by Tara Brent
“Hi, Logan,” she says, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. I want to reach out and touch her hands, but I behave myself, leaning against the counter.
“Did you get my flowers?” I ask.
“I did. They’re over there.” She points to the vase. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” I say, waving it off. “Honestly, it’s my way of thanking you for your help at the grocery store. Grandma really loved the arrangement. More than she let on last week.”
“I’m glad she did. She deserves even more if you ask me.”
“I agree,” I chuckle. “I...I wanted to ask if you were free to talk sometime. I don’t want to keep you occupied while you’re on the clock, but I do want to talk to you later. It’s kind of important.”
Worry crosses her face, and she says, "Of course. We can talk after work if that's okay with you?"
“That would be perfect.”
Watching that relieved expression appear takes me back to when we were kids. Out of the three of us, Amber was always the more responsible one. Rhett and I were two reckless boys constantly on the brink of making one mistake that we couldn’t come back from, and every time, Amber would keep us from going over the edge.
Literally.
Back when I was more involved in exercising outdoors, Rhett, Amber, and I would go biking every morning. It was never that serious, mostly just something to do to wake us up instead of drinking coffee. This one particular morning, Rhett woke up pretty combative. It wasn’t unusual considering he was a competitive guy, but this time, he was out for blood.
He bet that he could pedal faster than me, and I took him up on his offer. There we were, two twenty-three-year-olds with nothing to lose, speeding around the bike trail. It was neck and neck, and because we were both so focused on beating the other, we didn’t notice the end of the trail rapidly approaching. If it hadn’t been for Amber screaming at us to stop, we both would’ve pedaled right over the edge of the cliff, probably tumbling to our deaths.
She was on the verge of tears by the time we stopped and when I turned around, I saw that very same relieved look. Her eyebrows went down, and she held a hand over her heart like Grandma always did.
Thinking about the old days makes my stomach twist with emotions I don’t want to brood. So instead, I stand up straighter and look at Amber.
“You look nice today.” It’s uncouth, and there’s no real segue into it, but I can’t keep myself from telling her this. She looks stunning, her hair pulled up into a messy bun and her lipstick subtle but noticeable, if I look long enough. She’s wearing the cutest pink sundress. Just looking at her brightens my day. I feel like a complete fucking sap, but Amber’s always had that effect on me.
“Oh,” she blushes. “Thank you. You look nice too. That suit, uh... suits you.”
I crack a smile at her joke. When I start to say something, she cuts me off to say,
“Actually, I was just about to go grab a sandwich from around the corner. Would you want to come with me and we can talk?”
“Sure.”
I follow Amber out the front door, and together, we walk down the sidewalk. My hand brushes against hers, and like an electric current crackling nearby, every hair on my arm stands at attention. It’s been so long since she’s touched me, and there’s an ache deep in my chest for her to do it right this very moment.
“So,” she says softly, lacing her fingers together as she walks. “What did you want to talk about?”
“It’s kind of sudden, but I was hoping you might be free tomorrow night? I have reservations at this restaurant, but I didn’t want to go alone. There’s a lot of things I think we should talk about, and you know how I am about letting things hang in the air.”
She laughs. “Yes, I do. You’d rather get it all out there immediately instead of letting it simmer. That’s why you’re so bad at baking. At least, that’s what Grace told me.”
“Remind me to have a stern talk with her about exposing all my flaws,” I say, shaking my head. Grandma loves to embarrass me, even when I’m hundreds of miles away.
“About the reservations, I don’t know, Logan. I think we should talk, but it’s kind of... I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
She bites her bottom lip like she’s trying to form the right words and make sense of everything going around in her head. “It’s kind of complicated, Logan. You left so suddenly and I’m scared that—that if I let you in again, you’re just going to do the same thing. Plus, things are different now. You have Dustin. You have a family. It’s all so much.”
I can tell that she doesn’t want to say how she’s really feeling, so I try not to let her hesitation hurt too much.
“Look, I know you’re probably pissed at me, and I deserve it. I deserve it for everything I did. I shouldn't have left. I should've stayed here and worked things out like an adult. I was confused and upset, and the only thing that made sense to me at the time was to disappear. Get away from the world and just work on myself” I tell her.
"It’s just me and Dustin now as it didn't work out with his mother. So, there's no harm in having dinner with me. You don't owe me anything, Amber, but all I'm asking is for the chance to make it up to you. Besides Grandma, you're the only family I have left. You're the only person I truly care about. And I don't want to live here without you being my friend. It's just dinner. We'll eat, drink, and I'll drop you off as soon as you want to leave. The power's in your hands." I plead.
I hope Amber understands why this is such a big deal to me. In any other circumstance, I wouldn’t be here begging. I’d be taking charge, sweeping her off her feet. But I need her to trust me and understand that while I know I fucked up, I’m not comfortable sitting around and not making amends.
We walk in silence, the only noise being the sound of our shoes on the pavement. Finally, Amber meets my eyes, staring at me for a long time.
“Don’t make me regret this, Logan.”
Its insane how one sentence can make me feel like I’m over the moon. This is what I’ve wanted since I got back. She’s giving me a chance to show her I’m not just the guy that was intimate with her and left the very next week. I’m not an asshole that broke her heart when she was in college. I care about her, like family, and I want her to see that I’m willing to do what it takes to make her trust me again.
“I promise you, Amber, you’re not going to regret this.”
When she smiles at me, I feel warm all over again.
Chapter 7: Amber
It’s weird how things work out. Just two weeks ago, my biggest concern was worrying about bills and trying not to get too depressed over my favorite character dying in the series I was watching. I was always thinking of going on a ‘diet’ but never quite got around to it. Then I would be upset with myself for not following through.
.Now, though, I’m worried about a completely different set of things. Namely, Logan. Seeing Dustin there that day made me feel a level of jealousy I never thought I could experience. Pathetically, at my lowest, I’d imagined all the things we might do if Logan were to return. I was hopelessly romantic. Still a virgin and waiting for Mr. Right.
It was embarrassing but understandable. And when I saw Dustin, I flashed back to those mental images I'd conjured after Rhett died. Me and Logan starting a family (after he returned to town and came begging on his knees, of course). The names of our kids. The way he'd look at me, just like he did that fateful night, only this time it would never go away. He'd look at me and stay forever.
But reality eventually set in and I realized Logan was never coming back. There was no use in waiting and praying that he might return because he'd made it abundantly clear that wherever he was, it was more important than what we had. So, I sucked it up and moved on.
Now that he’s back, things are murky again. I want to forgive him, but I’m not sure if I have the strength to. There aren’t words to describe the sting of finding out that he
left town, only the sickening, stomach-churning physical reaction I have every time I remember that heartbreak. He cut me deeper than anyone else ever has.
But shouldn’t it count for something that he’s making amends and trying to approach this in a mature manner? I put myself in his shoes, and I can kind of understand, why he would do something like that
Not only did he lose Rhett, but in his mind, he crossed the line with me. We did something that we both knew Rhett would be upset about. The guilt probably ate away at him, tearing him up the way it did me as well.
When I think about it like that, I can’t help but have a bit of sympathy for him. Grace would tell me I’m too nice, but I do feel bad for him. It’s in my DNA to care about others. That’s why I haven’t backed out of the date. I had all night to think about it, and though my protective instincts told me this would only lead to more heartbreak and painful memories, I haven’t called and canceled. In fact, I’ve done quite the opposite.
“This looks cute, right?” Rosie asks, stepping out of the bathroom in a simple black dress with a diamond cut-out on the bust. Its risqué, but it looks like something appropriate for such a high-end date.
“That looks stunning, are you kidding me?” I ask. Rosie has the perfect chest for that kind of dress, and I’m immediately jealous of her. For a long time, being around her made me question whether I should lose weight. But when I admitted that to her, Rosie gave me a stern talking to, telling me I was perfect the way I was, and any man that couldn’t handle all of me wasn’t a man worth paying attention to.
“Okay, good,” she says, wiping an imaginary bead of sweat off her forehead. “This is the fourth dress I’ve tried on and I don’t want to take it off again.”
“At least, not until the date is over,” I say, waggling my eyebrows. Rosie laughs incredulously and playfully swats at my shoulder.
It's good to be with her outside of the shop. Sometimes I forget that we're friends because, for most of the day, we're business partners, but now, getting dressed up together for our dates, it's exactly what I need to be assured.
“What are you gonna wear?” she asks, taking a seat on the bed and shuffling through her makeup bag.
I glance at my pitiful closet and shrug.
"I don't know yet. I thought I'd figure it out by the time I got done with my makeup, but now... Everything is ugly. Nothing says, ‘I am expensive and worth every damn dollar,' ya know?"
“Hm... let’s see.”
She rises and starts surveying my closet, shuffling through various dresses I have hanging on the rack. She pulls out a pastel pink one and turns around, smiling.
"What about this one? It's kind of chilly so you can wear that white fur coat you have? Plus, it goes with that light makeup you have on right now."
I envision the outfit in my head, and I love it.
“That sounds amazing. Why don’t you dress me every morning?”
“Oh please,” she scoffs, placing the dress on the bed and hurrying off to the find the coat next.
“This was just a moment of brilliance. I went through three other dresses until I found this one. Fashion designer I am not.”
“You totally could if you wanted to, though. Like how you’re so good with hair.”
Rosie is great with hair, along with everything else. I like to think that in another life, she was a hairdresser in LA or New York. She’s killer with a set of sheers.
“It’s so hard being so talented,” Rosie teases, putting her hand on her forehead like some kind of overacting movie star.
I burst out laughing, and soon we’re both in a giggling fit. I know she’s joking, but I think there’s a bit of truth to it. Rosie talks a lot about how she’s not entirely satisfied with the flower shop. She mostly keeps it running because her mother gave it to her. It’s her legacy, in a way.
I can relate to that. When my parents were alive, I tried to do everything in my power to be exactly what they wanted. Turns out, when you live for someone else, you start to realize you have nothing to call your own.
After we catch our breath, I head into the bathroom to change into the dress Rosie picked out. It fits me snug, hugging all the right places, and I smile at my reflection. Once I do something about this hair, I’ll be ready to go. And just on time because we only have thirty minutes until Logan is supposed to show up.
Once Rosie is done with her makeup, she helps curl and style my blonde hair so it falls in ringlets around my face. By the time she’s done, I look like the full package. Rosie checks her phone and smiles at me giddily.
“He’s here. I gotta get going. Good luck on your date, babe.” With a kiss on the cheek and a quick hug, Rosie heads outside and climbs into Peter’s car. I watch from the window, smiling when he opens the door for her. From what I’ve seen so far, he’s a gentleman. That’s exactly what Rosie deserves.
Now that I’m alone, I take a seat on the sofa and try to keep from freaking out. Am I making a mistake by agreeing to this? Logan has proven before that he can easily disappear out of my life. I worry if I open my arms and accept a friendship with him again, will it end, just as badly as it had five years ago?
The anxious side of me takes over, and I have to close my eyes and calm down. I've always been worried about things like this. Risks and danger, which is exactly what talking to Logan again is. It's dangerous to turn the other cheek because that only exposes me to another opportunity for pain. It's risky letting him in again after everything that happened before.
I should call this all off and go back to my oblivious life not knowing he’s in town. I can pretend I never ran into him at the grocery store and just complain to Grace and Rosie, that there are no good guys in Mayberry
But there’s a pang in my chest at the thought of having someone close again. Someone that understands me more than anyone else in the world does. Logan knows me. We grew up together. We went through good times and bad together. We went through Rhett’s death together, and we made it out on the other side. He understands the same kind of loss that I do, and there’s a kind of kinship in that. It’s a secret pain we share, one that nobody else could even begin to understand.
Reminding myself of this calms me down and keeps my hopes from shattering completely. We’re not doing anything serious, after all. This is just dinner. We’ll talk about what happened, see if we can mend the past, and pick up on our friendship like the past five years never happened.
There’s a knock at the door, and the sound sends my stomach plummeting. Logan’s here.
I rise from the sofa and head to the door, pulling it open and revealing the man behind it. Logan’s dressed as sharp as I’ve ever seen him, in a black suit tailored to perfection. He even has on a light blue tie and silver cuff-links.
“You look beautiful,” he says, blinking in surprise. Embarrassed, I glance down at the dress and coat I have on.
“Yeah, right,” I say.
"No, seriously. You look beautiful tonight, Amber." His voice sounds far away like he's lost in another dimension. The compliment makes me blush, and I bite down on my bottom lip. It's been a long while since anyone's ever said I look beautiful. "Here, let me help you down."
Logan takes my hand and walks me down the steps on the porch, guiding me to a car parked on the street. To my surprise, he doesn’t open the passenger’s door. Instead, he opens the backdoor. When I climb inside, there’s a driver up front.
This is all quite a bit to process. Logan's family was always well-off, but growing up, it was like he resented the money his parents had because he never showed it off or flaunted it. He lived like Rhett and me, upper-middle-class. It's interesting to see how much he's changed since we last spoke.
Once we’re settled in and the driver pulls away from the curb, I turn to him. “So, where are we going?”
A mischievous smile tugs at his full lips. “I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
"It wouldn't be a surprise if you knew where we were going," he says li
ke it's the simplest thing in the world to understand. I cross my arms and pretend to pout, but the fact that he's making this so mysterious is actually quite fun. Over time, I've forgotten how in control Logan likes to be with everything.
“Fine,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. “But if I don’t like the surprise, I’m not going to pretend like I do.”
Logan chuckles deeply and says, “I wouldn’t expect anything else from you, Amber.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”
“Just that you’ve always spoken your mind,” he shrugs. “That’s one of my favorite qualities about you. Even when we were kids and it was annoying hearing you complain about everything we did.”
I can’t lie; I did always criticize him and Rhett. Probably because I wanted to be cool like them and they only treated me like a kid. “Well,” I say, “It’s not my fault you guys always acted like idiots. Someone had to be the responsible one.”
“God.” Logan shakes his head and stares at me intensely. “You haven’t changed in the slightest, and I’m so happy.”
I smirk at him confidently, lifting my chin proudly. “Nope. That’s why you adore me.”
Chapter 8: Logan
"So, you're seriously not going to give me any hints?" Amber says like she can't believe I have the nerve to keep the restaurant a secret.
“No,” I laugh. “You can ask all you want, but we’re almost there, so you’re just wasting your time!”
“You’re so annoying,” Amber grumbles, and though she sounds annoyed, I can see it on her face she wants to laugh. Her impatience is one thing I’ve always loved about her. She’s cautious most of the time, but there are moments where she’s reckless and demands everything right then and there. She doesn’t want to test the waters, she wants to jump in head-first and experience the rush without hesitation.