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Cool-guy is leaving for one month. There's a lot to do before he steps onto that plane. We still need to have THAT talk. Um. When will we fit it in?

Living the Life of Holly
By Holly Winter
One More Kiss

“Wait. Don’t start yet.” Cool-guy said. “Here’s another shirt.”

I shook my head. “You’ve got to be kidding. You think you’re going to fit six shirts, six pairs of pants, five long chef coats, shoes, socks, underwear, toiletries and all of your Spain and Portugal clothes into a little carry on roller board suitcase?”

“Yup, missy. I sure do. You’re the one who said that you were good at packing. Now. Start packing.”

“Sure. I’m a great packer. First let’s make some room.”

“Ok.” He conceded. “I’ll leave out the blue shirt.”

I put the chef coats into the suitcase. They were important. He was one of three chefs from the United States who were invited to London to attend a prestigious Indian Food cooking school.

I packed two pair of pants, three shirts and a few small things. “Ok. You can have all of this and one kiss.” I said, kissing him.

He paled as he considered the pile of necessary clothes on his bed. “You FAIL as a packer.”

I laughed. “You have a choice. Either you buy another suitcase now, or do a lot of laundry when you get there.”

“I hate laundry.”

“How about a nice hanging bag? You could use one for all those TV appearances you do when you fly around the country for work. People like chefs who aren’t rumpled.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Whatever.”

I relaxed in the rock garden while he prepared our big goodbye breakfast. We wouldn’t see each other for a month when we would celebrate a three day reunion in London. He would be at the end of his three week trip, and I would be at the beginning of my ten day vacation abroad.

He brought out a tray of fruit.

“Up all night cooking?” I asked.

“Nope.” He said, popping a blueberry into my mouth. “I was busy last night.”

I laughed. “Did you know I love blueberries?”

“All women love blueberries.”

“Not as much as I do. You must have broken down and started reading my columns, huh?”

“Nope. I prefer others reporting to me what you write about.”

I laughed. “I write about loving blueberries. Glad you’re getting the message.”

We walked into the luggage department. He could get a really decent hanging bag for about two hundred dollars, or a good one for about one hundred dollars.

“You pick, Ms. flight attendant.” He said, spinning around the possibilities.

“I was fired, remember? I’m no longer a flight attendant. I don’t think my former employer would say I’m suited to serve your water or pick your luggage.”

“Why were you fired? I still don’t get it.”

“Me neither. I don’t think they liked my doctor’s handwriting. Don’t worry. The EEOC is going to figure it all out. Now. Stop hedging and pick your new hanging bag. How about black?”

We got to the airport early. I lucked out. My friend Ellen worked at DIA and got me a pass. I was able to hang out with Cool-guy till he was ready to fly.

“Have you ever had a date at the airport before?” He asked.

“Nope. This’s my first.” I smiled. We were hanging out on the bridge between security and Concourse One watching the planes take off.

“Have you ever been kissed on this bridge before?”

“No.” I laughed.

He gave me a long, hard kiss.

There was a sound. What was that sound? A whirling sound. It had nothing to do with the kiss, I was sure. I looked up. Some tourists were taking our photo.

He laughed. “Well. Now it’s been recorded. You can’t ever say that you haven’t been kissed here. There’s a record of it.”

“I can never go to Japan.” I blushed. “I’ll be resigned to eating Denver Sushi forever. Um. Let’s go find your plane.”

“Wait.” He smiled. “There’s always time for one more kiss.”

We moved to the gate area. I had to ask. But how? It was really important to me. I had to ask. But. How?

“Um. What do you expect from a relationship?” I asked.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with one person and make babies and live happily ever after.”

I froze. I stopped breathing. Hey. That wasn’t funny.

He laughed uncontrollably. “Ok. Sorry. But. That IS what I want.”

“Ok.” I managed. “How about the short term? What would you like in the short term?”

He smiled and took a deep breath. “An open heart. I can only ask that you keep your heart open.”

“Oh.” I kissed him. I wasn’t expecting that. I kissed him again. What rule book was he playing by?

“What do you want?” He asked.

“Yeah. Good. That open heart thing sounds great.” I mumbled.

He laughed. “What else were you going to say?”

“That’s exactly what I was going to say.”

He waited.

“Ok.” I started. “We haven’t talked about this. But. Monogamy is REALLY important to me.”

He tilted his head to the side. “You mean if I see someone else I want, I can’t have her?”

I didn’t say anything.

“How would you ever know?” He asked.

I didn’t say anything. Maybe I was wrong about him. Good thing I was finding out now. Guess this talk should have happened sooner? I’m so naïve, aren’t I?

He shook his head. “Holly. Haven’t I made my feelings for you really clear?”

“Monogamy can’t be implied.” I said.

“I would never do anything to damage this relationship.” He said, carefully.

“This can’t be implied.”

“Monogamy is the only way I do relationships.” He said. “But not because you say so. And not because I say so. It’s because it’s the way I am.”

I looked at him. “Me too.”

“Girl. You have nothing to worry about.” He leaned in very close and put his arms around me. “And. If there’s someone you need to spend time with, now is a good time for you to do it. I want you to be sure about us.”

I shook my head. “I’m sure.” Um. Now. I needed to say that other thing. “And. You need to know that if we continue to spend time together, I’ll be writing columns about it.”

“I don’t care about being the man in your columns.” He said. “Write anything you want. I don’t care.”

He kissed me as they made the last call for his London flight.

“Holly. “I don’t care about being the man in your columns. I know you’ve had lots of men interviewing for that position.”

I laughed.

“I want to be the man in your life. I understand that’s the same as being the man in your columns. Write anything you want. I don’t care. Just promise you’ll answer the phone while I’m away… even if you’re writing, answer the phone, ok?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.” I laughed, over the goodbye kiss. “I’ll answer the phone.”

I watched him walk down the jet way. “Don’t forget the postcards.”

“Aye. Ye, ye.” He said to the man walking next to him. “These women. They want kisses, breakfast, phone calls and postcards. What else can we possibly give them?”

The man next to him started grumbling about women. Cool-guy turned back and blew me a kiss.

Yeah. I’m good with that. Cause. There’s always time for one more kiss.

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