My face flushes as I read the last lines, like I’ve been busted.

And I have.

The kiss won’t lead to late-night bookstore visits and dinners with my mom, because late-night bookstore visits and dinners with my mom were what led to the kiss.

So were museum visits.

And nights out at The Pub.

And text messages.

And time. Spending time with Leo.

That’s the cause, and the kiss was the effect.

I want more of the effect. So much more.

As I reflect back on the last month, I can see with my twenty-twenty vision that we’ve been spinning toward that kiss since I bumped into a chocolate fountain and found myself on top of him. I recall every second of the kiss, reliving the tingles that swept over me, the hum under my skin, the joy that seemed to radiate in my bones. The joy of possibility. Of a new kind of connection.

But I’m not entirely sure how to sum all that up to fit into one category of kissing. Still, I try my best when I write back to her.

Lulu: Would you think I was a complete cheeseball if I told you it was magical?

Mom: I’d think you were the daughter I raised. There are no better kisses than the kind that are magical. The kind that make your toes tingle.

Lulu: That’s exactly the kind we had. But I feel like I’d be stupid to pursue anything, given that I’m contracted with his company. I shouldn’t mess around with this chance in my career. Don’t you think?

Mom: I think your career is a precious thing and ought to be handled with care.

Lulu: So it’s settled. I choose chocolate over kisses?

Mom: Is that the choice?

Lulu: I thought that’s what you were saying.

Mom: I’m not going to tell you what to do. The heart wants what the heart wants.

Lulu: And you always taught me both to listen to mine and not be fooled by it.

Mom: I did, because there is no organ more susceptible to trickery, subterfuge, or sabotage than the heart. Embrace it, treat it as something precious, and be very wary of it.

I tuck the phone away in my purse. I am so very wary of hearts.

24LULU

Today’s starting point?

Washington Square Park.

As I walk under the arch, I pass three team members from Frodo’s as they engage in tree poses and practice mantras.

“I visualize myself on a beach, soaking in the warm rays.”

“I see myself walking along the streets of Paris.”

“I’m on a golf course, nailing a hole in one.”

Damn, the prospect of winning a vacation is some kind of powerful lure.

Granted, I have nothing against tropical beaches or fabulous foreign cities, but I’ve never been a give-me-vacation-or-give-me-death kind of girl.

There are other things I want though.

Maybe I ought to practice visualizing what I want.

I’m kissing Leo again. I’m tackling him, rolling around with him, and taking him home. He’s sliding inside me, kissing my neck, and making me⁠—

SCREECH.

What the hell?

When did I become the dirtiest bird when it came to that man?

When you mauled him in front of a Klimt, you dodo.

Oh, well, that would do it.

I had mega sex dreams about Leo last night. They were utterly delicious, and I regret nothing.

Not a damn thing.

A man clears his throat, and I glance in the direction of the scoffer. The Finger-Licking-Good Guy. He nods at the collection of Frodo employees, rolling his eyes. “You know where I see myself?”

“Where’s that?”

The man sighs majestically and spreads his arms. “In my La-Z-Boy, watching a game.”

I give him a thumbs-up. “Squad goals,” I say, using Leo’s words from the chocolate show.

His brow knits. “Hey, listen. You’re the lady who fell in the fountain, aren’t you?”

“Just call me Chocolate-Covered Lulu.”

“Listen, sorry about that. I was the one running the booth that day, and I couldn’t believe that happened.”

I flash back to the fountain incident. This affable fellow hardly seems like the guy who accused Leo of rolling around in his fountain, but indeed he is. “You know what they say. Chocolate fountain incidents are a little unbelievable. Did you ever get the tipper you were looking for?”

“Alas, I didn’t catch the scofflaw.”