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She let out a long, exasperated sigh and followed Debra and Jodie out of the room.

Jeremy and I stood alone in the vestibule. I closed the gap between us and crossed my arms to look up at him. “I would be so embarrassed if this was any other family,” I said.

“Notice my parents didn’t even blink?”

“Like it was just business as usual,” I said.

He leaned in conspiratorially. “And Grandma…”

“Appearing from nowhere like the patron saint of feminism. Amazing.”

“Very solid comedic timing,” he said. “She hasn’t lost her edge.”

He got a laugh out of me and we stood smiling at each other. That familiar camaraderie.

The way he looked at me made me feel warm. Like caramel was spreading through my chest. Something sweet and comforting.

Laughter and the voices of our families came from distant parts of the house. I could hear “Jingle Bells” faintly playing in the yard, the light show casting shadows through the windows on either side of the front door. Jeremy tucked his hands in his pockets and gazed at me, looking totally and utterly content just to be standing there. I felt exactly the same way.

I had the weirdest urge to stand on my toes and kiss him.

Maybe it wasn’t actually weird at all. Maybe it was just that same chemistry we had as teenagers. Maybe it got bigger, stronger. More potent with age.

Harder to resist.

His smile fell the tiniest bit. Then he closed the small space between us, leaned down, and kissed me.

I breathed out at the contact.

It was just a soft brush of his lips on mine. The faintest touch. And it ripped through my body, waking me up, reactivating me. Reminding me.

This. This is what attraction felt like.

When I didn’t pull away, he slipped his arms around my back and drew me to his chest. The kiss got deeper and I got lost in it.

We’d kissed like this a thousand times and I remembered them all. In the back of a car, in a Pancake Disco booth after prom, on a blanket in a park, by the lockers on the last day of school. Our first kiss, in the basement at a Christmas dinner just like this one when we were thirteen. All-consuming and perfect.

When you’re young and inexperienced, you think all kissing is like this. Then when you finally have something to compare it to, you realize what you had. That this kind of compatibility and chemistry is rare. That somehow the first boy you ever kissed is the best boy you’ll ever kiss—and you’ll never kiss him again.

And then I remembered why. Another kiss. One that wasn’t ours. And I was instantly snapped back into reality. I wiggled away from him.

He blinked at me, out of breath. “What happened?”

“Don’t do that again.”

He stared. “You… you didn’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

His eyes searched my face. “Anna… do you really not…”

“Not what?” I said.

“Do you really not… love me anymore?” He paused, like he was trying to find the words. “I get that you’re mad. I deserve that, I do. And I know it’s been a long time but… do you actually hate me?”

“The opposite of love isn’t hate, Jeremy. It’s indifference. I’m definitely not indifferent to you and I probably never will be.”

It was almost a physical ache, this withered tie between our souls. I felt like I was in mourning. But grief is the price of love, isn’t it?