Page 148 of First-Time Caller
“I know,” he whispers. I slip my hands beneath his sweatshirt, let myself feel the shape of him, and he sighs, dropping his cheek against the top of my head. “I’m gonna love you so good, Lucie.”
I squeeze my eyes shut tight, hoping I can hold on to this moment forever. It’s not perfect. Not even close. There’s something rattling under the raccoon couch. My preteen daughter and both of her dads are staring at us from the car parked in the corner of the lot. An early spring storm is rolling in and my hair is probably doing something ridiculous in the humidity.
But it’s mine. Even in its flaws, this moment is mine.
“Can I kiss you now?” I ask. I tug at him. “Please?”
He doesn’t answer with words. The hand threaded through my hair slips to the nape of my neck, and he grips me there, angling my head back, his mouth slanting down over mine like he’s been waiting for it. Like the whole time he’s been standing out in this parking lot on his phone, he’s been counting down the minutes until he could kiss me again.
I loop my arms around him, trying to drag him closer. I feel desperate, itchy, eager to have him. He changes the angle of our kiss and shushes me with a mumbled “easy” against my mouth right before he kisses me again, licking into my mouth with a hot groan. I settle there against him and let him kiss me the way he needs to, until it’s something slow and deep and wet, both of my palms resting flat against his chest, the pound of his heart a perfect match for mine.
Somewhere behind us, a car lays on its horn. I can hear muffled banging on the window, a cheer from somewhere in the station.
Aiden pulls back, his cheeks pink. He stares down at me with a tender smile, one that grows wider the longer he looks.
“Hi,” he whispers.
“Hey.” I smile back.
“I’m really glad you called. All those weeks ago.”
“Technically I’m not the one who called.”
He rolls his eyes and wraps both of his arms around me. “Either way,” he says.
I smile and drop my forehead in the place between his shoulder and neck. The spot I fit into perfectly.
“I’m glad you answered.” I grin. “Mr. Tire is going to be so happy.”
JACKSON CLARK:All right, Baltimore. She’s in the parking lot. We’re watching them through the window and they’re talking. They’re talking. They’re talking.
MAGGIE LIN:You don’t have to repeat yourself.
JACKSON CLARK:I’m just providing real-time updates—oh my god. They’re kissing. There is a kiss happening, people.
MAGGIE LIN:I knew it.
JACKSON CLARK:You did not know it. You thought he hated her. I’m the one who knew it.
MAGGIE LIN:Okay, you knew it.
[pause]
JACKSON CLARK:Wow, they’re really going at it, huh? His hands are—
MAGGIE LIN:That’s enough.
MAGGIE LIN:Good night, Baltimore.
JACKSON CLARK:Just—wow. That’s a public parking lot.
MAGGIE LIN:Goodnight, Baltimore.
MAGGIE LIN:We’ll see you next time onHeartstrings, Baltimore’s romance hotline.
How is it so crowded already?” I murmur, the line from Skullduggery stretching all the way down the block and around the corner. I stare at it in dismay from the front stoop of Lucie’s house.
“It’s always like this when she has cruffins,” Maya offers with her chin resting on top of my head, her arms looped over my shoulders. She prefers piggybacks in the mornings, reluctant to put on shoes that aren’t dinosaur house slippers. And I’m reluctant to argue with her about anything. A soft spot that Lucie calls a blind spot, with a fond but exasperated roll of her eyes when she meets us on the porch, Maya clinging to me like a koala.
