by Lane Martin
I nodded my confirmation, and Logan answered for us, “We’re sure.” I knew it was my baby and my decision, but I wanted to include the man who held my hair back when I puked and got up to make me blueberry cream cheese stuffed French toast after only being asleep two hours because I had a craving. This baby may not have been Logan’s by blood, but it was his by choice, and in my book, that made him even more special than he already was. Logan kissed my sister on the cheek, “I better get over the Swayed. Tonight is going to be crazy.” I was going in later. He then turned his attention to me before leaving. Public displays of affection weren’t my thing in the past, but with Logan, I’d take his lips on mine any day, any place, anytime I could get them.
“Get a room.” Emily teased. I mean give me a break, it was Valentine’s Day, and love was in the air. Logan slipped away from me. Yeah, we both looked like a couple of lovesick fools, commercial holiday or not.
“Take care of my girls M.” The goodbye was so sweet I didn’t have the heart to tease him the baby was a boy. Emily and I watched Logan in silence until he disappeared into the crowd.
“We better get going if we are going to make this appointment on time.” Emily was right.
“Yep,” was my simple reply.
“Are you sure you want to do this without Logan?” I wasn’t a crier. OK, I wasn’t a crier, before. I’d like to blame the baby, but this time it would be a lie.
“I don’t want to do anything without him. That’s the problem M.” I didn’t know when it happened. Hell, I didn’t know how it happened. I was okay with having my baby on my own. I didn’t want or need Edward, that was for sure. But, Logan was a different story altogether. But this, this not knowing could hurt him, and that was the last thing I wanted. I also needed to protect my child. Our child if he wanted what I did.
The office wasn’t anything like I’d expected. I’d always thought law offices were supposed to be all dark mahogany wood and burgundy leather like you see on television. This one looked more like something you would see in an Ikea showroom with its clean lines and bright colors. And Sheldon Bannon, Esquire wasn’t the old geezer I’d imagined he would be either. Aren’t lawyers supposed to be old and wear ugly suits?
“You must be Libby.” I guessed it was obvious since I was the size of a whale. He was cute and must’ve registered the look of surprise in both mine and Emily’s eyes. “You, I imagine are her twin sister, and yes, I’m old enough to be a lawyer.” A giggle escaped me. I didn’t fucking giggle. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up. Nice arms, but they weren’t covered in tattoos like Logan’s. “Please have a seat.” He earned points for pretending my sister, and I weren’t ogling him like he was the captain of the football team, and he just sat at our table in the lunchroom. “And you are?”
“I’m her sister Emily.” Duh. He smiled, and it was like one of those infomercials. You know the ones. Something about his million-dollar smile reminded me he was charging me by the hour. I may have had champagne taste, but I was on a beer budget, so it was time to cut to the chase.
“I had some questions about parental rights.” Sheldon, as he asked we call him, explained that a father’s rights could not be terminated before a baby was born. Basically, without a baby, the father had no rights, so the child had to be born before anything could be changed. Sheldon also advised me against putting Logan’s name on the birth certificate instead of Edward’s because it could be considered fraud. Going to jail or risking my baby being taken from me because I lied wasn’t an option. It crossed my mind to leave the father information blank, but wouldn’t that hurt Logan more than seeing Edward’s name? Leaving it blank implied he or she didn’t have a father, she did, it just wasn’t who I wanted it to be. Logan has loved this baby from the start. If that wasn’t a father, what was? I left the office feeling frustrated. Sheldon suggested I put the biological father on the birth certificate in case I needed support. The idea of Edward having anything to do with my baby made me sick.
Emily hugged me tightly once we left the office. “It will all work out.” How could she still be so optimistic? The man she loved told her he loved her in a letter and left. That was two months ago. Sometimes I wished I could be more like my twin. To me, this just seemed like another thing to add to a long list of screws ups I’d made. I was having a baby, and I’d met a wonderful man, but wait there was more because he wasn’t the baby daddy and the guy who was, well he was a piece of crap. Welcome to my shit show.
The appointment took longer than I thought it would and I needed some retail therapy with Emily once it was over. I still wasn’t much of a shopper, but shopping for Logan made it bearable. I felt a little better, but now I needed to rush back to the apartment to shower and change for work, plus I had a few surprises up my sleeve for my guy. We agreed we weren't going to do anything for Valentine’s Day, but for once in my life, I had a man I wanted to make feel as special as he made me feel. He did so much for me and never complained or asked for anything in return. He deserved this. I rushed into the apartment and put down the bags deciding I needed to do something with the pile of mail that had accumulated on the kitchen counter. The guys in the kitchen would never let Logan hear the end of it if they spotted this mess. I picked up the pile and opened the junk drawer with the intention of sliding the mail inside. I’d never even looked at it, it was all Logan’s. One envelope fell from the stack. After putting the rest in the drawer, I bent to retrieve the stray envelope, and the back caught my eye. Along the top center it read:
New York State
Department of Corrections and Community Supervision
Offender Correspondence
Name: Chris Wheeler DIN: 6824807
What the actual fuck? I nearly fell on my ass when I flipped it over and noticed it was explicitly addressed to Logan Wheeler with the return address of:
Scribner Correctional Facility
P.O. Box 1425
Elmhurst, N.Y. 10507-2499
Name: Chris Wheeler DIN: 6824807
Holy shit! I guess I knew the reason Logan never talked about his family. It made me wonder if I’d even known the man I had fallen hopelessly in love with, the one I’d wanted to be my baby’s daddy. It turned out; I still sucked at picking men. My list of failures was longer than Santa’s naughty and nice list combined.
I found myself thinking about her less and less all the time. I was sure it had to do with a hot little mamma that not only occupied my bed but also my mind most of the time. But today would always be a day she was on my mind, right along with the day I met said, hot mamma. Funny, how with Libby, those two dates going forward would be forever changed. Everybody who knew me thought I hated Valentine’s Day because it was one of the hardest days of the year in the restaurant business. Me, I welcomed the busy day. No, I disliked it because she’d loved it so much. Christmas was never big, I mean sure, we had our traditions, but we really couldn’t afford gifts. Love day, as she’d liked to call it, was a different story. She always declared it didn’t cost anything and we were blessed with an unlimited supply of love to give. I’d never understood how she felt that way. She had loved, and it had cost her everything. I’d never thought it was worth the risk, until now.
Hot water cascaded down my body. Usually, the combination of the water, the heat, and the sound of the spray hitting me would have relaxed me. Not so much today. Everything had been going perfectly. Emily was happily distracted by the sealed envelope she carried in her purse that would reveal the gender of her first niece or nephew, instead of by thoughts of her missing love, Declan. After my appointment with the lawyer, I knew what I needed to do regarding Edward and his parental rights and how to best protect my child from him. I had something special planned for Logan. We had promised not to do anything for Valentine’s Day, but technically by the time we got home it would be the fifteenth, so I wasn’t breaking any promises I made to him. Could he say the same? In my mind, an omission was just as bad as a lie.
I
tilted my head back; if only I could wash away what I had just seen, like the suds, I rinsed off my body. “Do you really even know this guy?” I asked myself out loud; my baby kicked in response. I splayed my hands across my expanding waistline, “Was that a yes or a no?” I couldn’t help but laugh when my child kicked again. “Some help you are.” Until thirty minutes ago, I was convinced I knew everything I needed to know about the man who had barged into my doctor’s office visit and life, now, not so much. What did I really know? Besides the fact that he made the best breakfast for dinner, played guitar, and sang silly songs he made up because it was helpful to fetal development, which in turn made me laugh so hard I almost peed my pants. That just the sound of his voice or the tilt of his chin could make me wet, and don’t even get me started on his ink. The man lived without regret, hell he even had the moto inked on his arm.
Chris Wheeler. I turned off the water and nearly tore the bar from the wall when I yanked on my towel. I wrapped the terry cloth around my body and wiped away the fog from the mirror with my hand. My angry red skin looked back at me as I leaned forward. “Get a grip Libby, Chris Wheeler could be anyone,” I reasoned. Male or female, I didn’t know. I guess I could have easily looked up Scribner Correctional Facility. 6-8-2-4-8-0-7. It wasn’t just a number. It was a person, and that person could have been a wife, brother, or cousin. Hell, maybe even an aunt, uncle, or parent. Chris Wheeler could have been anyone. It didn’t bother me Logan knew someone who was locked up. The relation didn’t matter. Okay, that’s not true. A wife would have mattered a whole hell of a lot. What mattered was he didn’t tell me. He knew everything about me; the name of my first-grade teacher, where I was on 9/11 when I lost my virginity. He even knew about the baby I decided not to have. Telling him hadn’t been easy, and he knew it. He kissed every inch of me, including the sunflower tattoo on my ankle. “What does this one represent?” People asked me all the time. I never cried. Maybe because you told them it was for sunshine and happiness. I couldn’t feed that crap to Logan, so I told him the truth, and he held me in his strong arms as I cried for the baby I would never know, the baby who would live forever in my heart. He could have told me about Chris then. Maybe shared something about himself, but he didn’t. “No, he held you when you cried and when you finally stopped he kissed your belly and told this baby how lucky she was to have you as a mother.” Fresh tears rolled down both my cheeks as I remembered that night. It was the night I decided I loved him, and the night I dared to dream he would be a father to my baby. “Get your shit together Libby, baby needs a new pair of shoes.” Another kick reminded me just how true that statement was.
“How’s it going?” I asked Travis, a bartender I’d hired, as I tied an apron around my waist.
Travis looked at his watch, “Aren’t you going to be working in the office until my break?” Logan didn’t like me on my feet for my entire shift, so he made me hire two new barkeeps and had me spending time in his “boom room” doing the orders and crunching numbers. Before tonight, I’d thought it was a sweet, although unneeded gesture, now I found myself questioning everything Logan did or said. I looked around the packed restaurant.
“Looks like you could use the help.” I didn’t bother to tell Travis I had been a chicken shit and completely bypassed the kitchen when I’d arrived. I wasn’t ready to see Logan. Not now, maybe not ever. I never stopped, not even when Darcy brought out my favorite sandwich from the kitchen. It wasn’t on the menu. Obviously, Logan knew I was there.
“Are you going to eat that?” The man sitting next to the pass eyed the golden deliciousness that sat untouched on the plate. If I’d stopped to eat, it meant I had time to think, and thinking was the last thing I wanted to do right now. I felt sorry for the guy out alone on a day you are supposed to spend with those you love.
I shrugged, “Have at it,” before sliding the plate in his direction. I knew from experience, and the evil scale I’d had to stand on earlier today, that the perfectly toasted bread was seasoned with herbed rosemary butter. Between the slices of crispy goodness were a trio of gooey meltiness; Gruyere, Munster, and white cheddar. Onions caramelized until they melted in your mouth and as if that wasn’t enough, bacon. Need I say more? I had to wipe my mouth. The lucky lonely guy moaned and closed his eyes in pleasure. Yeah, it was that good.
“Oh my God. How could you give that up?” For a second I wondered if my customer was talking about Logan or the sandwich. It hurt my heart to think about either, but I knew what I had to do.
I looked at the back of the restaurant and noticed Logan watching me from the kitchen. “It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” You will not cry, Libby Barnes.
“Why do I get the feeling we aren’t talking about the sandwich anymore?” Obviously, my bar side manner needed work. I was the one that should have been asking the questions.
“Can I get you anything else?” My smile was fake, and the kind man knew it. Thankfully he decided to show mercy to me.
“Just the bill.” Besides the sandwich, the gentleman had surprised me by ordering the special drink I created for the night. It wasn’t very manly, but it was delicious and sexy as hell. Surely not what I would have thought a man out by himself on a night known for romance would have ordered, but he did seem to enjoy it. I had been inspired when Logan asked me to create something special for the night. Logan and I did extensive research on aphrodisiacs; it was the first time I’d ever enjoyed homework. The Soulmate as I called it, was a mix of crème de cocoa blanc, pomegranate liqueur, honey, strawberry puree, and lemon juice topped with sparkling wine and a few drops of olive oil. Emily, Nat, Willow, and Suzie were more than happy to volunteer to be taste testers. I felt bad sending Willow home alone after I filled her full of my love potion, but she assured me she had batteries and a video call planned with her husband, Dillon. That reminds me; add batteries to your list. I placed the tab for just the drink, since I gave him the sandwich, on the bar top as the gentleman pulled out a hundred dollar bill from his wallet. I turned to get his change when he told me to “keep the change.”
It wasn’t the first time I had received a generous tip but, “I can’t possibly.”
“You can just do one thing for me.” Oh shit, I didn’t think I had given the guy the wrong idea. Hell, I didn’t flirt at all. I couldn’t. It was taking everything I had in me to even make drinks in the same building as Logan tonight.
“What’s that?” My hand rested on my stomach lovingly over my unborn child as I took a step back from the bar. Surely, he wouldn’t proposition a mother to be. Would he?
He looked over his shoulder. Logan was still watching and from the way he stood; head up, back straight, and face hardened, we were only minutes away from him charging out of his kitchen. I hadn’t noticed before, but he was worrying the one-year chip he left on his nightstand every night in his hand. I had asked Logan about it once. He wasn’t a recovering alcoholic; he didn’t give me any details other than to say the medallion belonged to someone he once cared about. Maybe it belonged to Chris Wheeler. I didn’t think Logan even realized half the time when he got it out. I had come to think of it as his fidget spinner. “Tell the chef that was the best, grilled cheese I’ve ever had.”
I finally let out a breath when he stood to leave, “I can do that.” Logan still stood sentry at the kitchen door. The customer turned to see what had my attention.
“One more thing. Give the guy a chance to make it right.” The baby kicked. Was that in agreement? Sadly, that was something I couldn’t promise.
Travis closed for the night, so I returned to Logan’s apartment before he did. I vacillated on what to do. Should I just pack up my things and go back to Emily’s place? Logan’s apartment had already changed in the short time I’d been here. I’d been other places much longer, and they never felt like home, not like this place already did. Sonogram pictures now hung with magnets of places we had visited together on the once bare refrigerator along with a notepad with things to buy on our next trip to t
he store. His, hers, ours, it didn’t matter, if we needed it, it went on the list. A new tube of the only toothpaste I had found that didn’t make me gag and a bottle of particular “EVOO” was currently scrawled in letters in his messy handwriting. I opened the door with a sigh. The shelves no longer resembled those of a bachelor who never ate at home. “Why?” I questioned the empty space. I didn’t know if I was mad at myself or Logan. I should have known it was too good to be true. He was no different than the men who came before him. Only he was. Pillows now decorated the sofa, and my pictures had been added to his single framed photo, along with two of us together, one from our first “family meal” at the restaurant after we came out as a couple. Darcy snapped it when Logan pulled me into his lap. We both look ridiculous because were laughing so hard, but every single time I looked at it, I couldn’t help but smile. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d ever feel that happy again. Dang tears.
“What’s going on Libby?” I had been so entranced I didn’t even hear him come in. He put his arms around me from behind, and I couldn’t help but sink into his embrace. It may have been the last time I would ever feel his arms around. Give the guy a chance. Could I? The future wasn’t only about me. I had a baby to consider. I looked at the bookshelves. Baby books now joined his cookbooks. “You’re scaring the shit out of me sweetheart.”