Page 73 of Rebound
I’ll see you when you get home.
She replies with an eye roll and thumbs up emoji. Even if we’re not snapping and snarking at each other, this is Tamara’s personality. I love it, I don’t want her to change. But she needs to take better care of herself right now. The upside is, she eats everything I cook and is very clear about her cravings and forbidden items. We’ve built a balance with her eating habits, at least. Now I just need to help her get on board with everything else.
I peek into the fridge and find enough for dinner, then go have a shower. When Tamara says twenty minutes, sometimes it means an hour. So I’m not surprised the apartment is empty when I’ve freshened up. With the windows open and all the fans running, I cook.
Once I’m done with our sandwiches, I store them in a container to retain the crispiness and heat, then order dessert. As much as I’d love to whip up chocolate chip cookies, I know there won’t be any time for it. With everything tucked into a large canvas tote bag, I head up to the terrace. After a run early one morning, I decided to climb the stairs to the top and back down a few times as a way to get my adrenaline pumping. I met one of Tamara’s neighbours and they showed me around the terrace.
Covering the entirety of the building, it’s a large open space. On one side is a garden someone in the building set up with vegetables and a few herbs. The rest of it is completely empty. Apparently the association has been trying to turn this into a hang out-slash-party space, but there haven’t been enough funds after all the maintenance work is done every year. So they’ve been putting it off.
I’m an overachiever, so I add it to my list of things to help out with at some point.
Today, however, I’m making the most of the empty terrace. While it’s still quite warm, Chennai is getting cooler. The temperature has dropped about five degrees and the humidity isn’t as stifling. Unlike a lot of Indian cities, the air pollution isn’t as bad here either, but it’s still not the best. I lay out a table cloth—we don’t have any picnic blankets—and set our food in the middle. Since we’re not drinking alcohol, I brought up flasks of cold water and spiced buttermilk?1 so my baby mama gets enough nutrients. I even brought up a wireless lamp just in case it gets too dark when we finish.
Drop your stuff off at home and come up to the terrace.
Lotus
Why?
Just trust me.
She replies with a GIF of someone sighing heavily and I chuckle. Setting my phone aside, I tilt my head up and stare at the stars until I hear the terrace door click open, then shut. I smile at her grumpy footsteps. She gasps and I look over my shoulder to find her staring at the spread.
“What is this?”
“Date night,” I say and gesture for her to join me. She looks perplexed, but toes off her shoes and kneels on the table cloth. “You said we can’t pick up where we left off at camp, so I figured a proper date might be a good place to start.”
“You did all this after you got home?”
I nod, pour out a glass of water and hand it to her. “I’m serious about doing this right, Tamara. The snark has been fun, but isn’t this better? We can try this on for size.”
Her face splits into a smile once she’s done drinking her water. “This is really nice, Trick.”
“I’m glad, Lo. Wooing you, proving that we’re doing the right thing…it’s important to me.”
“This is important to me too,” she says with a smile.
I don’t add that I’m falling back in love with her yet. We still need to work through everything else first. She finishes her water and looks at everything else I’ve brought upstairs, eyes widening when she sees the cookies.
“Did you bake those?”
“In twenty minutes? I’m a master chef, but that’s asking for a lot.”
She laughs and opens the container with our dinner. “Oh my god, you didn’t.”
“Whole wheat bread, bacon, lots of cheddar and pickles. Just for my baby mama.”
Tamara picks up one of the modified grilled cheese sandwiches and twists it around, eyes lighting up at how good it looks. I’ll admit this is my first time making a grilled cheese with anything other than ham, but the fact that it turned out so perfect makes me think I could do this more often. Her eyes meet mine as she takes a bite, then flutter shut as she moans. If I wasn’t prepared for the sound, my dick would be standing at attention right now. But every time she eats something I make, Tamara moans or groans or goes into a state of ecstasy and I’ve finally gotten used to it. Trust me, I’m still hard as a rock, but I’m not uncomfortable about it.
“This is so good, Trick,” she mumbles through a mouthful of sandwich.
“Another meal to add to your food list.”
Tamara rolls her eyes. “That list is overflowing. I feel like you should repeat stuff. Stop trying to make new things.”
“Are you not enjoying all of my experimenting?”
“I am! But why put yourself through all of this?”
