Page 76 of The Unhinged Christmas of a Cat Lady
I raise my glass. “The well-adjusted youngest.”
Miranda rests her chin lightly on her hand, eyes dancing across the candlelit table. “You don’t seem like the youngest,” she says. “Too… sorted.”
“Is that a compliment or an accusation?”
She considers it. “Bit of both.”
I chuckle, swirling the last of my wine. “And you? Only child?”
She shakes her head. “Older sister. Bossy. Took the lead in everything. Including giving me a fringe when we were nine.”
“Oof. Did it involve kitchen scissors and a false sense of confidence?”
“Obviously. I looked like a startled mushroom for six months.”
I grin. “I’d have liked to see that.”
She gives me a look. “You’d have laughed.”
“Only a little.”
She leans forward slightly, eyes catching the glow of the table lamp. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
I shrug. “I’ve had practice. Plus, I’m sitting across from a woman who admitted to watching gay porn and still somehow has the upper hand.”
She nearly chokes on her drink, laughing. “That was supposed to be forgotten.”
“Never. Etched into my soul.”
A beat passes, her laughter softening into a smile that lingers just long enough to shift something between us.
Then I glance up, catch the waiter’s eye, and say, “Shall we get the bill?”
We step out into the crisp night, the cold slipping beneath collars and brushing against flushed cheeks. The car park is quiet, save for the distant hum of tyres on wet tarmac and the faint rustle of trees in the breeze.
I lead her towards the car, the gravel crunching beneath our feet. She’s saying something—something about the dessert wine and how it always tastes like raisins mixed with soap—but I’ve lost the thread. Because suddenly, she’s looking at me in that way again.
Like she’s not entirely sure what’s happening. But she’s not stepping back either.
When we reach the car, I move to open the passenger door for her. But I don’t. Not right away.
Instead, I reach up, just enough to slide my hand behind her head.
She stills and I wait for a rejection that never comes.
Her gaze flicks to mine, searching. Then she tips her chin up just a fraction and that’s all the permission I need.
I lean in and kiss her.
Soft, careful. The kind of kiss you can still walk back from, if you need to. Testing the waters.
But she kisses me back. Her hands slide up my chest, fingers curling into my jacket as I step in closer, pressing her gently against the side of the car. I deepen the kiss, still slow, still measured, but with heat behind it now.
Her mouth opens beneath mine with a soft, unguarded sound. My hand’s still in her hair. The other finds her waist. I want to pull her closer. I want—
I break the kiss before I lose all good sense.
We’re both breathing hard. She blinks up at me, lips parted, dazed in the loveliest way.
