Page 90 of Last First Kiss
All my pictures sold thanks to Isabella, helping me get a step closer to realizing my dream of making my art more than just something I do when I have time to spare.
New York is nothing but a distant, half-faded blur that I can’t even believe I ever considered.
And now, the woman I love so deeply is throwing her tux jacket over my shoulders to keep me warm as we wait for our ride back to the hotel. Life could not be any better.
Clara wraps an arm around my waist, steadying both of us as we wait. The street is quiet, lights soft and golden.
She kisses the top of my head. “You happy?”
My heart feels too full to speak, so I nod.
“Yeah,” I finally whisper. “More than I knew I could be.”
As our ride pulls up, and she opens the door for me like I’m the most precious thing she’s ever touched, I realize that life truly could not be any better than this.
EPILOGUE
Clara
If someone had told me back in college that one day I’d be dating the girl who had stolen fries off my plate when we’d been just kids, I would’ve laughed—and maybe panicked a little at the thought of Alejandra ever knowing about my feelings for her. Still, here I am, getting ready to head out with Alejandra to celebrate our six months.
I didn’t know months were celebratory in relationships—probably because I’ve never had one—but regardless of whether they are or not, Alejandra has been insistent.
Even though it’s only been six months since we got together, it feels like much longer. Part of it may be because I’ve wanted to be with her since we were teenagers, and also because our day-to-day lives haven’t changed much since we started dating. We still have our nightly hangouts and our DIY spa days, rituals that somehow feel even more special now. Only, instead of going into separate bedrooms afterward, we crawl back into our bed, curl up, and hold each other close until we fall asleep.
The day we got back from Diana and Alex’s wedding, Alejandra officially moved all her things into my room, and we turned her old room into an office/guest room. Who would have thought that Lala’s relentless insistence on finding Alejandra a girlfriend would end up sending her straight into my arms? Not me, that’s for sure.
“Babe, are you almost ready?” Alejandra shouts from somewhere in the house. Maybe the bathroom, because of the slight echo.
“Yeah,” I shout back, securing the last button on a long-sleeved black button-up shirt Alejandra bought for me a few weeks ago—when she announced we were going on a date for our six-monthaversary.
After two hours, five outfit changes, and a full makeup session, Alejandra finally walks into our bedroom, and can’t seem to take a full breath.
She’s wearing a mossy green dress that clings to her curves, every line accentuating the parts of her I now know so well.
Thin straps rest on her shoulders, framing her collarbones. The slit along one thigh isn’t even dramatic, but it’s enough to make my imagination run wild, my heart pounding harder than it should after all this time.
I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close. Slowly, I lean in, pressing my lips to hers in a sultry, deep kiss that sets my whole chest on fire. I can’t believe I kept myself from this—this closeness, this connection. I don’t know how I ever let myself think it wouldn’t work out, because since being with her, everything finally feels right.
“You look amazing,” I breathe against her neck, taking in the smell of her skin before she puts on perfume.
“So do you,” Alejandra says before giving me a spin. It’s far from the first time she’s done this, butmy pulse still jumps like it is, every time, and I hope it stays that way, forever.
“Ready?” she asks, reaching for my other hand, and I nod, lacing my fingers in hers.
Alejandra and I drive for about an hour, finally pulling up to the new restaurant nestled along the Puget Sound. It’s one we’ve been wanting to check out for months, but getting a reservation has been nearly impossible.
I step out of the car first and rush to Alejandra’s side to pull the car door open for her.
Alejandra giggles. “What a gentlelady,” she teases, before pressing a sweet kiss to my cheek.
I slide my arm around her waist, pulling her close as I guide us toward the restaurant door. When we step inside, it’s dimly lit, with soft flickers of candles on every table, and the rich smell of oak and spiced wine fills the air. There’s a red-haired woman playing the piano at the end of the bar.
I finally understand why getting a reservation was a nightmare. It is magical in here.
Alejandra
After a few minutes of waiting, we’re ushered in and seated at a table near a big window overlooking the water, so close that I can almost reach out and touch it.
