Lip Smacker

by Bailey, Alison G.

  Logan: Hey, Slugger, is it weird that I’m thinking about how hot you looked this morning while in my boring meeting?

  Logan: Did I mention how turned on I am right now? Just the thought of you underneath me is driving me crazy.

  Logan: I can’t wait to see you tonight.

  Logan: Just so you know, I’m not one of those guys who has to text his girl every hour. At least, I never have been.

  Logan: Is everything okay? Shoot me a quick text letting me know you’re okay. I’m worried.

  Then I did something even more insane. I picked up my phone and almost called him. I just wanted to hear his deep husky and soothing voice one more time. Luckily, I had enough sense not to go through with the call. Having no other options to occupy my time, I attempted to go to sleep. I tossed and turned most of the night. Finally, I drifted off at some point because the next thing I remember was my alarm going off.

  I walked through my daily routine of getting ready for work like a zombie. Maybe zombie was too dramatic. Fuck it. I was a zombie. For the first time in several days there was no anticipation or excitement that Logan would drop by the bakery. Even when he was trying to get me to sell, I still enjoyed him coming by, or texting, or showing up announced.

  I didn’t realize how blah my life was before him. I thought I was happy and I was happy. Wasn’t I? Sure, I worried about the bakery and Wavy, but everyone has worries. Logan brought something into my life that I didn’t realize I needed. It was as if my life had been tinted in muted colors, but when Logan showed up, my life burst into Technicolor Starbursts. I missed tasting the rainbow.

  I got to the bakery and went about baking and getting the display case filled. Wavy wasn’t coming in today. She needed a few days to rest and get her land legs back. After serving a few costumers in the morning, I kept busy doing paperwork. Leaning an elbow on the front counter while I filled out the monthly tax form, the bell above the door jingled. Before looking up, I gathered the papers in a pile and pushed them to the side. My gaze lifted to find Mr. Abrams scanning the menu board.

  “Hmmm…no cinnamon rolls today?” he croaked.

  “Mr. Abrams, today is your lucky day.” I disappeared into the kitchen for a few seconds, returning with a hot cinnamon roll that I had baked last night. I placed the object of Mr. Abrams’ desire on the counter and forced a smile. “Here ya go. One homemade fresh hot cinnamon roll.”

  The rotund gentleman shuffled over to the counter. Sliding his glasses down his nose, he inspected the roll.

  “That’s not a cinnamon roll,” he said.

  “What are you talking about? It’s a cinnamon roll.”

  “It’s too big and lopsided. I like the smaller ones that come out of the can. Give me a hot cup of water and a carrot cake cupcake.”

  “Listen here, ‘ol man, every day for the past two months you’ve waddled in here asking for a cinnamon roll. And every day for the past two months I tell you this is a cupcake bakery and we don’t sell cinnamon rolls. Last night, out of the kindness of my breaking heart, I don’t bake something I like. No-o-o. I bake cinnamon rolls. And now you’re telling me that my homemade-with-the-freshest-ingredients cinnamon rolls aren’t good enough? That you prefer the manufactured, chemical laden, cardboard, comes-in-a-can fucking cinnamon rolls?”

  “Yeah.”

  I stared at him in disbelief for a second then said, “Go sit down while I get your order.”

  I got Mr. Abrams his order and sat it in front of him. While he dunked his teabag into the steaming water, I grabbed the cinnamon roll and placed it on the table.

  “I told you, I didn’t want that monstrosity.”

  “It’s not for you, it’s for me,” I said, sitting down in the chair across from him.

  “I thought you didn’t like cinnamon rolls.”

  “They’re not my favorite.” I tore off a piece and popped in my mouth.

  “You should try the canned ones. Those are the best.” He took a big bite of his cupcake. “Where’s your grandmother?”

  “Home resting from her trip.”

  He chuckled, lifting his cup. “We did cut a rug each night.”

  My brows furrowed. “What did you say?”

  His face went slack. For a brief moment I thought he was having a stroke, but he was still upright and holding the cup.

  “Uh, I gotta go. I just remembered I have a doctor’s appointment.”

  I gently but firmly grabbed his wrist. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what shenanigans you and my grandmother are up to.”

  “Don’t make it sound so tawdry. We enjoy each other’s company.”

  “Since when?”

  “I don’t know. A month or so.”

  “But every time you speak to her, she rolls her eyes at you.”

  “She’s being coquettish. I like it when she plays hard to get.”

  “Why didn’t she tell me you went on the cruise?”

  “Because your grandmother and I are from a generation that doesn’t blast their business all over God’s creation.” He pointed his boney index finger at me. “Young lady, don’t you dare tell your grandmother that you know about the two of us. It would embarrass her to no end. And I will not have it. That woman is a gem.”

  I couldn’t help the smile from crossing my face. Although I was shocked, it was sweet how protective Mr. Abrams was of Wavy.

  “Your secret is safe with me,” I told him.

  “Good.”

  He pushed away from the table and stood.

  I caught Mr. Abrams’ gaze. “Thank you for making Wavy happy.”

  He grumbled something incoherent and walked toward the door.

  Halfway across the room, he yelled, “Put it on my tab.”

  I tore off another piece of roll as the bells jingled, indicating Mr. Abrams’ departure. I popped the piece in my mouth and chewed while cleaning up the table. Realizing that I really did like cinnamon rolls, I shoved the half eaten portion in my mouth, picked up the trash from the table, and stood. My gaze floated up to discover a pair of bright blue eyes staring at me.

  WITH MY HEART LODGED in my throat and the doughy baked good between my lips, I mumbled, “How may I help you?”

  Admittedly, it was a stupid thing to say.

  “I didn’t press you yesterday, because you looked like you’d had a rough day.”

  I spit the roll out onto the plate I was holding. “Sweet talk will get you everywhere.”

  “Why are you avoiding me?”

  I blew out a long breath, stalling for time to think of an excuse that wouldn’t make me cry.

  “Life. You know how it goes. You get busy,” I said.

  “I’m not playing twenty fucking questions with you, Lip.”

  “I kindly ask you to reframe from using foul language in my business establishment.”

  He scanned the shop. “There’s nobody here.”

  “Still, it’s a hard and fast rule I follow.”

  “Is that a reference to our overnight fuck fest?”

  “Crude.”

  “You’re the one who said we’re just two people who fucked.”

  “I did say that.”

  “Something’s changed since I kissed you goodbye yesterday morning and I want to know what it is.”

  I forced my eyes to land anywhere except on him. “I can’t do this right now, Logan.”

  “I’ve wracked my brain going over every minute we’ve spent together trying to remember every word that was said. For the life of me, Lip, I can’t come up with one reason for you to end this…to end us.”

  My heart was pounding hard against my chest. “It’s just a bad time for me right now. I can’t afford to have any distractions.”

  “That’s what you think of me? A distraction?”

  “Not in a bad way. It’s just…I don’t know what you want me to say.” I played with the hem of my shirt.

  He stepped into my space. “I want you to tell me the truth, Goddammit!”

  “Wavy
’s dying! There! Happy?!”

  I whipped around and stormed into the kitchen with Logan following close behind. I leaned against the counter with my face buried in my hands. I sensed Logan in front of me.

  “Lip, I…” He wrapped his strong arms around me and pulled me into his chest.

  The simple gesture allowed me to let go of all the pain I was feeling from losing Wavy and pushing Logan to the side. I sobbed into his chest, soaking his shirt with my tears. He didn’t seem to mind one bit, though. Logan didn’t say anything. He simply let me cry until I was all cried out. When I was done, he waited until I lifted my head and took a step out of his arms.

  God knows how I looked. My eyes and nose felt raw and the rest of my body was numb.

  “Wavy has always been there for me. When the kids in school teased me about my name, she said it was because they were jealous. That my name was unique and special, like me. She shared her love of baking with me. She used to say, sharing what you love to do with someone shows them how much you love them. She always believed opening this bakery was within my reach. And when my parents died, she stayed strong for me even while going through her own unimaginable heartache. Wavy is my priority. I don’t have time for us, and no matter how much it hurts, it’s not fair for me to ask you to wait.”

  “I understand how much you and your grandmother mean to each other. It’s impossible not to feel the love between the two of you. But it doesn’t have to be either or. While you take care of Wavy, let me take care of you.”

  “It’s too much to ask. Maybe if we’d been together for a while, but, Logan, it’s only been—”

  “You’re not asking me. I’m offering. I don’t give a fuck how long you and I have known each other. All I know is today when you walked away from me, it felt like a punch in the gut.”

  “But Logan—”

  Placing his hands on either side of my face, he aimed his steely blue gaze at me. “You light up my world, Lip. We’re connected. I know you feel it. I want to be here for you through the good times and the bad. I want to hold your hand, wrap you in my arms, and kiss you every day. I want to be the one for you. Please, let me be the one for you.”

  Just when I thought I had no more tears to shed, they poured down my cheeks hearing Logan’s beautiful words.

  “Why the tears?” Logan said.

  “Because you’re incredible and you’re not leaving me.”

  “I’m here for as long as you’ll let me stay.”

  I hurled myself into Logan’s arms. Lucky for me, he still had the eye and reflexes of an athlete. He caught me effortlessly. I wrapped my legs around his waist and held on. Lifting my head I looked at him with awe and love.

  Pressing my lips to his, I whispered, “Logan…”

  I hesitated, not wanting to scare him or have him think I was just caught up in the moment.

  “I know. I love you too, Slugger.”

  I couldn’t believe the turn of events. Deep down, I was right about this man. I saw his heart all those years ago with a simple act of kindness. A kindness that he still holds in his heart.

  I felt like I was living a double life. One part had my heart soaring. With Logan I felt as if I was floating on air. The other part had my heart breaking.

  Wavy’s initial plan was to take off the week after she got home from the cruise and get back into the swing of things. Her first day back at the bakery I could tell something wasn’t right. She had been more than a little tired right after her trip, but that was to be expected, what with being out of her normal routine. By the stories she told, Wavy and the ladies had thrown their daily routines out the window.

  She hated when I became a helicopter granddaughter, so I didn’t make much of a fuss about it or her lack of appetite.

  I was walking into the kitchen when I found her sitting at the counter on one of the stools. Her face was flushed and she was hunched over.

  I quickly moved to her side. “Wavy, are you okay? Do you hurt anywhere? Can I get you some water?”

  She waved her hand to shut me up. “I’m fine. I just got a little winded is all. I’ll be good as new in a few minutes.”

  I pulled my cellphone from my back pocket. “I’m going to call your doctor and take you in.”

  “There’s no reason for that.”

  “You’re out of breath and pale. I’d say those are two very good reasons.”

  “Elipheleta, I said no.”

  Wavy shot me her stern face. From the time I was old enough to understand right from wrong, I knew what that face meant. Wavy wasn’t kidding around. How was it that even as a grown adult that one look from my grandmother catapulted me back to eight years old?

  Begrudgingly, I put my phone down. “Is anything hurting you?”

  “Not really. I’m just tired.”

  “Then I’m going to close the shop, so I can take you home and get you settled.”

  “Just let me catch my breath.”

  “You obviously need some rest. Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

  “Don’t coddle me, Elipheleta.”

  The sharp look she had given me only moments ago turned into fear. Wavy had always been full of energy. She was a worker. A doer. She wasn’t into relaxing and being waited on. She and I had been fooling ourselves since she’d returned from the cruise. Being tired from a trip was one thing, but Wavy was experiencing more than the average recouping period. She knew that this was only going to get worse.

  The bakery gave her a purpose in life. She was contributing to the world in some way. Whether it was helping me with running the business or putting a smile on the customers’ faces, Wavy had a reason to get up every morning. The momentary rest period was a signal that things were starting to change. I knew my grandmother well enough to know she wasn’t afraid of death. She was afraid of losing her independence.

  “I won’t call the doctor this time, but if it happens again I will,” I said pointedly, so she knew I meant business.

  “Young lady, I may be old and ill, but I’m still your elder. I would advise you not to take that tone with me again.”

  She was feeling better.

  “Yes, ma’am.” I turned my face away, so she wouldn’t see me smile.

  “Seriously, you’ve never played Sorry?” I said shocked.

  “Why is that so hard to believe?”

  “Not even as a kid?”

  “I was busy doing other things like football, basketball, track and field.”

  Raising my hand, I stopped Logan from reciting his entire sports resume.

  “We all get it, Logan. You were a jock,” I teased.

  “Besides, guys aren’t that into board games like chicks.” He winked.

  “Not manly enough?” Wavy chimed in. “Leon never liked to play games except for cards. He thought cards were a man’s game.”

  “I think I would have gotten along with Leon just fine.”

  My grandmother gave Logan a sweet smile. “I think he would have liked you.”

  It was Sunday afternoon. We were at Wavy’s sitting around the dining room table playing games. We’d already played several rounds of Trouble and now it was time to expand Logan’s horizons with a game of Sorry.

  When I was a kid, my parents and I would have dinner over here every Sunday after church. That was back in the day when folks still had Sunday dinner in the middle of the day. While Dad and Pop watched football on TV, Mom, Wavy, and I would break out the board games. After Mom and Dad passed, Wavy just stopped doing the dinners. Sure, her, Pop, and I would eat together, but it was usually takeout.

  Wavy used to love having those dinners. It was time for the family to slow down, relax, and share what the south was about. Good food and family. It had been a couple of weeks since her spell at the bakery, which was also the last time she was there. The doctor upped her pain medicine, causing her to tire out quickly. Some days it took all the strength she had to get out of bed. At first, she forced herself to get up, but in the last few days it had becom
e too much for her.

  I never thought I would find someone I loved as much as my parents loved each other and my grandparents loved each other, but I had. Logan has been fantastic during this time. In order for me to spend as much time as I could with Wavy, he took some vacation time from the law practice and filled in for me at the bakery. Between myself, Logan, Pearl, Mozelle, and even Mr. Abrams, Wavy was never alone. She and I never discussed her little side-action beau. We didn’t need to.

  I had been trying to bring to life some family traditions from the past and recreate them for her. Today I reluctantly and clumsily tried to cook one of Wavy’s specialties, ham, red rice, sweet potato casserole, butterbeans, and rolls. I hated cooking, but I loved my grandmother more. I enlisted Logan to help. We were reasonably intelligent adults. I figured between the two of us there was a chance we could bring something edible to the table. It wouldn’t be as good as when Wavy fixed it, but I wanted to give it a shot, hoping sweet memories would come to the surface for my grandmother.

  Even though the sweet potato casserole was a little crispy on top and the red rice not as flakey as it should have been, the dinner turned out reasonably well. Wavy’s praise was a bit over the top. We both knew my lame attempt at cooking couldn’t hold a candles to hers, but I could see in her eyes she was proud of my effort.

  “Now, when your piece lands on one of these spots,” Wavy explained to Logan. “You get to slide to the end of the line.”

  “Okay. I think I’ve got it,” Logan said with confidence.

  “Wait just a second, young man. You didn’t let me finish.”

  Logan’s cheeks flushed. “Sorry.”

  “So when your piece lands on the spot where you can slide, you have to say, sli-i-i-i-i-ide, while you’re sliding your piece to the end of the line.”

  “Say slide while sliding to the end of the line. Got it.”

  Wavy shook her head dismissively. “Not slide. It’s sli-i-i-i-ide.”

  Logan’s confused gaze swung to me then back to Wavy.