Hollis grabs my face in his hands and kisses me. It starts soft and sweet but gets deeper and harder as the seconds sweep by. My knees go weak from the taste of his mouth—cake mixed with beer mixed with Hollis—and the happiness at having him here. And having him happy. He pulls back, panting, and laughs. “Happy New Year, baby.” I bite my lip and try not to show him how affected I am by him. “Happy New Year, Hollis.”
