Kiss Her Once for Me by Alison Cochrun

Author:Alison Cochrun [Cochrun, Alison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Lgbtq+, Gay, Romance, General, Romantic Comedy, Holiday
ISBN: 9781982191139
Google: iaOSEAAAQBAJ
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 60321485
Publisher: Atria Books
Published: 2022-11-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

Friends.

I’m stuck at a cabin with Jack Kim-Prescott for five more days, and she wants to be friends.

As soon as we get back home, I flee to the nearest bathroom to cry on a toilet seat about it.

It is, at least, a nice bathroom for crying. The kind with a gilded mirror and expensive soaps and vases full of decorative rocks. I sit on the closed toilet seat with my head in my hands, letting the tears leak down between my fingers as I try to catch my breath.

I’m not even sure why I’m crying. This doesn’t change anything.

Does it change anything?

Sure, Jack really liked me. She kept the things that reminded me of her in a drawer. Except now she thinks I’m engaged to her brother. With Andrew, I’m guaranteed two hundred thousand dollars. With Jack, there’s… no guarantee at all.

I try to call Meredith, but she doesn’t answer, so for a minute I stare at my phone screen, unsure of who I’m supposed to talk to right now. My terrible mother? My terrible therapist?

There’s a knock on the bathroom door, quickly followed by, “Sugar, let me in.”

I hesitate a moment before reaching over to unlock the bathroom door. Meemaw steps in, having changed into a floor-length red velvet dress that makes her look like a lounge singer doing a Christmas special. She’s carrying two mugs of something that stings my sinuses. “Are you ill? Or are you avoiding dinner because you know it’s my night to cook, which means frozen taquitos and Bagel Bites?”

I snort and dislodge a bit of snot. “Actually, Bagel Bites are gourmet by my standards.”

“Darlin’.” Meemaw stops by the sink when she sees my tears. “Whatever is the matter?”

I unspool a wad of toilet paper to dab under my eyes. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” She sits down on the edge of the bathtub and passes me a mug. “I won’t have any apologizing in this bathroom, and I especially won’t tolerate any apologies for having emotions.”

I snort again. I spent most of my childhood apologizing to my mother for that exact reason.

“I’m sorry that I’m in here crying when I should be out there decorating the Christmas tree with everyone else,” I clarify. “It’s on the schedule.”

Meemaw clanks her mug against mine. “Sweetheart, we can always schedule in time for a good cry. Have a sip of mulled wine. It’ll make you feel better.”

I stare suspiciously at the mug of dark red liquid.

She reaches over to pat my thigh. “Tell your meemaw your woes.”

I take a cautious sip of the wine. It tastes like hot nail polish remover and Christmas. “There’s nothing to tell. I’m just upset over something silly.”

Meemaw swirls her drink and makes a knowing click of her tongue. “Something silly like… the fact that you had sex with my granddaughter last Christmas?”

I choke mid-sip of mulled wine, then promptly do a cartoonish spit take. A fine mist of it spills out of my mouth and onto the front of my jeans like tear drops of blood.

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