Kingston Kiss
"Returning to Jamaica after twenty years abroad, British-born investor Marcus reconnects with childhood friend Nadine—and discovers first love burns brightest when rekindled."
Marcus barely recognized Kingston. But he'd recognize Nadine anywhere.
Twenty years. She'd transformed from skinny childhood friend to thick, stunning woman. But those eyes—those were the same eyes that had been his whole world at fifteen.
"Yuh come back," she said.
"I always said I would."
"Twenty years late."
"Better late than never?"
She showed him the Jamaica he'd forgotten. The streets they'd run. The beaches they'd dreamed on. The tree where he'd almost kissed her at fifteen and lost his nerve.
"Yuh remember this place?" she asked.
"I've thought about it every day since I left."
"The tree? Or what almost happened here?"
"You know which."
"Then finish it," she said.
Twenty years dissolved. The kiss was everything their teenage selves had dreamed and their adult selves had needed.
"Mi waited," she whispered.
"So did I."
"Then don't make mi wait anymore."
Her cottage was warm with memory and possibility. That thick body finally his, the fulfillment of decades of wondering.
"Yes! Marcus! Right there!"
Every fantasy from adolescence made real. Every grown-up desire added on top.
"Don't stop! We making up for lost time!"
"I'm staying," he announced the next morning.
"Yuh have a life in London—"
"I had an existence. This is life." He pulled her close. "You're life."
"Yuh sure?"
"Twenty years sure."
Marcus Baptiste moved his investment firm to Kingston.
Married Nadine under that same tree.
First love, last love, only love that matters.
"Worth the wait?" she asks.
"Worth everything."
Kingston kiss.
Finally.
Forever.