Page 65 of Before We Came

“Shut up. It’s not like that.”

“There are so many memories I want to make with you?”

“I should have never shown you that. Redact.”

“I’m serious. From what I’ve seen, he treats you well. Don’t you think this is him laying the groundwork for something? And may I remind you that he and I have spoken a few times already? He likes you, Bird. He flew me out here to surprise you. That’s not fuckboy energy. That’s big-dick-husband-daddy energy. How do you feel about him?”

“I like him.”

“Youlikehim?”

“I like him.”

“And?”

“I can’t ‘and’ anything yet. I don’t even have a living identity. I’m still on my Visa Waiver Program (VWP) from Canada. If things don’t get fixed soon, I will probably have to go back to Vancouver until it is. I don’t know when that will be—I was looking this stuff up online, some guy from Ohio went through this same process, and it took him fourteen months to be taken off the death list. Fourteen! This could take years, so I can’t commit anything to him. Besides, I can’t just mooch off him forever, enough people have already screwed him over, and I won’t be one of them.”

“That’s the spirit...” she grumbles into her drink. “So, then, what’s your plan?”

“I don’t know, have fun? We have chemistry. Likechemistry-chemistry.He’s so fucking hot, Mick.”

I throw my head back on the bed, fanning myself. She laughs at me.

“That’s no lie. If there’s more of where he came from, I’ll certainly consider becoming a transplant. Actually, this uptown area would be a great spot for the bar,” she says, referring to her cocktail lounge venture.

* * *

I loved having my worlds collide between family and Micky and Lonan. Seeing everyone get along so well fills my heart to the brim. All I need is for this social security shit to work itself out and then life will be peachy.

We spent the afternoon watching old home videos. I got to see videos of Jack growing up, which was hard but also a beautiful way to see how my family still cared for each other in my absence. I even saw clips from pastBirdie Days, which was one of the most depressing things I’ve ever witnessed. It was like watching my own funeral. No, thanks. I, hereby, forbid any more October Birdie Days.Woof.

We played pond hockey, something I hadn’t done in forever. Jack took new home videos on his phone for us to rewrite some of the old depressingBirdie birthdays. Hockey is fun, though I suspect the ice Lonan skates on is in a little better condition than this. My skate caught a divot, and I was thrown on my ass. Good thing I have a big ass. Micky is also quite the skater, something I didn’t know about her. I’m sad she has only two more days here, so I plan to spend as much time as possible with her.

After her full day of travel and the busy day, she trods up to the guest bedroom, and I stay awake a bit longer to finish watching the hockey game. He scores two goals. I’m in awe of him. Watching Lonan pant and sweat, being completely in his element, does something to me. I want to get him that worked up for me. I text him my congratulations with each goal, even though I know he won’t respond until much later.

After I crawl into bed, he’s still on my mind. I head back to his place on Monday. We’ve grown so much closer since being apart. Sometimes he calls me after a game, still wired from the adrenaline. We stay up talking into the early morning hours. Being at my parents’ house and chatting all night feels like I’m thirty going on thirteen. However, the things I want to do to Lonan are definitely eighteen plus.

I slide my hands between my thighs and let my imagination run wild.

* * *

He should be home any minute, and I’m on pins and needles, trying not to pace. Yesterday morning, I had my wax, and I spent the afternoon getting all dolled up. I look hot. Under his jersey, I’m wearing some sexy lingerie that make my ass and tits look fantastic.

Operation Feed the Kitty is well underway. All systems are go.

I’ve decided I will make him an extra special dinner tonight—lobster ravioli. I found a quality protein powder to add to the pasta flour. And lobster is full of healthy omegas and vitamins that his usual lean protein, like chicken, is missing. It’s the perfect special dinner. There’s still a mixture of flour and protein powder coating the counter when the elevator dings, but the ravioli are made, and they just need to be added to my salt water. Hearing the familiar noise brings a smile to my face.

“I’m home!” he calls out, emerging from the hallway. He takes one look at me and drops his duffle bag. “Ohh, you’re in trouble.”

He removes his suit coat, tosses it over his bag, and unbuttons his cuffs, rolling up his sleeves.Fuck.The walls of my vagina constrict as soon as I see him. He’s in his navy suit, freshly showered. That devilish smile beaming as he comes over to wrap his arms around my body. His scent envelops me, and I close my eyes, trying to imprint this moment forever. The feel of our bodies pressed together, his deep voice, the anticipation that hangs in the air . . .

I’ve missed him, not only physically but emotionally as well. He’s been my closest friend since moving here. I miss our banter and jokes, playing cards, and the mundane things of living together, dishes, laundry, and seeing him in his sweats and tube socks. The thoughtful things he does, like rub my feet when I’m reading.

“I missed you,” he says, tilting my chin up.

Then he kisses me. It’s charged, his lips electric against mine. It’s lustful and full of longing. Returning his kiss with the same enthusiasm, I cannot hold back a small gasp. When he growls in response, it goes straight to my center. Nobody turns me on like he does.

He spins me around, my back pressed to his front, and leans down, tucking his chin at the junction of my neck and shoulder. “What are you making? It smells terrific.”

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