Chapter Twenty-One
Twenty-One
Alistair
Nothing is worth more than this day. You cannot relive yesterday. Tomorrow is still beyond your reach.
—Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
I still couldn’t get over the fact that Pam was here.
Last night we’d had a romantic dinner at home. The combination of carbs, copious amounts of wine, and the heavy snowfall meant that we’d spent most of today snuggled up in bed eating junk food and watching old movies.
I had zero complaints.
“We should probably eat some real food,” I said, and ran my finger over Pam’s shoulder. It was dotted with these adorable little freckles, likely from being out in the sun, but I thought they were one of the prettiest things about her.
She snuggled closer and buried her face in my chest hair. “But I’m so warm, and you smell so good.”
“Why don’t I give you one of my sweatshirts to wear. I know that’s like the ultimate sign of affection, and I probably won’t get it back.”
She braced herself up on her elbow and stared me down. “I mean, I did give you my favorite scarf.”
“An eye for an eye, I suppose,” I said with a grin. “Come on.”
She followed me to the walk-in closet, and I pointed to where my hoodies hung clustered together.
“Take your pick.”
“Hmm,” she said, her fingers trailing across the sleeves.
Gods, I hope she doesn’t pick my favorite…
It was like she could read my thoughts.
She stopped at my well-loved Evergreen University hoodie—the one with a half zip to accommodate my horns. Bringing the sleeve up to her nose, she inhaled deeply.
“This one.”
Of. Fucking. Course.
But if I was going to give my favorite hoodie to anyone, it would be her.
“That one’s my favorite,” I said, and her expression dropped.
“I can pick another—”
I stepped closer, took the hoodie off the hanger, and handed it to her with a sincere smile. “No, I want you to have it. Every time you wear it, you’ll think of me. The same way I think of you when I wear your scarf.”
She smiled and scraped her teeth over that full lower lip of hers. “Thank you.”
Without warning, she lifted her tattered Alanis shirt over her head and gave me a glimpse of her tits.
Gods, I wish I could have been on the other side of that glass yesterday.
She pulled the hoodie over her head before I could act on all the devious thoughts racing through my mind, her significantly smaller body practically drowning in it.
“How do I look?” She pulled up the zipper and gave me a little twirl with her arms flapping in the sleeves.
“Adorable.” I was utterly enamored with this woman. She was all the trouble I’d anticipated and more.
She grabbed her glasses from the nightstand and followed me down to the living room, then over to the windows.
“It’s really coming down out there. Obviously, we get snow in Briar Glenn, but it’s nothing like this.”
I tsked, watching the fat snowflakes cover the deck. “The roads are probably a mess.”
She leaned against me. “Perfect for a night in.”
A perfect night for something else…
“Would you, uh, would you want to take an edible?” I asked shyly.
I didn’t want her to feel pressured, but it was something I enjoyed.
“All right,” she said with a shrug. “When in Rome…”
I chuckled and shook my head. “It’s still crazy to me that someone with a deep love for ’90s alternative has never smoked pot.”
“Alistair, I lived in small-town USA and watched Nirvana Unplugged while my kids were down for their nap. It wasn’t exactly like I had a ton of opportunities. Besides, Don would have flipped his lid.”
Don.
I hated that motherfucker.
Or maybe I was just jealous that he got to spend so many years with her while I was left soaking up whatever time with her I could.
“Well, today that changes. This way to the stash drawer, madam.”
“You have an entire drawer?” she asked, and followed me into the kitchen.
“Yes, I have a drawer. I’m CEO of a cannabis company, remember?” I pulled the drawer open, and the skunky scent of pot wafted out.
“Goodness.” She wrinkled her nose. “That is pungent.”
“I take it you’ve never been to a concert, either?”
She shook her head.
Yeah. I was taking her to see Alanis.
“You know, I want you to make a list of all the things you’ve always wanted to do but never got the chance to, and we’re going to work our way down the list. We can check off ‘plane ride’ and ‘edibles.’ ”
Anything she wanted, I’d foot the bill. We’d do it all.
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough for me?”
I grabbed her hip and tugged her to me for a quick kiss. “Sweetheart, this is just the beginning. Now, let’s see…”
I flipped through the pouches and packets, searching for something that wouldn’t have her cemented to the couch for four hours. I should have prepared for this ahead of time, but I wasn’t sure she’d say yes.
Five milligrams was probably good for her first time.
Right?
It had been a long time since I took a low dose like that, but with edibles, things could go bad fairly quickly.
I could only imagine that phone call: Hey, Tegan, I overdosed your mom with edibles. She saw the goddess and panicked. We’re at the emergency room, but she’s going to be fine!
I stopped on a packet of pink lemonade gummies that were exactly five milligrams.
Those would work.
I grabbed a gummy out of the packet and held it out to her. “These are a really low dosage. They’re what Chai normally takes. It’ll take about thirty minutes to kick in and be more of a body high. You’ll probably want to just chill on the couch.”
She went to grab the gummy but hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t need my help with dinner? I don’t want to get all stoned and be a burden.”
“You’re never a burden. I like cooking for you.” I lowered my voice and whispered, “Plus, you make me nervous when you use a knife.”
She snorted and snatched the gummy. “Whatever, Mr. Top Chef,” she grumbled.
“Make sure you chew it up. Don’t just swallow it.”
She chewed dramatically, making me laugh. I loved seeing her like this—goofy and playful—because I got the impression she’d never been like this with Don. It made me feel special in my own right. That this was something she’d shared with me and no one else.
I popped my own gummy, and while I chewed, I got us a glass of water to share.
Pam took a long drink, then passed me the glass. “Those taste awful. What are they supposed to be?” She picked up the package and read the label. “Pink lemonade? Maybe pink lemonade mixed with dirt.”
“Yeah, I should have warned you. No matter what you do, that cannabis taste is still there.”
“Your company should work on that.”
I’d been dodging any efforts she made to talk about the company or Jonathan’s offer. I was having such a great time with her; I didn’t want to think about it.
Time to change the subject.
“Do you want to listen to some music?” I asked, walking over to the shelf that held my record collection.
She followed behind me, her eyes scanning the titles. “Your collection puts mine to shame. You’d get along with Reece’s mate, Cyrus. He’s a big record collector.”
If I ever met him, we’d have plenty to talk about, then.
“If there’s anything in particular you want to add to your collection, let me know and I’ll try to track it down for you,” I offered.
Pam slid a record off the shelf and handed it to me: Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers Greatest Hits.
“A classic. Great choice, babe.”
“I thought Tom Petty might be appropriate for my first cannabis experience.”
“It really is. Why don’t you go make yourself comfortable?” I slid the record out of the sleeve, and by the time the intro to “American Girl” started, Pam was already snuggled under a blanket with Remi in her lap.
“You two are cute.” I sat beside them, wrapped my arm around Pam’s shoulder, and pulled her closer.
“No, you are.” She sang the chorus under her breath. “I love this song.”
“I mean, you lived it.”
“Pretty much.” She grabbed my hand, her thumb rubbing over my fingers. “But now I know there’s more to life. So much more.”
I grinned and kissed her forehead because I felt the exact same way.
We sat like that for a while, cuddled together and vibing to the music until the first side of the record was over.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
She looked at me and smiled. Her eyes were glassy, the green made more vibrant by the red surrounding them. “I feel good.”
“You look like you feel good,” I said with a smirk, even though I was sure I looked the same way. “Are you hungry?”
She nodded.
“I’ll make us something to eat.”
Her face lit up. “That would be amazing. Can you flip the record, too?”
“Already planned on it, sweetheart.”
I gave her a throw pillow to use in my place and pushed myself off the couch with a groan.
Yesterday’s yoga routine had proven to be quite the workout.
I flipped the record and went to the kitchen, sneaking a glance at Pam on the couch. She was slumped against the pillow with her eyes closed, petting Remi, and mouthing the words to “Don’t Do Me Like That.”
She was definitely feeling it. I was just glad she was enjoying it.
“Hey, American Girl, what are you in the mood for?” I called out to her over the music.
Her eyes fluttered open and she thought for a second. “Can you make me a grilled cheese?”
While that wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I told her we needed to eat some real food, who was I to deny her? It was her first time having the munchies, after all.
“You got it, pretty lady. One grilled cheese coming right up.”
I grabbed the butter and cheese from the fridge, and when I turned around, Pam was sitting at the island.
I grinned across the counter at her, loving how comfortable she felt in my home. “You didn’t have to get up, babe. I would have brought it over to you.”
She shook her head. “I wanted to keep you company.”
“Well, thank you. Thirsty?” I asked, noticing how scratchy her voice sounded.
She nodded, and when I passed her the water, she drained the glass.
“Gods, you’re wonderful,” she said, wiping her mouth with the sleeve of my hoodie.
“Wonderful? You can call me Al.”
She snorted. “I was so worried you were going to think that joke was stupid.”
I flipped her grilled cheese, then leaned over the counter to look at her. “It wasn’t stupid at all. That’s how I knew we were going to hit it off. And we’ve been hitting it off every day since.”
I thought about her all day, every day. Wondering what she was doing and when I’d get to talk to her next. Wishing I could see her.
And here she was.
We’d seamlessly slipped into a routine like we’d never been apart. Like this was natural. Like together was where we belonged.
I plated her sandwich and slid it in front of her. “Dinner is served.”
She picked it up immediately and dug right into it with a big bite.
I raised my brows in anticipation, and she gave me a thumbs-up.
“This is so freaking good,” she mumbled through a mouthful of food.
“I’m glad. Only the best for you.”
“Are you going to make one for yourself?”
I shook my head, headed to the pantry, grabbed a bulk-size jar of peanut butter, and set it on the counter.
“You aren’t allergic, are you?” I asked, remembering that it was a pretty common allergen.
Again, the last thing we needed was an ER visit.
“Nope.”
I slathered a slice of bread with a generous serving of peanut butter and slapped another piece of bread on top.
“You aren’t going to put any jelly on that?” Pam asked, her mouth hanging open when I looked her dead in the eye and took a big bite.
“Nope.” My speech was garbled from the sandwich sticking to the roof of my already dry mouth.
Her eyes narrowed. “I was convinced you weren’t a serial killer, but now I’m not so sure.”
“This was all part of my plan. Coerce you out here, give you orgasms, and make you eat peanut butter sandwiches sans jelly.”
She snorted and brought her hand up to her mouth. “The orgasms are worth it.”
“They’re about all I’m good for.”
“You’re good for all the things.”
Just as I shoved the last bite of the sandwich into my mouth, “Here Comes My Girl” started to play.
I forced my food down and walked over to Pam.
“Dance with me.” I extended my hand out to her, demanding rather than asking.
She briefly looked at my outstretched palm, then slid her dainty little hand into mine.
I slipped my other hand around her waist, leaned over slightly to make up for our size difference, and slowly led her around the kitchen.
Tom Petty’s voice rasped, flowed soft and smooth, then rasped again. I locked eyes with Pam, grinning like a fool because the lyrics conveyed all the things I felt about her.
It was snowing. We were stoned, and she was all I needed tonight. I spun her just as the music faded before bringing her close and dipping her with a soft kiss.
She gazed up at me as I pulled away, her chest heaving. “You’re a good dancer.”
I chuckled. “Much better than I am at ice skating?”
“Definitely better than you are at ice skating.”
I grinned and ran my thumb along her jaw. “What do you wanna do now, sweetheart?”
She looked over at the couch, where Remi was snuggled up on a blanket. “Maybe we can watch the snow?”
“I’d love that. Why don’t you go wait for me on the couch?”
“Okay,” she said on the tail end of a yawn. It reminded me of that first night we talked on the phone, when we were both nervous about our date.
Here we were a month and a half later, and I couldn’t imagine my life without her.
I stopped the record player and dimmed the lights before joining her on the couch.
“Lay your head in my lap. Stretch out and get comfortable.”
“Are you sure? Isn’t that going to be uncomfortable for you?”
“I’ll be fine. Give me your glasses, and I’ll set them on the armrest.” I knew she was going to fall asleep, but if this was what she wanted, I’d happily give it to her.
She put the pillow on my lap, handed me her glasses, and laid her head down, wriggling closer until she was comfortable. Her red hair cascaded down her back, practically begging me to touch it.
Giving in to temptation, I stroked my fingers over the crown of her head, making her hum.
“That feels nice,” she said, her voice heavy.
“Good.”
Remi snuggled up beside her, and I could barely make out her fingers slowly stroking his back.
Fluffy white flakes continued to fall, blanketing the mountains with a fresh layer of snow.
It was perfect for what I had planned for tomorrow.
Eventually, Pam’s breathing slowed and her hand stilled. Remi wriggled out from under her palm, carefully stepped over her head, and climbed onto my chest.
He was such a cool cat.
“Remi,” I whispered, “when you go back home, remind your mama how special she is, how she lights up a room with her smile, and that her snort is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”
I scratched his chin, and he said he would—well, not with his words, but that’s how I interpreted his contented purr.
Leaning back, I closed my eyes and smiled to myself because this…
It was everything my life had been missing.