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There’s a list of things that they need to do before the baby comes.
Most of them are baby related, but one night as they are lying in bed, the air conditioner humming, Pam starts talking about the things that she’s always wanted to do.
“It’s not like we have the rest of our lives or anything,” Jim replied, rolling his eyes. But Pam knows that once the baby comes all of their time and energy and money will be poured into this tiny person, and she’s so excited, but there are things she meant to do, meant to see. She’s wanted to dip her toes into the Pacific for as long as she can remember, and she knows Jim will promise that one day he will take her, but she also knows that her father promised her mother one day and her mother is still waiting.
“I will take you there,” Jim promised again, pulling her to him and pressing a sloppy kiss to her mouth.
So it got added to the to-do list, in between get married and research colleges.
Number 34, in Jim’s sloppy handwriting, “See the Pacific.”
She starts working on the list during the slow, summer months while the cameras are gone. She’s started to look forward to summer the way she used to in school. A break from the usual, and the days of the summer stretch out before her full of mundane work days without Michael putting on a show for the cameras to catch. It's quiet, and lovely, and she looks forward to work. The break from filming is making keeping the baby a secret so much easier, and she’s so grateful.
They cross off “Get Married” one September day before she starts showing. The wedding is beautiful, and her make-up is ruined within the first forty five seconds of the ceremony when Jim slips his hand in hers and his smile is so broad that it threatens to break his face in half, and she starts crying immediately. Michael somehow finds a sombrero and leads everyone in a conga line around the reception hall, and Jim’s fingers dig into her hips as they dance to their first song as husband and wife.
They had agreed that they would take a small honeymoon to Cape May, New Jersey, somewhere close, but inexpensive. Pam is excited just for a few days of just her and Jim, and she tries not to think about the honeymoon they had been planning. Paris, Jim had promised her, they could spend a day getting lost in the Louvre and spend their night kissing on top of the Eiffel Tower. This was better, she thought, pressing a hand to her growing stomach, hidden under a beautiful white gown, and grinning widely.
Jim slipped an envelope into her hands as they left the reception, and her eyes widened at the two plane tickets to San Diego, California.
“Jim,” she breathed.
“It’s not Paris,” he shrugged, ducking his head. “But we were doing so well on the list I didn’t want to mess up our rhythm. See the Pacific is next. Maybe while we’re there we can take a drive and check out USC and UCLA and cross that off too. You know, multitask.” Pam threw herself into his arms and pressed a kiss to his lips.
“I love you, you know,” she said.
“I sure hope so,” Jim grinned. “Otherwise, today was a waste.”
When they get to the hotel, they drop off their bags in their room and hurry down to the beach, Jim makes her slow down and covers her eyes with his hands as they walk out into the bright, California sun. Pam feels the hot sand between her toes and she feels slightly silly to be this emotional, but tears prick her eyes and Jim presses a kiss to her temple. It’s dizzyingly beautiful, the sun bouncing off the sand and the water, and she breathes out, grabbing Jim’s hand and pulling him towards the shore.
Her toes touch the water, and she feels full and light and she closes her eyes and lets the sun warm her.
“I’m so glad we got here before the baby was born,” she says as she opens her eyes and glances at Jim. Her husband. God, she thinks, that will never get old.
“We won’t be like our parents,” Jim says suddenly. “We will get to Paris, even if it’s with three kids in tow. We will make them wander around the Louvre and they’ll love it, Pam. We don’t have to push our life to the side because of the baby. We’ll do all the things we said we’d do.” Pam nods, and then intertwines their fingers.
“Okay,” she agrees easily. “But let’s talk about this three kids thing. Can’t we get through the first one before you saddle me with two more?” But her voice is teasing and Jim picks her up and threatens to throw her into the ocean.
“Thank you,” she whispers as they lay in bed that night, sheets tangled around them, and the door to their balcony open and the sound of the waves playing soundtrack to their lovemaking. “For bringing me here.”
“Well,” Jim says lightly, “You put it on the list. I obey the list, Pam.”
“I should put more things on the list then,” Pam replies laughing against his shoulder. She leans over him, reaching into the hotel nightstand and pulling out stationary and a pen. She leans against the headboard, and Jim rests his head against her stomach.
“Number 36,” she adds. And she flips the paper around to show him.
“Be this happy forever,” it reads. And Jim leans up and presses a kiss to her lips.
“Done.”
Story Notes:
The song is by the Weepies. I was in the mood for a little Jim and Pam fluffy fluff. So here you are.
bashert is the author of 37 other stories.
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