I want to answer, but I don’t want to besmirch Tripp’s memory, even though I’m not his widow. I’m his ex-wife. I left him because he loved his mistress more than me. But I don’t want to compare his kisses. They’re over.
An invisible thread pulls me closer to Leo. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if I’ve had it.”
His eyes hold mine, never wavering. I don’t know what’s happening with us. But I want this moment, wholly. I want it to unfurl like a red carpet. I’m eager to find out where it leads.
I want to be like Leonardo from 1820—to make a mark on history. On my history. And I want Leo, circa 2019.
I move even closer, not caring about the people at the museum admiring the painting. They are a static haze to me. Leo’s as clear as the art. “I want that kiss.”
“Then you should have it.” His voice is gravelly, rough. It’s strewn with hidden meaning, and I can read the clues.
We both want whatever this strange new thing is that’s brewing between us.
We want it, even if we’re afraid of it.
An inexorable pull tugs us closer together, like a magnet seeking its opposite. “That painting. Maybe it’s kismet.”
“You think so?” Another step.
“Maybe it’s poetry.”
He shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “You and your poetry.”
“What about you? What do you want?”
He licks his lips. “The same.”
In front of the Klimt, in front of the crowd, Leo lifts his hand, curls it around the back of my head, and brings me close.
My breath stutters. Electricity shoots through my body. My feet barely touch the ground as he lowers his head and brushes a chaste kiss.
On my cheek.
That’s not fair.
That’s not what I want.
But even so, my body tingles all over. All from a kiss on my cheek.
And that kiss makes me want his lips.
I raise my face, cup his jaw, and make the chaste kiss not so chaste, after all.
He takes the baton and runs with it.
He kisses me tenderly, brushing his mouth over mine in a gentle exploration, like he’s been dying to get to know my lips, but like he can take his time with them too.
Like he can take all the time in the world.
His kiss is full of longing as his lips sweep over mine, visiting the corners, traveling across the bow of them. Visiting everywhere.
I’m buzzing, my entire body humming like the start of a song—a song that’ll build in seconds. As he takes his time,
the desire in me roars well past the speed limit. I break with desire.
It snaps me in two, and the hungry, ravenous half of me wins. My hand is on his face, so I bring him closer and crush my lips to his. I devour his mouth, taking him like he’s mine, like he belongs to me.
He groans roughly, and it sounds both painful and intoxicating. I’m intoxicated as he deepens the kiss, his lips searching mine, finding me. Finding a new us. The kiss is his again as he draws me tight and consumes me.
We kiss like we’re discovering a new land. Like we’re leaving our mark on this moment. And we are. Because this is the record I want from today.
I don’t need photographic proof to know it happened.
My mind is taking snapshots for me to look at later.
A new tour group shuffles into the room, and we break the kiss, looking at each other like wow.
But we also need to leave. We exit the museum through the gift shop, where Leo buys me a postcard of The Kiss then signs it.
Leo 2019. The Met. Klimt Exhibit.
In my mind, I add one more line.
First kiss.
Along with Ginny and Noah, we return to the starting place for the hunt, where the Heavenly Four, as we’ve dubbed ourselves, are in first place on the first day.
Then we’re back at the office, working on chocolate and business deals.
As I leave for my shop, ready to dive into my recipes for the afternoon, I spot Leo heading into a meeting.
He doesn’t see me.
He doesn’t even look like he’s here.
He’s somewhere else, and I know that look.
He’s lost in the past.
And I want both to know what he’s thinking of and to erase our whole history.
20LEO
Two and a half years ago
Only one person knew.
