by J. L. Berg
But I still hadn’t mustered the courage to look at myself in the mirror. The only reason I was doing so now was the man currently standing in my family room. When he looked at me, what did he see? I don’t think I had thought about it up until this moment, but when a man looked at me now, what did he see?
Did he see a tired, single mother? A widow? Or just a woman?
I leaned into the mirror, turning my cheek to the light. I can't quite explain what I was looking for, and it wasn’t any attempt at vanity. I wasn’t on the hunt for wrinkles or laugh lines. I think I was trying to see if, after Ethan’s death and all the grief that came with it, there was any of the old me left.
Yes, I knew I was pretty. I was self-confident enough to admit it, but I spent the majority of my adult life with one man, and when you're with the right man, after a while, every other man disappeared. Yes, I noticed them, in that I knew they existed, but no one could hold a candle to what I saw in Ethan.
I knew he felt the same. I’d see his eyes melt when I entered a room. I watch them flame in heat when we shared a bed, and felt them warm when he said “I love you”.
When Logan looked at me, did he see me in a similar way? Did he find me sexy?
Could I do sexy anymore? Wow, I was lame. Twenty-eight and I was asking myself if I could still be sexy. I used to be able to drive Ethan insane with a single arched brow.
"Shit, Leah is right. I do need to get out,” I said to no one, again.
Whatever it was, whatever I used to have that made Ethan go crazy...I needed that back.
Even if I didn’t use it. Even if it was just for me. I felt like I’d lost a part of me, the part that made me feel like a woman, and I needed it back to feel whole again.
~Logan~
"Did you grow up here?" I asked Clare, trying to keep my mind and my eyes occupied.
We had been in Maddie’s room for a few minutes now, moving furniture and pulling out the supplies that she had bought. Maddie’s room was exactly like the girl who lived in it - adorable. The walls were cotton candy pink with ballerina posters and family photos scattered everywhere. The quilt on her small bed was a life sized ballerina with an actual tulle tutu peeking out from the fabric. There were pointe shoes hanging next to the dresser and stuffed animals piled high in the corner next to a giant pink bean bag. It was a little girl’s paradise, and somehow I knew that Clare had spent hours picking out every detail in this room, making sure it was special and unique for Maddie.
Clare set Maddie up downstairs with a movie and a snack and told her the ballet barre would be even better if it was a surprise. Maddie had happily agreed, settling into the family room with a bowl of popcorn and some entertainment. Clare had changed into a pair of tight fitting yoga pants and a long sleeved V-necked shirt. Every time she bent down to pick up another toy, I had to look the other way to keep myself from sneaking glances down her shirt, or checking out her ass. She had a really nice ass.
I said I was trying. I didn’t say it was always successful. I am a guy after all.
"Yeah, my parents still live in the same house I grew up in a few miles away. I like this area of Richmond. It’s far enough away that we still have that small town vibe, but close enough that I can take Maddie downtown for the circus or a Broadway show when they come to town," she said, moving about the room with a familiar grace.
"How about you?" she asked. “I know you didn’t grow up here. But I don't know much beyond the last name. I mean, I know who you are. Leah told me that much, but I don't keep up much with gossip."
Ever since the divorce and the newspapers splashed my name everywhere, there were very few people who didn’t know my scandalous history. My father was known for his pristine reputation, and I’d sullied it. The papers had a field day.
"No, it's a relief. It makes introductions quite awkward when the person you’re meeting thinks they know more about you than you do yourself."
"Well then, why don't you tell me?" she suggested, with sincerity in her eyes.
Dear lord, what could I tell her that wouldn't scare her away?
Basics. I’d go with that.
"Well, I'm from the East Coast, New York mainly. Although I have lived in several other places while I was in boarding school. My father, well, gossip or no, I’m sure you know who my father is." Everyone knew who my father was. I hated talking about him. I hated talking about my family in general.
"I went to Yale for my undergraduate, then Harvard for medical school. I moved back to New York, where I finished my residency and began my career there. I, uh, got divorced and moved here about three years ago.”
That was the edited version of the story.
Continuing to measure the walls, I marked off where I needed to drill, and noticed a silence sweeping through the room. With my back turned, I could only imagine what she was thinking. I finished my markings and turned, looking up, and wondered what I said to make her so quiet. Had I scared her off already? Should I care this much if I did?
"Wow, that was a lovely resume you just told me, but how about we just cut the shit and get to some good stuff? I want to know the real you," she said smiling, offering up the challenge.
Shit, I'm in so much trouble
~Clare~
“Well. It's not like you've given me much in return,” he fired back, with a devilish grin.
He seemed astonished at first by my bold words. He wasn't the only one. I was still wondering what the hell had possessed me to demand he tell me more. He had just made me so angry. When he had been so relieved, saying that most people knew him before even meeting him, I thought maybe I would get the real Logan, something genuine. But all I got were generic resume facts about his life that anyone could find on Google. I felt a connection in that moment when he admitted something about the pressure of his life. I thought he had too, but then he had gone back to being the polished man he’d probably been raised to be. So out came my bold words and here we were.
“So, what do you have planned exactly? What do you want to know?” he asked, looking over his shoulder as he continued to work on the wall. Oh thank God he was doing this. It didn’t look too difficult, but I was pretty sure I would have already made several holes in the sheetrock.
I don’t know why but I wanted to know him, what was underneath that formal exterior. Seeing him again had solidified the connection I felt in that exam room and I knew he felt it too. But, he was pushing against it, and I didn’t know why. There was something in his past that kept him distant and I wanted to know what he was hiding under that well-formed exterior.
A plan emerged in my mind.
“Hold on, I'll be right back.” Smiling, I walked past him and headed for the kitchen. I couldn’t help but giggle when I saw his look of confusion as I walked past and exited the room.
When I returned, I held up two plastic bags in triumph.
“Jelly beans? You do know we're adults right?” he mocked.
“You may be, but I’m still deciding. Besides, one is never too old for candy. And these aren't just any jelly beans, these are Jelly Bellys. They're like candy crack.”
“Okay, so you've brought in a ton of sugar, and I’m supposed to bare my soul to you now?” he asked, amusement lighting up his face.
“Did you ever play that game in college where someone would ask a question, and if you didn't want to answer it, you had to take a shot?” I asked.
He nodded, grinning.
“Well, since it's the afternoon, and I'm a Mom and responsible and stuff, we’re going to do the jelly bean version. I'll ask a question, and you can choose to answer it, or not. If you decline, you have to eat a handful of jelly beans. The same goes for me with a question from you.”
He still looked confused.
“And why is eating a handful of jelly beans punishment?” he asked, looking at the two bags I was pouring into a clear glass bowl.
“Ah, well see...if you pass on too many questions, you'll get sick. So see, it's just like the original gam
e, only we're subbing sugar for the alcohol.”
This earned me a laugh.
“How many handfuls do you think it takes to get sick?” he questioned.
“I think we’ll just have to risk it, and find out.”
“You’re kind of evil,” he teased, leaning across the floor to grab a bracket looking thing to screw into the wall. His shirt lifted from the movement, and caught myself biting my lip in response. The infomercial “Abs of Steel” flashed in my memory as I tried not to drool.
“You don’t know the half of it.” I said.
Flirting. Well, at least I could still do that.
~Logan~
"I can ask you anything?" I said, glancing toward Clare as she settled into a pink bean bag chair on the floor with the massive bowl of jelly beans wedged in her lap. She clearly had given up on helping, which I was very grateful for. Seeing her whirl around a hammer was a scary sight. I'm all for gender equality, but Maddie was right, she was definitely missing the home improvement gene.
She nodded, then smiled with confidence. "Yep, anything. Ask away."
"All right. What's your favorite color?" I quickly asked before turning back to the wall to check the progress of the brackets I’d just drilled. Total silence filled the air again.
Shit, what did I do this time?
"Seriously? You suck at this game!" I heard her say, before turning back around to get a jelly bean tossed at my head.
“Green, try again."
"Wait, green what?" I was totally confused. I'd known this woman for all of three seconds and she had told me I suck and was chucking jelly beans at my head. I didn’t know whether to laugh, or worry that my ego is going to be irreversibly damaged.
"My favorite color. It's green," she clarified.
“Ah, I should have known. It matches your eyes."
Looking stunned, a beautiful blush crept up her face before she composed herself and continued.
"Okay, try again."
"Are you close to your family?" After seeing all the pictures on the mantel in her family room, I knew the answer to this question, but I wanted to see her face light up when she spoke.
"Yes, my family is wonderful. Like I said, my Mom and Dad live nearby, which is a blessing because they help with Maddie quite a bit,” she explained as she fiddled with the jelly beans in the bowl. "My Dad had a stroke about 5 years ago. He recovered well, but is unable to help with these kinds of things anymore, which is why I was out braving the hardware store myself this morning."
"Brave woman."
“More like stupid woman, but at least I found you.” she said before continuing. "I have a younger brother, Garrett. He recently graduated from college and started working. He's spending most of his time on the road and loving every minute of it. We catch up when he's in town, but he's young and trying to move up in the professional world. Seeing him so grown up blows my mind on a daily basis." She laughed and it was the kind of laugh that seemed to have a memory attached to it. It must have been a happy memory because the small smile she had now lit up her entire face.
I had no idea what it was like to have a family that brought that kind of smile to your face, let alone any kind of smile. My family was all about appearance and how much you could gain from each other. As soon as you made a mistake, you were shunned and an outcast. Ever since my divorce, when I finally realized I’d never make the man proud, I stopped caring what my father thought.
"So, what about you? What's your family like?" she asked as I finished drilling the last hole of the bracket securing Maddie’s barre into place.
"Pass me those jelly beans."
~Clare~
"Okay, so no family questions," I said, raising my hands in defeat as he began stuffing a hand full of jelly beans in his mouth all at the same time.
"Now that is just wrong. You just committed the ultimate Jelly Belly sin.”
He looked at me, his mouth full of candy, like I was crazy.
"You're supposed to eat them one at a time, unless you're creating a combo."
"A combo? What is a jelly bean combo?"
"Seriously, what rock did you grow up under? I thought every child knew a few Jelly Belly combos."
I motioned for him to come closer and he complied, putting down his tools and taking a seat next to me on the floor. Seeing all six plus feet of full grown male, wrapped in faded jeans and gray t-shirt, sitting on my daughters pink rug was quite a sight.
"Prepare to be amazed. What's your favorite dessert?" I asked him.
"Besides jelly beans?" he asked jokingly.
I nodded, giving him a pointed look.
"Okay, fine. Root Beer Float." he answered.
"And you gave me crap for liking jelly beans? Who's the kid now?"
"Well, root beer and ice cream weren’t allowed in our house or boarding school. The desserts we had were so pretentious, I'm pretty sure I couldn't pronounce them until I was in my teens," he explained in an amused sort of way, but there was a shadow of something dark there. Before I could figure out what it was, it was gone and replaced by his award winning smile.
"Okay, well...root beer float coming up."
I dug through the bowl, looking for the jelly beans I needed. He watched skeptically, but leaned in closer, brushing his shoulder against mine. I could smell the aftershave on his neck, and I wanted so badly to pull him closer to me.
"You're very dedicated to jelly beans, aren't you?"
"You have no idea. Just wait until you see me with chocolate." That brought on another laugh. He had a great laugh.
I finally found the winning combination of jelly beans and handed them over for him to try. He popped the three jelly beans in his mouth and chewed, and I became mesmerized with his mouth, suddenly wondering what he tasted like.
Yum.
"That’s actually pretty amazing! It really does taste like a root beer float. What's your favorite?" he asked as he finished off his jelly beans, pulling me out of my edible Logan fantasy.
"Oh. Um. Tiramisu,” I answered quickly. “Chocolate and Coffee. It’s heavenly.”
Realizing I completely derailed out little game, I asked another question.
“So, how did a son of a stuffy billionaire learn to be so handy?”
He looked down at his hands, much too worn for his social status, and explained, “I don’t know. I guess I’ve always liked to work with my hands. When I was in college, I lived in a shit apartment, and was always having to make repairs, so I kind of just learned on the go.”
I was curious why a rich kid was living in the low rent apartments, but before I could ask, he gave me a smirk and fired back with a question for me.
“The other day, when I walked into the exam room, were you and your friend talking about me?”
Damn fair skin always gave me away. Before I could even open my mouth to respond, I was blushing, so instead I just stuffed it full of jelly beans, bypassing the entire question and committing candy treason at the same time.
“I knew it!”
“That was incredibly embarrassing,” I admitted, after I swallowed my handful of jelly beans.
“I can safely say I was not embarrassed in the least. Made my night, in fact,” he taunted.
“All right, it’s my turn again.”
In agreement, he nodded and waited for his question.
"When you're alone, away from the hospital and everything else, what do you do for yourself?" I asked. I hoped this question wouldn’t be bypassed with jelly beans. I really wanted to get a glimpse of the real Logan. He was very polished on the outside, giving the image of a carefree young doctor, but it’s a totally fake persona. I could see the frayed edges, and the fine lines of imperfection left by years of emotional trauma. Maybe no one else noticed because he was so adept at covering them up, or just kept everyone at a safe distance. But I saw them for what they were, scars from a damaged past. Life had left me with my own set of damage and scars, but I knew where mine came from. A life lost. What had earned him
the battle wounds he so expertly hid from the world?
"I play the guitar," he answered.
I hadn’t expected that one. I half expected him to pass on the question.
"How long have you played?" I asked, watching him as he stared out the window at the trees that lined the property.
"Since I was fourteen. My father believed every child should play an instrument so I was put in violin lessons when I was ten with a top notch instructor. I was terrible," he paused while I held my breath, afraid any movement might stop him from continuing.
"To avoid further embarrassment, my father ended my lessons and hired a tutor to teach me piano, which I did marginally better at. At least, enough to satisfy my father’s requirement. Around the age of fourteen, thinking it would up my cool points at school, I asked if I could learn to play the guitar. You would have thought I'd asked if I could visit Satan in Hell. Obviously, his answer was no, and because I had asked, he figured I got the crazy idea from a bad influence at school. So, I was pulled out mid-year and switched to a new boarding school in a new state," he sighed, obviously still annoyed as he relived the memory.
“Your dad pulled you out of school because you asked to play the guitar?” I thought my dad was strict when he didn’t let me date until I was fifteen. I had nothing on Logan.
"Yes. My father’s unique.” He didn’t elaborate. Apparently the “Daddy file” was closed for the day.
“My new roommate Colin, who is still my best friend to this day, taught me to play that first year I was at Milton. He was probably the reason I survived." A ghost of a smile appeared across his face, and then chuckled.