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The kiss was flight, the kind of kiss that had magic I hadn’t known existed. Or maybe it was the kind of kiss I had known long before and had all but forgotten, like the scent of roses once they’re no longer in bloom.
We came apart, the kiss still fluttering in the air between us, but muted now and then it plunged with a heavy thought. Kyle. What was I going to do about Kyle? I had married him in the Wedding Chapel at Caesar’s Palace, canned Elvis singing “Love me Tender.” I was still married to him. I wanted Kyle to be someone different. I wanted him to be Slate. Slate, who I seemed to have travelled back in time to find. Slate, whose violet blue eyes were watching me with such intensity it made my heart hurt.
“I need…” I began, not able to put words to my feelings. “It’s a lot to take in. I’m not sure how to move forward from here. And yet I have this sense I belong here, with you.”
“Maybe it is,” Slate said. “Where you belong.”