can support it first.”

  “If any market could support something like that, it would be Austin,” Cole said. I nodded.

  “I think so too,” I told him. Looking around the Driskill bar right at that moment, I could see the women there shopping in my store. There was a brunette to my right that was wearing a lovely pair of clearly vintage, bright blue pumps. She was wearing fishnets, but she ought to be wearing a pair of silk stockings and a garter belt that complemented her 1940’s pin-up aesthetic better. She’d be more comfortable too. Sitting at the high-top tables to my left, a woman with blond to bubblegum pink ombre hair was carrying a new, trendy Fendi purse. I bet I could sell her a French lace negligee or fine damask boned corset. And of course, all women needed bras and panties. I knew it would work. I would make it work.

  “If anyone could do this and find success, it would be you,” Cole told me. His confidence made me feel like I was more capable than I probably was, but I didn’t mind. It was nice to be validated.

  “One day,” I said, smiling. “I’ll do it one day.”

  “Have you thought about getting Ward to fund you?” Cole asked carefully.

  I grimaced. “I don’t want to ask him for money.”

  “What about getting investors or a business loan?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to owe money to anyone.” Student debt was the curse of our generation. There was no way I’d willingly go into debt. I didn’t even have a credit card. I was so paranoid about it that I paid for everything in cash.

  “I get that,” Cole said, nodding. “After seeing so many NFL players wreck their lives after living beyond their incomes when they retire, I definitely understand.”

  I’d seen what Ward went through when his NFL career ended before he wanted it to, and so I knew that Cole wasn’t kidding.

  “I’m glad you retired on your own terms,” I told him. The idea of Cole suffering the sort of injury that my brother had endured was bad enough. But it was the psychological gut punch of losing both his livelihood, fiancée, and passion simultaneously had plunged Ward into a yearlong depression. When he came out of it, almost all that was left was his bar. We were both lucky that Willie and I had managed to keep it out of bankruptcy.

  “Me too,” Cole said, and then paused. “I know it was the right decision, but I have to admit, I feel sort-of aimless now.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I think I’m going to buy a car dealership,” he said, and then his lips parted in surprise. “You’re actually the first person I’ve told about that.” Those lips curved up into a smile. “But that’s what I think I’m going to do.”

  “A car dealership?” I tried to picture Cole doing one of those terrible television commercials and failed. “What kind?”

  “BMW. There’s a guy selling his franchise locations right now. He wants to retire, and I think I’m going to buy them.”

  “More than one?”

  “There are eight total. All in central Texas.”

  “No financing, no problem! Call Cole and get in your sweet new ride today. Cole Rylander, BMW dealer. Rylander BMW,” I mused aloud while he watched me with an uncomfortable look on his face. “Can I have a free convertible?” I asked, and then immediately added, “just kidding.” I didn’t want him to think that I was only dating him for the free luxury vehicles. He just shook his head at me and laughed.

  “Maybe I’ll barter you a nice lease on a new convertible if you’ll be the model in my ads,” he teased.

  “Do I have to wear a bikini and lay all sexy-like on the hood?” I did my best, clothed impression of the pose in my armchair.

  “Yes. Definitely,” he joked, framing me in ‘the shot’ with his fingers. “I want to go full Playboy Magazine with it.”

  I arched an eyebrow, arching my back more and pushing out my tits. “Full Playboy? Wouldn’t that be, well, topless?”

  His excited gaze dipped to my chest as if it were an involuntary reflex, and then back up to my face with embarrassment. “Um. Maybe not full Playboy. I don’t think Ward would be too pleased with that.”

  I sighed at him. That comment totally ruined the moment. “Let’s not talk about my brother,” I pleaded, “he’s no fun. I want to have fun.”

  He flashed his white smile at me. “Sorry. You’re right. I want to hav
e fun too.”

  A thought had begun pinging around in my head and the more of my drink that I sipped, the more it sounded like a good idea. “Maybe we should just go upstairs,” I said, looking around and locating the staircase on the other side of the hotel lobby. “If we both really want to have some fun.”

  Cole didn’t seem like he knew what to say to my proposition. A number of different emotions crossed his face in quick succession. None of them stuck around long enough for me to figure out what they were or what they meant. Finally, his face settled on a carefully neutral, totally blank look. “I shouldn’t have bought you that third martini.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “Please. I work in a bar. I drink more than this on a typical shift.” That was a lie. I never drank when I worked; that was beyond stupid—it would be irresponsible. Not only did I work with money, but I was responsible for the safety of our patrons. I could never live myself if someone left our bar and killed themselves or someone else because they were drunk. But at that moment, I wasn’t drunk. Tipsy, but not drunk. I reached out a hand and touched his, seeking heat and comfort, and finding it. “I know what I want.”

  Cole examined my face carefully. He didn’t pull his hand away from underneath mine. If anything, he seemed to be considering my proposition with great interest and seriousness. “Don’t you think we should take things slow?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Why?” I’d never thought much of going slow. About anything, but especially about attraction. Life was short, right? Better to live it up while it lasted. “Carpe Diem,” I told Cole.

  I leaned forward and kissed him like I missed him. Unlike our first kiss which had caught me by surprise, this time I could savor the sensations better: moving in closer to brush his lips with mine, touching the side of his neck with my palm, teasing his tongue with my own and having him steal my breath in return. My emotions swirled and coalesced into desire, pooling between my thighs and setting me alight with anticipation and need. I’d waited a long time for this, and I didn’t want to wait any more.