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“Fine.” I grab my shoes and look at Liam. He kind of smiles. Lisa turns and leaves the room. I go to follow her.

Liam grabs my wrist. “You ok?”

I grin at him. “Totally. It was bella. Happy New Year.” He jumps up and pulls me into a Liam hug, squeezing too hard. But I don’t mind tonight. I wrap my arms around him a little tighter. He’s the only one in the world who completely understands my family’s crazy. The hug is different, but better. My mom yells from upstairs and I tear myself away.

I skip out of the room, and he calls after me, “Happy New Year, Jillybear.”

1

LIAM

Present

The smell of bayberry candles drag my eyes shut for a second. Like a holiday trance, I imagine a Rockwell gathering all around me. But then I flick my beard, adjust my tie, and survey the room. My house is filled with drunk-ass friends, a persnickety mother, and cats who are darting in and out of everyone’s legs, terrified of being stepped on but also afraid of missing out on some kind of action. The traditional Fletcher family holiday party is in full swing. It’s Mom and I throwing the party now, the last of the real Fletchers. I no longer consider my sister a Fletcher since she crossed the river for her suburban Jersey married life.

I see my friends, Deb and Heather, peeking into the house. We clerked together just after law school, and after the last couple of years, it’s nice to see they’re my friends and not my ex-wife’s. I greet them with hugs.

Deb has a shit-eating grin. “I brought you a present.” She says as she removes her scarf.

“Not necessary.” She always remembers an occasion or a host gift.

“This couldn’t be helped.” I move to hug her wife, Heather.

Heather’s voice is boisterous as she says, “You’re going to freak.” There’s someone else just beyond the power couple. I look over Heather’s shoulder and my whole body pings like it’s been hit with high voltage. In the door frame is Jillien Thompson. Snow gently falls behind her as her face beams a mischievous smile I know all too well.

Jillien was a family friend and buddy of my sister from our privileged childhood and the imaginary love of my youth. Our fathers worked together and there were many family vacations and holiday gatherings. I swiftly move toward her.

“Holy shit! Jillien fucking Thompson. Why are you in Philly?” I turn to Deb and Heather, who laugh as Jillien takes a bow.

“Told ya you’d freak.” Heather slaps me on the back, and the women enter my living room, leaving the two of us alone. I reach behind Jillien to close the door and all sense of decorum is quickly draining from my body. She’s as beautiful as a memory. Her cherry lips smile broadly at me. The snow is flecking her blondish hair as it gently brushes her shoulders. She stands taller than I remember. I’m six foot three inches and often have to stoop a bit to chat with women. But she’s meeting my gaze. My heart is out of my chest before I can stop it. Her soft and feminine scent is pushing my adrenaline into overdrive. I haven’t seen her up close in about twenty years, except for Facebook. Our eyes connect, and she trips over her first words. Not something she usually did. If memory serves, she tends to speak before she thinks. I tend to think way too much before I do anything.

“Fletch. Hope it’s ok if I crash the party.” She gives me a sassy little smile, and it’s better than Christmas lights. She bites the bottom of her lip, and it’s precisely the flash in my mind of her at sixteen. With her feeble attempt at wit, she moves to hug me. Instinct takes over.

“Of course it’s ok, but I need to do something first. Please indulge me. Blame the mistletoe.” I lean forward.

“Wait,” she whispers with a wide-eyed, adorable expression. I lick my lips. “Really?” She opens her mouth wide in surprise.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. How could you not know I’ve been dying to kiss you?” I joke since we haven’t seen each other in decades. She smiles, and it lights up the fucking house.

“I must have missed the email notification. Sorry to keep you waiting.” Her face lights up and she nods as if she’s intrigued. The idea of fulfilling an age-old desire is too overwhelming. I swiftly wrap my arm around her waist and pull her flat against me. She gasps and places her hands on my shoulders. I cannot stop myself. She may run away screaming, but I have to touch her. I drift the back of my hand along her downy soft cheek. It flushes a trail of where I’ve been. I get closer to her and she takes small breaths of anticipation. It’s both sexy and adorable at the same. Jillien Fucking Thompson, finally in my arms. I won’t waste another opportunity. I take her lush and lovely lips quickly. I kiss her for the second time in my life.

She yields instantly. I want her to know it’s more than a hello, welcome to my house kiss. I hover, teasing her, and unbelievably, she moves into me, and I feel her kiss me back. We’re in this together. Definitely not a friendly kiss, but somewhere in between. Our lips are slightly parted and wet. I don’t lick into her mouth like I’m desperate to do. I want to taste her, but I back off and keep it somewhat chaste. After we linger on each other’s lips for a minute, I pull back into a broad smile and whisper, “I’ve wanted to do that for twenty-five years.” Then I release her reluctantly. Her heavenly scent worms its way into my bloodstream and warms every part of me.

She hesitates for a split second. To anyone else it wouldn’t seem like a pause, but I know her. I know that was hesitation, and it wasn’t something common for her when we were younger.

She grins and goes up on her toes. Her breath tickles as her soft tongue lightly flicks my ear, instantly making my dick semihard. She nips and her voice floats, whispering, “Well, in that case, I should probably make it worth the wait.” She steps back and grins, then grabs my tie and drags me to her again. This is the kiss I’ve waited for, not the innocent greeting seconds earlier. Her hands go around my neck, and I sink into her. Our tongues meet. She tastes like new-fallen snow and the goddamn first flowers of spring. Of ripe juicy raspberries and sunshine. Of crisp apples and fucking fallen leaves. She tastes like all the seasons and forever. We reach farther into each other. My hands snake around her waist to tug her closer. Then my fingers move up her back and tangle into her luxurious, thick summer-blonde hair, bringing her head even closer to me. A small and incredibly sexy sigh slips from her perfect lips. No one is around us, yet my house is full of guests, and my…

“Liam. Liam! Who was at the door?”

Jillien jerks her head back at the piercing voice. I try reattaching her. “Is that your mom?” she whispers like we’re about to get caught making out in the rec room.

“Yes,” I whisper while moving to her neck. She releases another sexy gasp, and I want to disappear from my own party.

“Answer me!” screams Bev from the other room.

“Calm down, Ma. It’s Jillien Thompson!” I call, lifting my head so she can hear me.

Jill mutters while she kisses me, “It’s Meier.”