The world exploded into light and sound around them, but all she felt was the warmth of his mouth, the strength of his arms wrapping around her waist, the steady beat of his heart against her chest. It tasted like champagne and rain and the faint salt of her own tears. It tasted like a beginning.
The words hit her like a physical thing. She gripped the railing harder.
“I’m exactly on time.” He stepped closer, and the floorboards creaked under him. “It’s not midnight yet.” midnight kisses jeanine benedict
“Seattle,” he said, as if testing the word.
“Seattle,” she agreed.
“That sounds ominous,” he said lightly.
She stood on the balcony of her tiny sixth-floor walk-up, the fire escape ladder cold under her bare feet. Below, the streets of New Orleans glistened like wet ink. The wrought iron railing was strung with fairy lights she’d never bothered to take down from last Christmas, and their soft glow caught the edges of her face—the tired line of her jaw, the way she chewed her lower lip. The world exploded into light and sound around
Jeanine looked down at her hands. They were shaking. She pressed them flat against the railing. “I got a job offer. In Seattle.”