by Andrea Thome
“Is everything OK, Mom? Are you guys still going to be able to come visit next month? I know it was impossible to be here with the opening of your center coming up next weekend. Hey, if the travel is stressing you out, don’t worry about it. You’ll get here when the timing is right.”
“Laina, your mom and I were wondering if you might be able to come home to California for the opening?” Laina smiled at the sound of her dad’s voice. “We realize it’s not ideal timing for you, with House of Belonging being so new, but it would mean so much to us if you could be here. There is something we’d like to discuss with you.”
Laina was chewing on the end of a pencil she’d been using to doodle with while they talked. “OK, now you’re scaring me. Can you tell me what you need to talk to me about? Are you guys OK? No one is sick, right?”
“No, honey, it’s nothing like that. Dad and I are fine. If you can’t make it, we understand. Just think about it and let us know in the next couple of days if you can make it work. Maybe Van could take over for you there? Daddy read me the local review online this morning; it sounds like you two still make a pretty great team, even after all these years. Are you sure there’s no hope for anything romantic between you? I sense something different in your energy field. There is love energy around you, Laina. Is it Van?”
Her cell phone chimed again, the excuse Laina needed to stop her mother’s intuition in its tracks. “Mom, that might be work. I have to run, but I’ll see what I can do to make it next week. I’ll let you know in a day or so. Love you both. So much.”
Laina exhaled, always unsettled that her mother was so plugged in to her. She wasn’t surprised; it had been like that her entire life. But it wasn’t always welcomed, and she’d learned how to pull back when she wasn’t ready to share something. She didn’t want to get her parents’ hopes up yet with talk of Logan. She needed to see how things were going to shake out first.
Remembering the chime, she turned her phone over to reveal the text. It was a selfie, taken by Van of himself and Logan at lunch. They were both giving her a thumbs-up.
Great. So much for keeping Van out of their business. She would have loved to have been a fly on the wall at Whitehouse Tavern at that very moment.
Laina: I’m warning you.
Van: What, I thought you’d like a picture of your two favorite guys?
Laina: You’re a rat.
Van: Love you too.
She switched over to her text thread with Logan.
Laina: Do not be fooled by the accent. He’s a predator.
Logan: lol. Don’t worry. A harmless lunch. Your name hasn’t even come up. And stop stalking me.
Laina laughed, and decided to let them be. Secretly, she was pleased that Van had come to think of Logan as a friend and not foe. They were so different, but also alike in certain ways. They were both guy’s guys, although it had always surprised Laina that Van didn’t maintain more close male friendships. Men gravitated toward him because he was so cool and easy to talk to, but he kept a wall up, probably because of his upbringing, which he rarely spoke about. As close as she was with Van, and after dozens of late-night conversations about some pretty deep stuff, his family still remained a bit of a mystery. Occasionally, she got snippets of information. He’d told her that he was one of three brothers, but in all the years she’d known Van, she’d never met his family.
And he never spoke about his father.
Laina had met Van a short time after he’d lost his mom to cancer. She knew his family had emigrated from Scotland to a farming community outside of Portland, Oregon, when Van and his brothers were young. Other than that, Van had managed to keep his past under wraps.
Laina was pleased that Logan had been the one who’d finally won Van over. In the two years she’d dated Patrick, Van had never been able to warm up to him. And he’d detested Patrick’s brother, Jeremy.
He wasn’t the only one.
Laina shuddered, trying to forget that she still hadn’t deleted his most recent text.
Jeremy: I need to see you.
She hadn’t known how to answer him. Sure, Jeremy would persist, but she couldn’t imagine being in the same room with him, and she was well aware that he intended for them to meet face-to-face. Laina couldn’t be sure, but she assumed he was still living in New York. She’d made it a point to avoid reading information about his band, which was getting harder and harder to do. In a cruel twist, they’d become even more popular since they’d split with Patrick last year. Laina felt sick when she thought about how Patrick had been so happy pouring his heart and soul into their songwriting. When he and Jeremy wrote together, it was electric. They made each other so much better. In some ways. But like Cain and Abel, ultimately, brother destroyed brother.
She hadn’t seen Jeremy since that night. How would it feel to be in front of him again, after they had both lost Patrick for good?
After all, in Jeremy’s mind at least—his brother’s death was their fault.
Laina rushed upstairs, wishing for a shower hot enough to wash away both the past and her morning run.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
Logan was at the point where he wondered if his hamstrings would ever recover. The yoga had been the catalyst, but almost a dozen hours in the saddle over the weekend had sealed the deal. He could feel his muscles barking as he stepped into a fresh pair of jeans one sore leg at a time. He was still trying to cool down from the hot shower he’d taken, so he left his shirt on the bed. He moved into the bathroom to grab his toothbrush and toothpaste, scrubbing his teeth as he made his way back toward the kitchen. He wanted the wine to be at just the right temperature when he opened it with Laina, but he didn’t have a wine fridge, so he’d stuck the cabernet that he’d settled on in the main refrigerator.
He was going by feel.
Logan figured if he let the wine get sufficiently cold, he could take it out a few minutes early, and it would be warmed up to the desired temperature by the time he drove to Laina’s.
He chewed on the toothbrush as he reached in to touch the bottle. Cold enough. He grabbed the wine and set it on the counter next to his stack of mail.
He’d gotten another letter from his mother that afternoon. Seeing it now, he was unsure why he’d left it in the pile, so he snatched it off the top and threw it into the drawer with the rest. He’d been doing that for months. What could she have to say to him that would change things? He didn’t wish her ill, but he’d decided he wasn’t interested in having a relationship with her either. It was too painful. Not answering his mother’s letters was the clearest way to get his feelings across, and the least hurtful way for him to move forward. He didn’t want to rehash it. He wasn’t trying to be cruel to her. But he didn’t want to look back. He was feeling too hopeful about the future. His mother had no place in it.
His phone lit up, a message from Van.
Van: Don’t mistake kindness for weakness.
Logan: From who? You?
Van: Funny. Just remember. Don’t fuck this up.
Logan: Roger that.
They’d had a great lunch that afternoon, although Logan had been surprised that Van had invited him in the first place. At first, Van had been friendly and the conversation casual, mostly about Food and Wine and how busy they’d each been. The waitress had just delivered their lunch when Van’s tone changed, becoming decidedly more serious.
“So, Logan. All kidding aside, what is your endgame with Laina? You and I both know this is a small town, and it’s not a secret that you’ve dated your way through a decent-size cross section of the women in it. I have a sense about you, though—I think that you might be smart enough to recognize that Laina is different. I care a lot about her. A lot. But I need to know what you’re thinking.”
Van studied Logan, noticing his consideration. “I’m not wrong about you, am I?”
Logan sat back in his chair, staring at him. “I recognize that she’s different, Van. I have from day one, but she’s finally jus
t agreed to give me a chance. Also, I’d bet that if you ask any of the women I’ve dated in this town, you’d be hard-pressed to find one that would tell you things ended badly between us. First of all, I never got in deep with anyone else. When I know it’s not right, I move on pretty quickly.”
Logan saw Van’s eyebrows shoot up and rushed to put his mind at ease. “Even though I’ve known Laina casually for a year, it’s early on, and we’ve agreed to take things slowly. But if I had to say today, I’d tell you that I have a pretty good feeling about where things are headed. I think Laina does too. This feels very real.”
Van knew himself to be a decent judge of character, and Logan’s answer confirmed it. Logan was under Laina’s spell. Van had recognized it before, most recently with Patrick, and with Jack Sterling prior to that. Logan had known pretty quickly that the relationship with Jack wouldn’t be long-term. Jack hadn’t been Laina’s emotional equal, and Van had silently predicted that the weatherman would be gone the minute the spotlight moved from Laina to the next media darling. Van had been pleasantly surprised, though, when Laina had been the one to end things, and he’d been proud of her for recognizing that she was worthy of more.
Patrick was another story. Van had liked him initially, but that ended when he discovered the substance-abuse problem. Patrick wasn’t a casual user, and he hated Van for being one of the few people who could see through the facade he’d carefully constructed. Patrick had been good at hiding his problem from most people, but Van saw him for what he really was. An addict. He’d experienced it with his father, and he knew the kind of destruction dependency could wreak on important relationships.
Logan was the first person Laina had chosen who Van knew was different enough from her but still complex enough to challenge everything she thought she knew about being in a relationship. There was a time when Van wondered if he and Laina could have found a way to conjure up some of the sexual chemistry that had been missing between them, but he quickly reverted to accepting that Laina was the sister he’d always wanted and never had. It’s why he’d felt it necessary for his radar to be spot-on when it came to Logan.
“Good. That’s enough for me. I trust Laina’s judgment, for the most part, but she’s a little vulnerable right now.” He paused. “I’ll let her share that with you when she’s ready, though.”
Logan could feel that he shouldn’t pry any further. They’d enjoyed the rest of their lunch together, switching back to casual conversation about hiking and fishing and some of their other mutual passions.
It was shortly before ten when Logan had finally cooled down enough to throw a shirt on, checking to make sure he had his keys before he grabbed the wine from his counter on the way out the door. This was one evening he wasn’t going to be late for.
Laina knew that the drive from Logan’s house to hers would take him no more than ten or fifteen minutes. She’d texted him earlier to tell him to meet her around ten, which meant she only had a few minutes to change out of her work clothes. Probably less, since she’d just come from town herself and knew that it was a pretty quiet night, with all the Food and Wine folks having wrapped up their events earlier that day. Laina was happy to have her sleepy mountain town back, at least for the short-term, until the Ideas Festival at the Aspen Institute kicked off at the end of the month.
She peeled herself out of her black jeans, reaching into her closet for a white pair. She’d been thinking about her outfit during dinner service, deciding that she’d change it up for once. She didn’t wear a lot of color, so even the starkness of the white felt like she was making an effort. She’d been a bit chilly on her drive home, so she paired the jeans with a soft heather-gray sweater that slouched off one shoulder.
She heard a car coming, so she switched off her bedroom lamp and peered out one of her front windows. She could see Logan’s Bronco pulling into her driveway. She watched as he got out of the driver’s side, a bottle of wine tucked under his arm and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. She smiled when he paused to check his reflection in the window, running his free hand through his hair before turning to head for the porch. He wasn’t the least bit vain, and Laina took the self-conscious gesture to mean he was aiming to impress her, which gave her a little thrill.
She scrambled down the stairs, getting to the front door just as Logan did. She opened it, struck again by how gorgeous he was. He’d shaved, and his skin was the smoothest she’d ever seen it. He usually wore at least a shadow of whiskers, but Laina wasn’t complaining.
His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled and stared back at her. “Are you going to invite me in, or are we just going to stand here and gawk at each other?”
Laina laughed, stepping aside to make way for him, accepting the flowers that Logan held out to her. “Wow. I don’t remember the last time someone brought me flowers. In fact, you might be the first.” She motioned for him to follow her back into the kitchen in search of something to put them in.
Logan found that hard to believe. “No way. You’re just trying to make me feel good. I’m not buying your lonely-spinster routine.” He set the bottle of wine down between them on the counter as Laina arranged the wildflower bouquet in a large mason jar. Logan was dying to know if he’d passed her test.
“So, I guess this is it. I thought long and hard about what kind of wine you might like. Took a few different things into consideration. First of all, you’re mysterious. You’re a chef, so your favorite would likely be a wine that is more mature, not some young upstart. And you love the color black; although I see you’ve thrown me a curveball with your outfit tonight. Not that I’m complaining. This good-girl vibe really works on you.”
She was laughing as she reached over to rotate the wine bottle so she could read the label. She was impressed, wondering if he’d asked Van for help after all. “First of all, thank you for the compliment. I’m trying to branch out into some other neutrals.” Picking up the wine, she studied it for a moment. “A bold selection—well played. It’s actually one of my all-time favorites, so obviously you figured out that I’m a red wine person. Did Van help you?”
Logan feigned offense. “I did this all on my own. A feeling I had. Can I pour you a glass?” He gestured toward the chickenwire-fronted cabinet that held her dishes before reaching in to pluck two wineglasses from the top shelf. “Where’s the corkscrew?”
Laina was reaching into the fridge to pull out the snack plate she’d put together for them earlier. “It’s in the top drawer to your left.”
Logan pulled it open, his attention caught by a newspaper clipping that sat on top of the scissors, pens, and other household objects housed there. He couldn’t help but notice the headline and byline.
ROCKER’S DEATH APPARENT SUICIDE
Top chef’s former lover found dead by bandmate brother
Laina was turning around with a plate in her hand when she saw Logan standing there, looking down at something in the open drawer. Remembering what she’d stashed there, she felt sick. “Sorry. It’s one drawer over from that. Here, I’ll get it.” She set the plate down, rushing over to get the corkscrew herself, but it was too late.
Logan closed the drawer, the instant tension making it obvious that they couldn’t avoid talking about what he’d just seen. “Laina, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t trying to pry.”
Laina was standing next to him, the forgotten corkscrew in her hand. She closed her eyes for a moment to collect herself before looking at him with a sad smile. “It’s not something I wanted to lead with, but I wasn’t trying to hide it either. My ex-boyfriend’s brother recently sent me this article. We broke up last summer, before I moved to Aspen, and I’d been out of touch with them both for over a year. Until the article and his letter arrived.”
Logan could see that the information was still painful for her. “Listen, you don’t have to tell me any of this. Not if you don’t want to. But I’m a pretty good ear if you need one, and an excellent shoulder, if I do say so myself.”
He took t
he corkscrew from her hand, making quick work of the wine bottle. Logan poured two glasses, handing one to Laina, before leaning in toward her to tenderly brush his lips against hers.
“Let’s go sit on the porch for a while. We can talk—or not talk. It’s up to you.”
They settled together on her swing, close to each other but not touching, their feet pushing the swing back and forth slowly in tandem. It was dark since Laina switched off the porch light on their way out. She didn’t want Logan to see her while she remembered her time with Patrick and shared painful parts of the story with him.
They’d met at the Music City Food and Wine Festival in Nashville. It wasn’t Laina’s first time at the event, but that year she wasn’t cooking for the public. She’d been hired to cook plant-based food for musicians that wanted the option. There were several bands that played the event, with that year’s music curated by Nashville’s own Kings of Leon. She’d had her arms full with a pan of beautifully stuffed squash halves and was trying to figure out a way to open the door to the greenroom when she heard his voice for the first time.
“Here, allow me.” Laina noticed his sleeve of tattoos first as he reached in front of her for the door, pushing it open. His entire forearm was covered in inked pine trees, from the wrist up. It was a stunning piece of art. He waited for her to step into the room ahead of him while he held the door.
“So you’re the one who’s been making all the incredible vegan food? This is the best we’ve eaten at any venue. Ever. Us plant-based guys usually get stuck with spaghetti and marinara. Not the creative stuff you’ve been making us. So, thank you. Are you local? Could I persuade you to move to New York City with us?”