Kiss Her Once for Me (109)

“I’m telling you all of this so you know.” Jack licks her lips, and I think miserably about how I’ll never lick those lips again. “I’m not perfect.”

I snort. “Jack, I was not operating under the assumption that you’re perfect.”

She moves closer to me. Her body sways, then replants itself. “It’s just… I’m really fucking scared of letting you love me back. I’m afraid I’ll get hurt again. And worse, I’m afraid I’ll get lost in a relationship again.”

“Back…” I repeat. I have eight hearts, thirty ribs, and no idea what’s happening.

“Duh.” Jack rolls her shoulders uncomfortably inside her khaki jacket. “Of course I love you, too.”

“Duh? Jack!” I relish in the sound of her name on my tongue, the sight of her crooked smile. “That’s a terrible declaration of love.”

“Should I compare you to a tree and insult the volume of your voice?”

“Fair point.” I take our joined hands and lift them to my mouth, kissing her cold knuckles in the snow. “And Jack—I don’t want you to lose yourself in this relationship. I don’t want you to siphon off any part of who you are.”

It happens quickly. One second, there’s a flurry of snow between us, then there’s nothing. Jack’s thumb on my jaw, Jack’s hand on my waist, Jack’s cold mouth on mine. She tastes like macarons and home. Like warm bread, like a home-cooked meal. Snowball fights and Christmas carols and making cookies. Kissing Jack makes me feel like home is the place we’ll build together, and I kiss her back frantically.

I open myself up entirely for Jack, with tongue and teeth, with fingers scraping the short hairs on her neck, my body arched. I want Jack, now and always, and there’s no point in hiding it. The way Jack kisses me back is everything I’ve ever wanted with the only person I’ve ever wanted it with.

This isn’t a last kiss or a goodbye kiss. This is a first kiss. Our first kiss as the best versions of ourselves. When we pull apart, our glasses are fogged up, and we’re both covered in snow. “I want to help you shine, too, Elle,” she says, gruffly and loudly. Like Jack.

“Is that a yes, then?” I pant. I’m out of breath but too in love to be embarrassed. “You’ll let me love you back?”

Jack’s hands are still on my waist. I believe she’ll never let go. “We have no idea how to be in a relationship together.”

“I don’t know how to be in a relationship with anyone,” I clarify. “We can figure it out together.”

I wrap my arms around her. I know there’s no guarantee this will last. We could fall apart in a year or five years. We could fall apart tomorrow. I could give Jack everything and lose her again anyway. I take Jack’s face in my hands and kiss her one more time, on the little white scar across her upper lip.

If it’s twelve hours, or twelve years, or the rest of our beautiful lives, I’m going to savor every damn second of it. Starting with this second outside in the snow, in the glow of Gillian’s headlights.

I pull Jack into my arms on the Burnside Bridge, swaying back and forth, slow dancing with her in a snow globe somehow big enough for all of us.





Acknowledgements


Thursday, April 28, 2022

For some reason, I decided to write a book about failure at a time in my life when I was paralyzed by a fear of failing.

I didn’t set out to write a book about failure. This was supposed to be a fluffy holiday rom com about a lesbian Bill Pullman, but fairly early in the drafting process, it became clear to me that fear was at the core of Ellie’s story. And it makes sense. I started writing this book in June 2020, right after I’d sold my debut novel, and I was coming to terms with the fact that people were actually going to read something I wrote. That I was going to be PERCEIVED. It was a dream come true, yes, but for a closeted perfectionist, I couldn’t imagine anything more terrifying than showing strangers all of me. In many ways, this book is my way of processing that fear, of trying to convince myself that some things are too spectacular for fear.

So, thank you first and foremost to my therapist, Karen, always, for helping me redefine what it means to fail and what it means to succeed and what it means to be proud of yourself just for showing up. You know this one was entirely a joint effort.

Thank you to my brilliant and tireless editor, Kaitlin Olson, for always taking a leap with me. Thank you for your insights and your patience in guiding me through this process, and thank you for believing I could do it, even when I wasn’t so sure.

Thank you to my agent, Bibi Lewis, who supported this book back when it was nothing more than a poorly fleshed-out, gay While You Were Sleeping fanfic, and who helped me find the story I truly wanted to tell. Thank you for talking me out of so many bad ideas (including the coma). I’m so fortunate to have an agent who is compassionate about mental health and who treats clients with such care. I wouldn’t want to go through this with anyone but you.

Thank you to all the passionate people behind the scenes at Atria and Simon & Schuster who helped bring this book into the world. Thank you to the greatest publicist of all time, Megan Rudloff, who works so hard for her authors—I can’t believe how lucky I am to work with you. Thank you Raaga Rajagopala and Katelyn Phillips, for your marketing acumen, and Polly Watson, for always making copyedits so darn fun. Thank you Sarah Horgan, for the gorgeous cover, and Lexy Alemao, for your equally gorgeous interior designs. Thank you to editorial assistants Jade Hui and Elizabeth Hitti; my production editor, Liz Byer; my managing editor, Paige Lytle; and my managing editorial assistant, Iris Chen. Thank you to Nicole Bond, for getting this book and The Charm Offensive into foreign markets. Thank you to all the people in sales and production I neglected to mention but whose tireless work is the backbone of this industry. It takes so many people to make this dream a reality, and you’re all appreciated beyond measure.