Chapter 13 Tallulah
Tallulah
"Ican't believe this happened. I'm so sorry!" Shelley exclaimed. She had arrived shortly after Manuel and Blossom.
"It's okay. Really." My head was buzzing, and I held onto Blossom to maintain my balance.
"No, it's not, Tallulah," Shelley insisted.
Jenny was in the back cleaning up the spilled water and broken glass. The rest of us stood at the front of the shop—Jamison and Manuel, Blossom and me, and Shelley and Riley, whose eyes were red-rimmed.
Jamison and I had guessed correctly. Riley had given us the wrong samples.
Each one was color-coded, and she had put out samples from a green-labeled box, which contained cannabis-infused samples, instead of the gold-labeled box, which contained the wedding cakes.
The honey lavender cake had been the only sample where the herbal flavor of the drug had been detectable.
Riley had apologized profusely, but the damage was done.
Frankly, I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.
I was one of those few people in the world who had a low tolerance for weed, a problem I discovered in my youth.
Since then, I hadn't touched the drug, but based on memories, I knew the high would last for a long time, and afterward, I'd probably have a headache.
All I wanted to do was go home and go to bed.
Mmm... sleep sounded like such a good plan right now.
"Why are the two of you smiling so much?" Blossom demanded.
I was smiling? I perked up and fixed my face.
"Because they're high off edibles," Manuel said, glancing at his father.
"The cakes were good, by the way. Especially the almond cake. Yummmm," Jamison said.
I looked at him. He looked at me.
Despite everything that had occurred—Blossom's shocked voice, the way Jamison and I guiltily jumped back from each other, and Manuel's confused expression as he stood behind my daughter—I started laughing again.
Jamison hid his face in his hands, his shoulders bouncing up and down as he chuckled.
Manuel rolled his eyes like a disgruntled parent. "We need to get them home."
"Good idea," Blossom said, gripping my arm, as if I were a misbehaving toddler.
"Tallulah, I'll call you," Shelley said.
"Bye," I sang, turning and waving as I was whisked away by my daughter, who seemed very strong all of a sudden.
Jamison and I locked eyes before I was tugged through the door, and time stopped. My heart contracted, and heat spread throughout my chest. The dynamic between us had shifted, and though in a woozy state, I was certain our relationship wouldn't be the same again.
Blossom helped me into Orange Julius, and we drove home in silence, my head resting against the cool window, eyes closed. Eventually, the drug would pass through my system, and I'd be back to normal. I just needed to rest.
I must have dozed off because one minute we were bumping along the road, and the next, Blossom was shaking me awake.
"We're home," she said, unhooking her seatbelt. "Don't move. I'm coming around to help you."
"I can walk," I muttered, fumbling with the belt. It wouldn't budge. I tugged angrily to get it loose. Great, I insisted I could walk but couldn't get out of the seatbelt.
Blossom opened my door and unsnapped the buckle with ease. She helped me out, and we slowly walked into the house.
"Are you going to be okay?" she asked as she escorted me down the hall.
"Take me to my bed, and I'll be fine."
In my room, she helped me undress, removed my shoes, and tucked me in.
"I'll check on you later."
"All right, my love," I whispered.
I sensed her standing over me but couldn't open my eyes. Being in bed seemed to have a dramatic effect on my ability to lift my lids. I simply couldn't, as if they were glued shut.
I sighed and finally fell asleep.
At almost midnight, I woke up, and as suspected, I had a headache. Now that I was safely in my own space, I replayed what had occurred.
I may have been high, but there was no denying what had happened between me and Jamison. I had almost kissed him over an almost empty platter of weed cake samples.
When he leaned in, I should have pulled back or made a joke to diffuse the situation, but the warm pressure of his thumb on my skin had hypnotized me, and my entire body had tingled with anticipation. With a clearer mind, I was mortified we had practically been caught in a compromising position.
I sat up and winced as the pounding in my head intensified. Shuffling into the bathroom, I stared bleary-eyed at my reflection, wearing only a bra and cotton underwear.
"You look a mess," I told my reflection.
I splashed cool water on my face to wake up and rinsed my mouth with clove water. Back in my room, I pulled on a pair of baggy shorts and an oversized shirt and padded down the hall to the kitchen. I was dying of thirst and starving.
Blossom was sitting at the table with her laptop and magazines spread out before her.
"Hey, Stoner, how are you feeling?" she asked.
I paused to glower at her and pointed with my forefinger. "Don't make jokes. I was an innocent victim."
I drank two glasses of water and tossed back a couple of magnesium pills to help with the headache. If they didn't eliminate the pain in an hour or so, I'd take something stronger.
"What are you working on?" I opened a can of sardines and mashed them on a plate. Though I was hungry, I didn't want to have to cook anything. Sardines with crackers and a piece of fruit should hold me until the morning.
"Doing a little planning," Blossom answered. "Manuel has a lot of family on both sides, and it seems as if every single one of them wants to come to the wedding."
"Can you accommodate them at the venue?" I asked.
"I think so," she said slowly, eyes glued to the computer screen. "We have a few logistical issues to work out, but the good news is Mr. Harris has agreed to pay for the rehearsal dinner, so that's one less expense we have to worry about."
She looked up as I walked over to the table with my food.
"Sardines, sourdough bread, and a peach. Quite the meal you have there," Blossom said.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were enjoying my discomfort."
"Only a little bit. It's kind of funny that some edibles kicked your butt like that."
"I have a low tolerance, which I learned when I was your age. The high is more intense for people like me, and so are the aftereffects."
"Mr. Harris must have a low tolerance too. He was definitely out of it." Blossom flipped the page of one of the magazines.
"Neither he nor I would have been at the bakery getting high if not for the two of you. By the way, I wanted crackers with my sardines. Where are they? There was a whole sleeve in the pantry the other day."
"Oops. I forgot to mention we were out." Blossom watched me with interest. "So, you and Mr. Harris—"
"Whatever you're about to say—"
"Can I finish?"
I tensed, shoving a piece of sardine-covered bread into my mouth.
"You and Mr. Harris looked mighty friendly when Manuel and I walked in. I guess you're getting along a lot better now?"
I avoided her eyes and focused on my food. "He's not as bad as I originally thought, and he has a somewhat good sense of humor." I shrugged.
"He's not bad looking, either."
I lifted my gaze, and Blossom arched an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"
"What were you doing?" she countered.
"I was eating cake because my daughter was running late from an interview. Whatever you think you saw—"
"What do you think I think I saw?"
"Time for this conversation to come to an end. Do you need me to help you with the planning?" I gestured at everything on the table.
Quietly smug, she smiled. "No, I'm good for now. Glad you're feeling better."
"I'll feel a lot better in the morning once I've had a full night's sleep." I paused. "Have you heard from Manuel how his father is doing?" Considering her teasing, I hated to ask, but I was curious.
"He texted me and said his dad had gone straight to bed, like you."
"That's probably best." I picked up my plate and went to pour myself another glass of water. Taking my food, I headed toward the door. "I'm going to my room. You're sure you don't need my help?"
"I'm sure. Get some rest, Mom."
"You too. Don't stay up too late working on wedding plans. We can figure out the seating charts and whatever else you have going on tomorrow, okay?"
"Thanks."
I strolled back to my room and kicked the door shut with the heel of my foot. Sitting cross-legged on my comforter, I bit into the peach.
The drugs had had an interesting effect on me once they kicked in.
I had become aware of Jamison in pieces.
Like the way his shoulders had relaxed out of their usual rigid line.
His gray eyes were lighter than I originally noticed and observed me with blatant interest. The way he wrote his notes and graded the cakes.
I could tell he took the whole process probably more seriously than necessary.
Then there was the almost-kiss. My body ached with regret. My core throbbed with unresolved sexual tension.
Sighing, I leaned back against the pillows and closed my eyes, the peach forgotten in my hand. I relived the moment Jamison touched me and the way the world narrowed to the small space between us. The next time I saw him, should I pretend nothing happened?
I had carefully dodged the conversation Blossom tried to have about Jamison, but there was no escaping the truth. The drugs had stripped away my defenses, but they didn't invent the feelings I had experienced.
I wanted Jamison Harris. My daughter's future father-in-law.
That was a problem.