The Wish(74)

I was still under a kind of spell when Bryce showed me how to make the s’mores. Loading marshmallows onto wooden stakes, he showed me how high above the flames to hold them so they wouldn’t catch on fire. Assembling the graham crackers and Hershey bars, we each put together our s’mores, savoring the sweet and gooey delight. I watched as a strand of marshmallow trailed from his lips on his first bite, making him lean forward and fumble with the s’more. He sat up quickly, bobbling the sticky concoction, somehow getting the strand into his mouth. He laughed, reminding me that as good as he was at practically everything, he never seemed to take himself too seriously.

A few minutes later he stood from his chair and walked back to his truck. Daisy trailed behind as Bryce pulled something large and bulky from the bed; I couldn’t tell what it was. He carried it past our spot and finally stopped at the hard-packed sand near the water’s edge. Only when he launched the kite did I recognize what he was holding, and I watched it rise higher, until it vanished in the darkness.

He waved at me with childlike glee, and I rose from my spot to join him.

“A kite?”

“Robert and my dad helped me build it,” he explained.

“But I can’t see it.”

“Can you hold this for a second?”

Though I hadn’t flown a kite since I was a child, this one seemed glued to the sky. From his back pocket, Bryce pulled out what appeared to be a remote control, similar to a television’s. He pressed a button and the kite suddenly materialized against the dark sky, lit by what I guessed were red Christmas lights. The lights ran along the wood framing, etching a large triangle and series of boxes in the sky.

“Surprise,” he said.

I took in his excited face, then turned back to the kite again. It bobbed a little and I moved my arm, watching the kite respond. I let out some more string, watching as the kite rose higher, almost hypnotized by the sight. Bryce was staring up at it, too.

“Christmas lights?” I said in wonder.

“Yes, along with batteries and a receiver. I can make the lights blink if you’d like.”

“Let’s leave it the way it is,” I said.

Bryce and I stood close enough that I sensed his warmth despite the wind. When I concentrated, I could feel the seashell pendant pressing against my skin; I thought about dinner and the fire and the s’mores and the telescope. Staring up at the kite, I thought about who I’d been when I’d first arrived in Ocracoke and marveled at the new person I’d become.

I sensed Bryce turn toward me and I mirrored him, watching as he took a hesitant step closer. He reached out, placing a hand on my hip, and all at once, I knew what was coming. I felt as he tugged me ever so slightly, his head beginning to tilt. He leaned toward me, his lips drawing ever closer, until they finally touched my own.

It was a gentle kiss, soft and sweet, and part of me wanted to stop him. I wanted to remind him that I was pregnant and a visitor who would soon be leaving; I should have told him there was no future for us as a couple.

But I didn’t say anything. Instead, feeling his arms slide around me and his body press against mine, I suddenly knew I wanted this. His mouth slowly opened and when our tongues came together, I lost myself in a world where spending time with him was the only thing that mattered. Where holding him and kissing him were all I ever wanted.

It wasn’t my first kiss, or even my first French kiss, but it was the first kiss that felt perfect and right in every way, and when we finally separated, I heard him sigh.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he whispered. “I love you, Maggie.”

Instead of answering, I leaned back into him, allowing him to hold me, feeling as his fingertips gently traced my spine. I imagined his heart beating in unison with my own, even as his breath seemed steadier than mine.

My body was shaky, and yet I’d never felt more comfortable, more complete.

“Oh, Bryce,” I murmured, the words coming naturally. “I love you, too.”





Holiday Spirit and Christmas Eve





Manhattan

December 2019



In the glow of the gallery’s Christmas tree lights, the memory of that kiss remained vivid in Maggie’s mind. Her throat was dry, and she wondered how long she’d been speaking. As usual, Mark had stayed quiet as she’d recounted the events of that period of her life. He was leaning forward, forearms on his thighs, his hands clasped together.

“Wow,” he finally said. “The perfect kiss?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I know how it sounds. But…that’s what it was. To this day, it’s the kiss that all others have been compared to.”

He smiled. “I’m happy you had the chance to experience that, but I admit it leaves me feeling a little intimidated.”

“Why?”

“Because when Abigail hears about it, she may ask herself whether she’s missing out—she might go off in search of her own perfect kiss.”

Laughing, Maggie tried to recall how long it had been since she’d sat with a friend for hours and simply…talked. Without self-consciousness or worries, where she felt like she could really be herself? Too long…

“I’m sure Abigail melts whenever you kiss her,” she teased.

Mark blushed to his hairline. Then, suddenly serious, he said, “You meant it. When you said you loved him.”