Always Have Summer: We-ll

He took the wine glass from my hand, set it on the counter, and kissed me. It tasted like salt and the end of things. I let myself fall into it—the scratch of his jaw, the warm hollow of his collarbone, the way his hand found the small of my back like it had been looking for it all year.

I laughed, because that was what we did. We laughed to keep the thing at bay. “You want me to stay for a plum ?” We-ll Always Have Summer

He smiled. It was the same crooked smile from the dock, from nineteen, from the first moment I ever saw him and thought, Oh. There you are. He took the wine glass from my hand,