Page 52 of Last First Kiss
Mama C 7:00 a.m.
that would be great honey. thank you
I’ve called Cathia “Mama C” since before my mom passed. I was around her so much growing up that it almost felt like I was living in a two-mom household. Diana and Alejandra used to call my mom “Mama M,” too. It was like we were our own little family.
I tug on a pair of jeans and an old hoodie, moving slowly, my body protesting at being up so early.
When I enter the kitchen, Alejandra’s already dressed in her favorite black jeans and a thick mustard-yellow sweater, pouring coffee into a to-go mug. She smiles when she sees me.
“Where are you going?” she asks, slipping the lid onto the cup.
“Diana’s. She’s working on wedding stuff. Figured I’d help out.”
“No work today?”
I shake my head.
“Lucky.”
I lean in and kiss her, not a full, deep kiss, but enough to make her regret not calling off work. My fingers graze her waist, pulling her a little closer. “Have a good day at the studio,” I murmur against her mouth.
“You’re the worst,” she breathes, half-laughing, half-lost.
I break our kiss, and she pouts before looping her arms around my neck.
“You know I could still call in sick,” she teases.
I pull her in closer. “Tempting, right?”
She groans, burying her face in my neck for a second before sighing. “You’re evil.”
“Only a little.”
Her alarm chimes from the living room, and I know that means she needs to get out the door. She sighs, resting her forehead against mine.
“I hate that sound,” she mumbles.
I brush my thumb along her jaw. “Yeah, me too.”
“Text me later?”
“Always.”
She gives me one last quick kiss and reluctantly pulls away to grab her things. I find my keys and follow her out the door.
I make it to Mama C’s in about ten minutes, where she’s already waiting for me, seated on her front porch with that easy smile that’s come to feel like home.
“Hey, Clari,” she says, as she hops into the passenger seat and hands me a buttered piece of sourdough before she has even buckled her seatbelt.
“How are you, kid?”
“Good.” I smile, taking the bread. “Busy, but good.”
“No work today?”
“No, I called out sick. I need the extra day away from them.”
She brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “That’s not what I like to hear. What’s going on? I thought you were excited about your promotion.”
