Page 47 of Full Contact

“What did he say?”

“He asked whether I wanted him to help tell other people.”

Mark rested his forearms on the table.

“That was a good response.”

“It was. I’d prepared for much worse.”

“Did you want help?”

“Eventually. That day I just wanted him to know.” I glanced down at my cup. “We sat there awhile. Then we went in for whatever Dad had sent us to buy and came home with the wrong size.”

“Did you tell your dad why?”

“No. Russ took the blame. He’d been driving, so he said he was in charge of the expedition.”

I smiled at the memory.

“He still brings it up when he wants something. Not the coming-out part. The wasted trip.”

Mark smiled at me. I smiled back.

We carried the dishes to the sink together. Mark rinsed while I put the cheese and the last of the eggs away. When I came back to the sink, I stood beside him, our shoulders touching.

He set the last plate in the rack and dried his hands on a dish towel.

“Thank you for last night,” I said.

“I’m glad I was here for it.” He hung the towel back up. “And I’m glad you’re home.”

I pressed a hand against his side. He was warm through his hoodie, body solid under my palm. He stopped breathing for a moment.

Mark turned toward me in the space between the island and the cabinets. He looked at my mouth and then touched my waist, fingers spreading, his thumb finding the edge of my hip.

I closed the distance.

Our first kiss was soft, a press of his mouth against mine, his nose brushing against my cheek. When I started to ease back, his hand tightened at my waist, and I stopped moving.

The second kiss was slower. I brought my hand up and cupped his jaw, with stubble rough against my palm. He tilted his head, and his lips parted.

I slid my other arm around him and pulled him in until his chest was flush against mine. He curled his fingers into the front of my shirt and held on.

I had meant to kiss him once. Mark’s free hand moved up my back and settled at the nape of my neck, fingertips pushing into my hair, and we kissed again.

When we finally broke apart, neither of us stepped back. I flattened a hand against his chest. His heart was working hard.

“I have the birthday episode swatches at my office,” Mark said.

“Hmm. I think there’s something more urgent.”

He laughed and kissed me again, still smiling.

A soft meow came from the living room.

I pulled back from Mark and found Peaches. She was standing beside the coffee table. Mark followed with water glasses and set them on coasters. She watched us both, then climbed onto the couch and settled at the far end.

I took the middle cushion. Mark sat beside me at the lamp end rather than in the armchair he used during shoots. Our thighs touched. I rested my hand on his knee.