Page 107 of When We Were Young

“I’m sure,” I whisper against his mouth.

Then I kiss him. It only takes two light kisses from me before one of his hands is in my hair, as he catches up and kisses me back.

At first, everything is soft, tentative. But when he brushes the tip of his tongue against my mouth, I instantly open. He deepens the kiss, and all hesitation falls away.

I’m not sure how much time passes with us lost in each other, but we eventually pull apart. I instantly miss him. Young Holden was a good kisser, but kissing this more mature Holden is now one of my new favorite things.

“I already hate myself for saying this, but I probably should get you home. You need to get some rest before your first live Sugar ‘n Spice event tomorrow.”

He places a tender kiss on the side of my mouth, then on my lips.

When I feel him pull back a few inches, I tighten my grip on him—one hand on his shoulder and the other wrapped under his arm, touching his back.

“Wait,” I say.

“You okay? What’s wrong?”

He takes his hand and brushes my messy hair away from my eyes. It’s so intimate, and it’s completely him—taking care of me.

“I’m fine. But I have something to say before we go. Okay?”

He nods, but I feel him tense under my hands. I don’t want him to have anxiety about where he stands with me. I move my hands so that they’re both touching the back of his neck, my fingertips in his hair.

“I’m frightened that I’ll screw this up. Or that it’ll confuse Simon. But I’m more terrified not to try because I really want this. This version of us. I want to give us our second chance, if you do.”

“I do. I absolutely do.”

He leans in and brushes my temple with a kiss.

I slide my hands toward his face.

“Good. Because I choose you. You’ve always been my choice, and you always will be.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Holden

“She’s really in her element, isn’t she?” Lester asks.

It’s Lizette’s first official booking at Sugar ‘n Spice. It’s a group of six teachers from Meadow Creek who need a night out after the first few weeks back to school.

She’s slaying it.

Lizette hired my mom part-time to help with the bakery and with classes, so she’s here, too. But I don’t think she even needs my mom for a class this size. She could handle it herself, no problem.

“Yeah. She really is. I know she wanted to make sure she had everything under control, so she had Mom come along, but⁠—”

“But she doesn’t even need her,” Lester says. “She’s an ace at looking around the room, reading who needs a little more help before they even ask.”

“Yeah, and she helps them in a way that makes it seem like they didn’t need it.”

As if she knows we’re talking about her, Lizette looks up and over at us. Her smile is radiant. Absolutely breathtaking.

She gives me a thumbs-up. It’s our predetermined sign that she’s okay and we can go.

“You wanna go have a beer out front, under the awning?” I ask.

“She’s good with us going?”