SEVENTEEN
PAM
I choose to be calm and at peace.
“Okay, Pam. Okay. You can do this,” I reminded myself for the umpteenth time this morning. I’d spent the last fifteen minutes pacing back and forth in front of my living room window, waiting for the car that would take me to the airport to arrive.
Both of my kids had offered to drop me off, but Alistair insisted on using some fancy car service with a concierge who would help me with my luggage and make sure I got to where I needed to be.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” I told Remi.
He let out a miserable meow and clawed at the mesh of his travel carrier as if to say he couldn’t believe it was happening either.
Just as the sleek black SUV pulled into the driveway, my phone vibrated with a text message from Alistair.
Alistair: Your car should be there. Make sure you let the driver help you with your luggage. That’s what I’m paying him for.
There was a knock at the door.
That was weird.
Maybe he got notifications from the car service or something.
“Give me just one second,” I yelled and typed out a response to Alistair.
Me: Will do. Can’t wait to see you. I’ll text you when I make it to the airport.
I opened the front door to find an older gentleman dressed in a black suit that matched the sophistication of the SUV.
“Mrs. Rollins?” he asked.
“Yep. Hi, that’s me.”
“I’m Ronald. I’ll be your driver today. Allow me to help with your bags.”
I was only visiting Colorado for a week, but considering the extreme weather, my yoga gear, and the fact that Remi was traveling with me, I’d filled two suitcases to the brim.
Ronald wheeled my suitcases out to the car, and I grabbed Remi and my backpack. Giving my house one last look, I closed the door and locked it behind me.
As I walked to the car, it felt like I was walking on air, which meant the anxiety meds my doctor prescribed were finally kicking in—about time. Ronald opened the door for me, and no sooner had I slipped inside—
“Hey, pretty lady.”
That voice.
That deep, rumbly, toe-curling voice.
“No. No!” I said, scrambling further inside. “What are you doing here?” Tears were already threatening my mascara.
Alistair smiled that familiar lopsided grin and held his arms out. After setting Remi down on the seat, I essentially tackled him.
“Oof,” he groaned and wrapped his strong arms around me. “You’re stronger than you look, you know that?”
I laughed and buried my face in the thick tuft of chest hair peeking out from his shirt. That woodsy sage scent of his felt like home. And my scarf.
He was wearing my scarf.
“You’re here,” I mumbled.
