One Little Kiss Page 2

  “I’ll carry it. No problem.” I take the hard case from her and sling it over my shoulder as we leave the room and take the elevator down the fifteen floors to the lobby. The hotel is pretty quiet considering the number of people staying there. They must be exhausted after spending the day at the airport and are holed up in their rooms. The clerk nods as we leave and resumes her typing while the 24/7 news shows tell us there is a blizzard happening on every TV in the space. Thanks for the information, Captain Obvious.

  Stepping out onto the cold sidewalk is like entering into another dimension and my fingers ache to hold a brush, a pencil. My sketchpad is in the room with my backpack but I know I’ll try to recreate this scene later.

  Everything is covered in white. The sky is a silvery, metallic gray only interrupted by the glistening flakes tumbling down in a constant fall of fat, fluffy snow. The blanket of two or three feet is a buffer against any noise and with the normal traffic off the busy street the hush is similar to the one found in a cathedral. The scenery is so clean, pristine, perfect. I hate to ruin it with footprints.

  Leighton reads my mind. “I don’t want to mess it up.”

  “I know.” I look down a few blocks where I can see the warm glow of the pub’s lights on the snow. “But food is down there.”

  She looks to where I’m nodding. “You can’t just snap your fingers and put us over there?”

  “I have magical powers but that isn’t one of them.”

  Leighton slides a glance over to me and I see the heat. She’s gone straight for the sexy in that innuendo. My dirty girl. It was the biggest surprise when we’d ended up in bed that night and I loved that about her. It didn't fit with the utter calm and poise she portrays to the world and I make believe that it is reserved only for me.

  I shake my head. That kind of thinking has to end right here and right now or this night is going to end with me sleeping in the bathtub after a very cold shower.

  “Let’s go,” I say and jerk my chin towards the lights.

  She follows beside me and I extend my hand to steady her if she needs it. It isn’t super slippery but you never know what is underneath the white stuff.

  “So, are you still going to make the festival with this delay?” I ask as we switch from the uneven sidewalk to the obstruction-free middle of the road.

  “Yeah. I’m not performing for a couple of days. I might not be as rested but I’ll be there in time to perform.” She glances up at the sky and then back at me. “Unless this becomes snowmageddon and we are stuck here until global warming cranks it up a notch or two.”

  “It’s a big deal to be chosen for this festival?”

  She dips her head but I see the flush embarrassment adds to the red already on her cheeks from the cold. “Yeah. It was an honor.”

  “And the job with the philharmonic after graduation? Second chair? Traveling all over the world?” Her head whips up in surprise and I shrug. “Your twin is the weakest link. He cannot keep a secret—especially when he’s bragging about you.”

  “See? When you put it that way, I can’t even be mad at him.”

  I laugh at her pout, grabbing her hand when I spy a suspicious looking patch of snow covered ice. Her fingers slide into mine as if they are a piece in a puzzle. I’m not a hand holder, that’s girlfriend/boyfriend stuff and those have been few and far between in my dating life. I prefer to keep it casual, and lucky for me lots of college girls are okay with it.

  But holding Leighton’s hand under this big sky; just the two of us and the snow?

  I could do this forever.

  I take a deep breath to slow down my heart. It’s racing because that’s what she does to me and I wonder what I was smoking to think I could keep my hands off her for a whole night. When I touch her, all my reasons get fuzzy on the edges and I don't know if I can explain them to anyone if they ask. And then she brings it all back into focus.

  “Are you ready for graduation?”

  I send up a silent apology to Landon because apparently the fucker can keep a secret. He hasn’t told her about what’s going on with me.

  “I’m not graduating.” I swallow hard and let the whole truth spill out into the silent air. “I’m not coming back to school after spring break.”

  That stops her in her tracks and when she pulls up short, she slides a little bit on the snow. I adjust my grip on her to hold both of her arms and pull her in closer. Not quite full-body touching but enough to the point where I can feel the warm exhale of her breath on my face and the chill when it cools down.

  “What? Why? You’re at the top of the class.”

  She’s right. I’m a good student. A double major in business and fine arts—a compromise with my dad to appease his need for an heir to the company and my passion. And the fact that I’m a few credits shy of a degree and not going to finish is probably going to give my dad a heart attack. I remember the arguments the last few months, the disappointment and fear in his eyes. He’s a good father and he loves me but if I stay even just a few more weeks, I’ll lose it.

  Leighton is still waiting for an explanation and as I look down into her troubled gaze, all the reasons why I can’t have her come back into sharp focus. And the irony of that thought and what I have to tell her hits me in the gut like a cheap shot in a barroom brawl.

  “Leighton,” I open my mouth and close it again, unable to process the words. I’ve faced this already, accepted it. But somehow when I tell her, it’s gonna be real. “I’m going blind.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Leighton

  My brain is frozen from the cold because I know I didn’t hear him correctly.

  “What?” I shake my head, as I’m giving him pointers on what his answer needs to be. “No.”

  “I’m sorry.” He moves his hands from my arms to my face, stopping my movement. I’m still shaking my head in the negative, unable to stop. “Red. I thought you knew. Landon can’t keep anything to himself. He tells you everything.”

  “He didn’t,” I halt and inhale deeply, steadying myself. “What exactly was Landon supposed to tell me?”

  He stares at me, the muscle in his jaw pulsing with his irritation.

  “I was diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa just after Christmas. I got the final results on New Year’s Eve.”

  Oh holy hell. The same day I’d shown up at his party, wallowing in my own heartbreak and toting a case of champagne. I’d been surprised when Jonas had reciprocated my interest, readily accepting my suggestion that we go to bed together. He’d been different that night. We’d both been unable to stay away from each other, to keep from touching each other.

  I'd needed a touchstone. I’d needed Jonas to be my rock and apparently I’d been his as well.

  “I don't understand. Can’t they do something? Surgery? People get 20/20 all the time now. They do it in an hour.”

  I was babbling and he let me, his thumbs tracing a soft pattern as he soothed me. He was going blind and he was doing everything to make me feel better about it.

  “Red. They can’t do anything. It’s hereditary. You’ve met my grandfather.”

  I nod. Grandpa Sutton is blind and has been since his forties. He is debonair in that old-fashioned movie star kind of way, funny as hell, and had ably run the company for many years even after he’d lost his vision. I never thought of him with pity or worry because he is larger-than-life... but this is Jonas. My Jonas. And I wanted to scream at the bad hand he’d been dealt.

  Jonas is a painter. A wonderfully gifted artist that brings everything he sees to life in bright swaths of color and bold brushstrokes. His art is an extension of him. Vibrant. In-your-face. Clever. Flirtatious. Enticing.

  The thought of him losing that gift causes my stomach to clench painfully. My chest aches with the tears I hold back, knowing he doesn’t want to see them.

  “How long?” He knows what I’m asking.

  “It could be many years until I lose my sight entirely. Right now it gets fuzzy sometimes. Goes in an
d out. My peripheral vision is jacked up on occasion and I get headaches more frequently.”

  I can’t stop the tear that runs down my cheek. It’s scalding hot on my skin and then freezes. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the rest of them back inside me.

  Jonas groans and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me close to him. I loop my own around his waist and hold him tight, as if I can keep this burden away from him just by keeping him close.

  “I’m not afraid, Red,” he whispers into my hair. “I’ve watched my Grandpa and I know this isn’t the end for me. My life will not be over. Just...different.” He brushes a kiss against my hair and sighs deeply, his voice pitching even lower. “I’ll have a spot at the company, the support of my family. I’ll be fine. I’ll still be me. It’s more than other people have.”

  I hear him. I know he’s right but the unfairness of it all eats at me. Where is my shock? My numbness before the pain sets in? I am immediately in agony for him and struggling to keep my shit together. He’s being movie-of-the-week stoic and brave and I’m on the verge of blubbering.

  “I’m sorry you found out this way. I was sure Landon...” He breaks off his thought, rubbing his cheek against my hair and holding me tighter. “I’m just sorry.”

  He’s the one going blind and he’s apologizing for how I found out?

  I pull back to look him in the eyes, to see if I can gauge what level of bullshit he is shoveling at me. His coffee bean-colored eyes are clear, sincere, as they stare back into mine. I wonder how long it would be before this simple act of looking at each other would be impossible. The day when I look at him and he won’t see me? It cuts me. Down to the quick.

  I feel like I’m losing something I didn't even know I had.

  “Don’t apologize to me Jonas Sutton.” I stop when I hear the anger in my tone. I considered reining it in but I just can't pretend. It isn’t in me anymore. After the dumping by the cheaterface, I can’t drown my own emotions anymore. Not when they are this important. I let my voice carry into the quiet, loud with my emotion. “This sucks and you’re being gallant and brave and so goddamn calm about this whole thing!”

  And then they began in earnest. Hot tears. I couldn’t have stopped them if I tried.

  Jonas stares at me, his own expression twisting into one of concern and pain. I suck in a deep breath, trying to calm down, knowing I am making him feel worse.

  “Jonas.” It’s the only word I can form coherently at that moment but every ounce of what I am feeling is levied on those two little syllables. He reacts, hands moving again to cup my face as he leans in and takes my mouth in a kiss more compassionate than carnal.

  It is warm, wet, and soft. Our tongues touch tentatively, cautiously. This isn’t about sex; it’s something deeper. It’s us—Jonas and Leighton. We began this dance with one little kiss at the first freshman mixer in a dark corner of the deck of the student union. I was “Red” that night, long before he knew my last name. Before he knew I was the sister of his roommate. Before he knew about the leukemia. I wasn’t ready for what bloomed between us then and neither was he. Now? I don’t know but it doesn’t scare me anymore. Well, it does. But only in the good way.

  I’m not sure if I can expand to accommodate what Jonas would bring to my life with his energy, his vivacity, his joy. I’ve lived a half-life up until this point, tip-toeing around like the cancer would come back if I lived too large. But I am moving on, opening up and embracing my gift of being cancer free. That’s what this trip is about and the job with the philharmonic.

  Me. Living large. Finally.

  One of us moans, low and deep and the kiss flashes hotter for a moment. Teeth clash as he dives in deeper and I grab his jacket and pull him closer. But just that fast it is over. Jonas slides his mouth over my cheek until he can whisper in my ear.

  “I’m not brave. I’m not gallant. I’m not calm. I just can’t change it.”

  We stand there for a few moments, the snow covering us with its cocoon of white. With the street deserted it’s like we are the only two people in the world. There’s nobody around to hear me but I whisper anyway.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to travel and see the places I want to paint while I still can.” He shudders out a breath and a laugh as he pulls away, wiping at his face. Snow or tears, I can’t tell. “My dad is freaking out but my Grandpa intervened. I just can’t sit in class and act like I don't have this countdown clock over my head. The doctors say it’s usually years before I lose all my vision but each second feels like one that is wasted.”

  “I get that,” I say, brushing the wetness off my own cheeks, hoping I don't look like I’ve been bawling in the street. When I look at him I smile as much as I can. He is doing exactly what I would do, what I did through all those hospital visits and treatments. It’s always easier to be brave for other people. I wasn’t going to bring him down but one thing needed to be said. Just so he would know. “I’ll miss you.”

  He smiles back, tossing me the one where he only quirks up the right side of his mouth. It’s sexy as hell and he knows it. It’s his “got the world by the balls” grin and it’s totally Jonas.

  “Of course you will, Red. I’ll miss you too.”

  He reaches out for my hand and leads me over the last of the distance to the pub. The noise from inside spills out onto the street even through the closed door. The rumble is loud and as Jonas tugs the handle next to a sign that reads “Flanagan’s Pub”, it reaches epic proportions, a wave of laughter and clinking glasses.

  We get inside and it’s packed to the gills, probably in violation of the fire code.

  “Oh shit. That smells so good,” Jonas says.

  And he is so friggin’ right. It is heaven. Really. This is what the hereafter should smell like. “I hope they have room for us because if I don't eat soon, I might become a cannibal.”

  “I’m going to pass on the obvious joke there.”

  I realize what I said and what he meant and while it was hilarious it brings back an altogether different kind of memory. In fact, my belly tightens as I remember being on my knees, his cock in my mouth. I’d loved it. The power to get him off. His pure enjoyment in the act. The sounds he made. The sting of his fingers clenched in my hair. The way he wanted to keep eye contact the whole time. Now, that was heaven.

  I am saved from having to figure out something to say by a large, red-haired man approaching us with a big smile on his face.

  “I’m Ryan Flanagan the owner. We’ve got two seats if you don’t mind sharing a table.”

  Jonas flicks a glance in my direction and I nod in agreement. “Works for us.”

  “Follow me.”

  Jonas continues to hold my hand as we make our way in between the crowded tables. Everyone smiles at us as we pass, brothers and sisters in arms as we endure the plight of the stranded. And the beer flowing freely doesn't hurt either.

  Ryan points to two seats on one side of a table in the middle of the pub, across from two guys who look to be in their early thirties. Both handsome, smiling and holding almost empty pint glasses. Quick introductions all around as we take off our coats and we learn that they are Peter and Gabe Scott, newlyweds, and on their way to the warmth of Key West for their honeymoon.

  Ryan brings us up to speed. “Taps are open but the kitchen is limited. We’ve got stew or chili with homemade bread. When I saw how many people we’d have to feed I went for warm and filling instead of a full menu.”

  “A beer and stew for me,” I say and Jonas signals for two.

  “Coming up,” Ryan says and then pauses, looking at the hard case Jonas is draping over the back of his chair. “You play?”

  “She does,” Jonas points at me. “Like an angel.”

  “You know anything Irish?” Ryan asks.

  I open my mouth to respond but “Quick Draw Sutton” beats me to it yet again. “She’s going to the Celtic Music Festival in Dublin to perform by invitation.”

  “If you want
to play a couple of songs, just hop up there.” He nods towards a smallish stage to the right and then heads back to the kitchen.

  “You’re a musician?” Gabe asks, leaning forward in interest. His hand is clasped with his husbands on top of the table and I realize that I miss the feel of Jonas’ fingers intertwined with mine. We’re sitting close and I can feel his warmth in the places where our bodies touch from shoulder, to hip, to thigh and knee. I lean into him and he nudges back.

  “Yes. I am.” I start to tell him that I’m just a student but then I remember the contract I signed two weeks ago with the symphony. “I’m actually the second seat violin with the Alkan Philharmonic...or I will be after I graduate in May.”

  “That’s amazing,” Gabe says, his face lighting up like the music fan I suspect he is. “I saw them twice last year. I’d love to get season tickets one day.”

  “The next time you make it to a performance, come see me backstage,” I offer with a smile. Excitement about the job zings through me and I fight the urge to open my email and look at the letter offering me the position again. I still expect them to take it back and will probably feel that way until my ass is actually in the seat at the first rehearsal.

  Conversation stops when Ryan brings our food and drinks. For a few moments, we are silent as we tuck into our meal, our tablemates looking at us with barely disguised laughter.

  “We were hungry,” Jonas says in apology for our terrible manners and takes a sip from his pint. “Lunch was a long ass time ago.”

  “You’ll be traveling a lot with the Alkan group,” Peter says, bringing the conversation back to my new job.

  I nod and can’t help the grin that takes over my face. “I know. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say it doesn’t scare me a little. But this trip is my dry run. I’ve reserved a car and plan to just drive around a few days. Let the road and the music tell me where to go.”

  I’ve never done anything like this before and it is exciting and terrifying. Freeing.

  “You aren’t well-traveled?” Peter inquires.