Sunshine & Whiskey

by R. L. Griffin

  “You remembered,” I whisper.

  “I remember everything about you,” he answers the unanswered question of what’s between us.

  I shake my head at the injustice of my wasted two years with Chad. It pisses me off, but then it’s Peter’s fault, so then I’m pissed at him.

  “I know.”He winks and orders two giant Sapporo beers.

  “What are we doing?” I look around the restaurant and it’s exactly perfect. I hate him in that moment, and I just want to go back to the hotel.

  “We’re having sushi, and then I’m going to take you to my house and make love to you Megan. I think we fucked enough last night and this morning, don’t you?”

  “Make love.” I laugh.

  “You don’t remember how it is to make love Megan?” The desire in his voice stirs something inside, and I try not to choke on regret.

  At the right moment the server comes over with our beers, and I focus on pouring mine so I can guzzle it and order another one.

  “I don’t want you drunk tonight Megan. I want you to remember every flick of my tongue,” Peter whispers in my ear. “I want you to remember when you straddle me and do the things you want to do. I want you to remember when your head falls back and I’m inside you. I want you to remember everything.”

  Well, how do you fucking do. I’ve missed this. Chad’s attempt at foreplay was fingering me while in bed. I had forgotten how much fun Peter had tormenting me through the day and dinner until we finally met up at our apartment or got home from a date.

  “You’re killing me,” I whisper back and trail my fingertips across my collarbone.

  “I want to kill you, and then revive you while you are naked and in my bed.”

  “Peter…” I can’t even get through dinner without wanting him inside me, but I guess it used to be like this. “Do you remember that time we were doing research in the library around 3:00 in the morning?”

  A grin cracks his face in half and he chuckles, rubbing his hand over his beard. “I don’t remember the research part.”

  I cock my head to the side in a question.

  “I remember you on one of those ladders and my face buried in between your legs.” He licks his lips as he says it.

  “I remember you burying something else inside me as we were caught in the Federal Reports.”

  Peter leans back his chair and laughs heartily. “I don’t think Shane was ever the same after that.”

  “Oh, he kept coming on to me like I’d fuck anyone like that in the library.”

  The amusement falls off his face. “He did?”

  I nod.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” All of a sudden he’s serious.

  “It wasn’t a big deal Peter,” I answer and take a sip of my beer. “What should we get?” I change the subject.

  He’s already filled out our order. We’re getting my favorites. “You’re really trying to wine me and dine me.”

  “There is no better view than when my mouth is between your legs.”

  “Fuck, will you shut up about sex before I make you take me to the bathroom and get it over with,” I demand.

  His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Sorry, I feel like a man who’s been starving for years and finally I get to eat again. I remember everything I love about food and how I want to…”

  “Stop,” I demand and smile as our server comes back. Peter hands her the list of sushi we’re ordering. “I’d like some edamame too please.”

  “And vegetable tempura,” he adds.

  I look at him. He knows I love tempura, but I don’t order it because it’s bad for me.

  “You only live once.” He shrugs.

  “I saw you also ordered the Big O roll,” I comment.

  “I want to see you with a big O several times tonight, this is just the start.”

  “You’re like a fucking twelve year old who’s just discovered sex.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Cue the Meltdown

  The rest of dinner is nice, full of innuendo and not so subtle touches and kisses. Peter pays the bill and his hand lands on my knee then travels up, his fingertips skirting just below the hem of my very short skirt. What? I want him to lust after me, my skirt is just short enough to be hot, but not super slutty. I lost my super slutty skirt in New Orleans. Did I tell you I left my cursed red whore boots there too? I totally did.

  “Let’s go, I have champagne and strawberries at my house.”

  My back aches with anticipation of his hand, and there it is, guiding me toward his SUV. I feel like it’s our first time, but I know it’s not. I feel like I want to turn back time, but I can’t. The air is thick with unanswered questions and I’m choking on it.

  “Hey, Red. Don’t forget to breathe,” Peter jokes.

  He used to call me Red. I know, real original nickname, but you should hear it when he yells it during orgasm. Peter closes the door behind me and I take my shoes off, the heels are killing me. When he slides in and shuts the door the current between us pops and sizzles.

  This is the problem with that guy, the one you compare every other guy to. There is little to zero chance to find this again. I sigh and his hands push my skirt up as he pulls onto the main road.

  “You don’t have underwear on,” his voice is so low it’s almost a growl.

  “Well, I didn’t want to lose any others while in Denver,” I joke, but the mention of me leaving Denver stops time. I see him close his eyes for a beat and open them with determination evident in the green irises.

  “I wouldn’t want you to lose more underwear, it’s important you wear it everywhere, but with me.”

  Quiet fills the SUV and Peter’s fingers are making me tingle and begin to sweat, my breathing is becoming more rapid.

  We pull into his driveway and we both jump out of the car and rush up the front steps. Peter puts the key in the door, all the while pulling me into him and plunging his tongue in my mouth. He pushes me against the door, his thumb rubbing my nipple through my shirt. I drop my heels on the floor and they make a very loud banging noise on the hardwood.

  “Fuck.” He tears his lips from mine and puts both hands on his face, making a clearing motion. “I can’t be gentle with you, I’ve missed you too much.” He leaves me at the door and walks through the den area into the kitchen. “I used to be able to be gentle and loving with you,” he’s muttering to himself and I can barely hear him.

  I shut the door and walk to the middle of the den.

  “Peter,” I say.

  He’s banging around the kitchen and not looking at me.

  “Peter,” I repeat myself.

  When he finally looks up from one of the lower cabinets I’m standing in his house with no clothes on. It’s just me, totally bare to him.

  I lean on one hip and turn my ankle a little bit in a nervous tick. “I heard something about there being a ride back here?” I smirk.

  When I say he runs from the kitchen, I swear I’m not exaggerating. He runs and then falls to his knees in front of me. He pushes my right leg out a bit and then lifts me.

  “Oh my God, Peter!” I laugh and then cry out and he shoves me against the wall and runs his tongue up and down, around and around. Then he bites me and I lose every ounce of composure I had. I’m grinding my hips into his face. I’m pretty sure he can’t breathe. I’m pretty sure I don’t care. “Peter, oh fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.”

  He never removes his mouth from me as he carries me awkwardly to the couch. I’m so vulnerable and open and he is still having his way with me and I fall apart and drift into the bliss of orgasm. When I finally come back down to reality he’s kissing the insides of my thighs, the sides of my abdomen, which is really ticklish by the way, and then he clamps down on my right nipple because he knows that one is more sensitive than my left one. He knows all of this because he knows me and he knows exactly what to do and I get lost in it.

  Yep, I totally lose myself in it, in him.

  I wake up with a start with a familiar
warm palm on my lower back. Suddenly, I’m taken back to law school when everything was perfect. When I was in love and that palm made me think my future was lined with flowers, chocolates, and fucking one man for the rest of my life. I slide out of the bed and slink out of the room, picking up my clothes from last night. I take a left, grab my bag and shoes from where we began on his couch and I exit his house. Taking a few seconds to put my heels on, I take a deep breath and chastise myself for getting too comfortable with the love of my life.

  I begin high tailing it toward the direction of the hotel and call Laura.

  “Hello,” she answers, her words broken and full of sleep.

  “Come get me,” I yell into the phone as I am walking as fast as I can toward the main road.

  “You okay?” Her voice sounds sufficiently awake now.

  “No, the fuck, I am not okay.”

  “I’m coming, where are you?”

  “Fuck if I know. Shit.” I stop and look at the street. “There is a coffee and pancake restaurant three blocks away. I’ll text you the address when I get there.”

  “Okay.” There’s rustling on the other end of the phone. “I’m in the hall now. See you in a minute.”

  Relief floods through my veins as I disconnect the phone, put it in my bag, and take a look back toward the way I came. I see nothing. I know this trip is supposed to be about doing whatever I want, but I can’t go back. He hurt me and ripped my perfect future away from me, and it was so fucking easy to fall back into him.

  “Damn it,” I curse myself. “Idiot.”

  I cross the vacant street and to my relief the restaurant just turned the open sign on. I search the name on my phone and send the address to Laura. She really is that person who takes me as I am, lets me fuck things up so I can make my own decisions. I could tell she’s been holding her tongue for three days.

  “Hi ya,” a man from behind the counter calls out as I enter the restaurant. “What can I get you?”

  I look down at my phone and it’s five in the morning on a Monday, no wonder it’s dead. “I want…” I look at the menu and I can’t decide what I want. “Get me two vanilla lattes and two pancake/peanut butter banana sandwiches.”

  “Okay, here ya go,” he hands me a number. “That’ll be $17.23.”

  As I hand over my card, I hear the bells chime. “That was quick,” I turn around to say to Laura, but it’s Peter standing there, in jeans and a pullover. “Shit,” I mutter under my breath.

  “Megan.” His voice is full of hurt and confusion, he starts over to me.

  “Here ya go. I’ll bring your lattes and plates over in a few,” the guy behind the counter says in his chipper fucking voice.

  “Thanks.” I move toward a table, not wanting to be his entertainment. I pick the farthest one from the counter and Peter, but still where I can see outside. I sit and don’t even acknowledge Peter.

  He sits down across from me and stares at me.

  “Stop it,” I demand like a child.

  “Why did you leave?” He leans back in his chair casually, like this is a conversation about baseball.

  “It doesn’t matter, does it Peter?” I challenge him.

  “I don’t understand.” Peter talks with his hands and they reach out for me. I put mine in my lap.

  “You left first. You left me. I need to get out of here before I let you hurt me again.” My voice is small with this admission, and I sort of hate myself for telling him this truth.

  “I…” A sadness fills his features that doesn’t belong there.

  “Peter. It’s fine, you made your decision a long time ago. I just didn’t realize I could fall back into you so easily. This is on me. I needed to leave, so I did.”

  “Without a goodbye?”

  “Goodbye.” I look him in the eyes when I say this because he never did that for me. I deserved to be looked in the eyes when he told me he was taking a job in Denver.

  He reaches across the table to grab my hand from my lap, but I pull it back again before he can reach it. “Megan,” he starts and runs his hand through his thick waves.

  “Peter, really. Just go. You said all you needed to say a few years ago, and I’m sure it still applies.”

  “That’s the problem Megan, it doesn’t still apply. I was twenty-five and stupid and didn’t think you were ready for marriage, so I left. I left you before you hurt me, and I ended up hurting both of us.”

  “I don’t believe that shit for a second.”

  He looks down at this hands that are now clasped on the table.

  “Here ya go,” the coffee guy puts the vanilla lattes down in front of us.

  “This isn’t for him,” I say as I swipe the coffee from Peter. “Peter, what you did to me changed everything. I can’t drive through Denver and have you fuck me back to where I was then.”

  “We were happy.”

  “Until we weren’t,” I reply.

  “You’re so hostile.” Peter smiles and takes my coffee, lifting it to his lips. “Ugh, what the fuck is that.”

  “It’s not yours either.” I smile despite myself.

  “Megan, you know you had fun these last few days. If you have a few more days I could try to make it up to you.” His smile could melt my panties years ago and today isn’t any different.

  “Stop.”

  “What? Trying to make things right between us?”

  “There’s no ‘us’ Peter. You made sure of that.” I grimace at the memory of him telling me he was moving to Denver the day after graduation.

  He puts his head in his hands and moans. “I know I messed everything up. I thought we’d have time…that we could do long distance. I didn’t know you would react the way you did.”

  “Oh, that I wouldn’t be devastated that my boyfriend of three years would tell me five days before he moved that he was moving over 1700 miles to get away from me.”

  “I didn’t move to get away from you,” he grumbled.

  “You didn’t think how that would change me and my life. You’re so fucking selfish. That decision you made impacted my entire career.” The words leave my mouth before I realize I feel them.

  His eyebrows shoot up, and he looks at me in surprise. The bells ring again, then promptly again as Laura walks back out and sits in the car. She makes hand motions she thinks I understand.

  “You blame your career decisions on me?”

  Too late to go back now. “I guess I do.” I take a gulp of my coffee.

  “You had a job lined up.” His eyes examine me and it makes me uncomfortable.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It matters to me,” he whispers.

  “I couldn’t be in the apartment, it reminded me of you. So I moved in with Lo. Then I realized I couldn’t be in New York because you weren’t there.”

  Peter blows out a breath and shakes his head. “I didn’t know.”

  “Of course you didn’t know,” I spit at him. “Do you think I wanted you to know I was so weak without you I left New York City, the one place I wanted to live my entire life. I left the best law firm in the city because I missed my boyfriend.” I run my hand through my hair, knowing I look like the shit I’m feeling right now. “Pathetic,” I murmur to myself.

  Peter shoots out of his seat and stalks to where I’m sitting. He pulls me from my seat and tugs me toward the door.

  “What the fuck?” I asked as I look around wildly.

  “We’re going back to my bed, right now.”

  I dig my heels in because I can’t go back. I cannot go back. “No.”

  “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  I put my hands on the frame of the door and hold on for dear life. He’s lifted my feet and my hands are the only thing keeping me in the store. We’re making a scene. “My breakfast,” I call as my hands lose their grip.

  Laura gets out of the car, her eyes wide. “What’s going on?”

  “I ordered breakfast, eat it and I’ll be right back. I promise,” I yell as Peter b
asically runs with me thrown over his shoulder.

  “She’s not going to be back for awhile, Laura,” Peter comments.

  “Peter.” I giggle even though I want to strangle him. “Put me down please. Let me go. You can’t change history and what’s done is done.”

  “If I put you down will you agree to go to my house with me? Just for a minute or sixty?”

  “If I’d known this would come up by seeing you, I wouldn’t have done it.” This is a lie. I would’ve done this because I can’t not do this. I can’t not love him. I want to, I just find it entirely impossible. It isn’t until just now I realize you can be utterly in love with someone and it doesn’t fucking matter.

  “Megan please, let me fix this,” he pleads as he sets me on my feet.

  “Peter, you can’t fix it. You can’t go back and fix my feelings after you left, you can’t mend what happened based on your decision. All you can do is learn from it and move on…you know.” I stare into his eyes, and for the first time, I don’t get lost in them.

  “Are you serious?” His face registers that he finally gets it, that I’m really leaving.

  I nod. I am serious. He ripped my heart out and it changed me. I’ll never be the person he fell in love with. I’m harder, meaner, more cynical, but it’s who I am and I own it.

  “I can’t fix us?” His voice is barely audible.

  I shake my head. I take a step backward, away from him. He looks at my feet. I take another step, and he doesn’t say anything else. Peter shoves his hands into his pockets.

  “Don’t,” he says, but he doesn’t mean it. His heart’s not in it.

  I take another step. If I go back to his bed with his hands and dick and tongue, it’ll be another three days before I come up for air.

  “I love you,” he says and it stops time.

  I clear my throat and a sad smile appears on my face. “You don’t love me Peter, you don’t even know me anymore.” I’m not sure that’s true. “Thank you for making my time in Denver fantastic. I hope you know that I loved you with everything I had.” My fucking voice cracks. “But I don’t have that anymore.” My hand rises in a wave as I take rapid steps backward and then turn making my way back to the restaurant to take comfort in my peanut butter pancakes, latte, and my best friend.