I look down at the four pieces of wood, imagining what it would look like with walls. I step over one of the planks, standing in the middle. I spin in a circle and stop in front of Logan. A small smile ghosts his lips.
I shrug. “Seems big enough to me.”
“Good.” Logan nods once then bends over to pick up another plank of wood. I step out of the square and sit in one of the patio chairs. I lift my feet and rest them on the edge of the seat, pressing my knees to my chest, watching Logan as he works.
He grabs a nail and holds it against the wood, lifting his hammer in the air. He stops and glances over his shoulder.
“How was your meeting with Abby?”
“It was okay,” I mutter. I rest my chin on my knee, feeling my eyes growing heavier against the midday sun.
“Did you talk to her about last night?”
I wait to answer him until he finishes putting in the first nail. His knees are bent, resting on the grass. He scoots over, starting in on the next corner.
“We talked about it.” I sigh. “I don’t know, Logan. She acted as if she had no clue what telling that story might do to me.”
He looks up, resting his arm on his best knee. “Really?”
I shake my head and rest it on my knee, staring at him sideways. “I don’t understand. We used to be so close. We were there for each other all through college. She let me stay with her when you were in the hospital. I just feel like we’re on two different wavelengths.” I close my eyes, letting the warm sun soak into my skin. “I'm probably not making any sense.”
Logan hammers in another nail, the sound of metal meeting wood piercing my ears. “No, it makes perfect sense,” he says. “It just means you’ve both changed. A lot has happened this past year. I don’t think any of us are the same.”
I open my eyes as Logan lifts the bottom of his shirt, wiping the film of sweat from his forehead. Stray pieces of hair fall from his low bun, framing his face. He pushes them back and continues working.
“I guess you’re right.” I sit up in my chair, taking my empty coffee with me. “I think I’m going to go lay down. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Logan stops, resting one hand on his waist, the other still holding the hammer. Dropping the hammer, he crosses the yard and stops in front of me. His scent invades my space, drawing me in. He smells like a delicious combination of sweat, wood, and orange Tic Tacs.
His chest rises and falls, heavy breaths escaping between his lips. “I know I asked about Abby, but are we okay?”
I search his eyes. I want to know we’re okay. But as I stare into the eyes of the man I love, I can’t help but feel the twisting ache in my chest, reminding me of the secrets I’m keeping from him.
I lean forward and place a kiss on his lips. His lips are warm and taste sweet. He wraps his arm around me, pulling me closer. He lifts his hand, running his fingers through my hair. I pull back slightly, pressing my forehead to his. “We’re okay,” I whisper.
It’s the only two words I feel are true. We’re okay and that was good for now. I could figure out the rest later.
I leave Logan out in the back yard and crawl under the sheets of my bed, letting sleep overtake me. My body is heavy, pressing into the mattress. Within seconds I fall asleep.
My eyes crack open to the sound of running water coming from the bathroom in our room. I pick up my phone and look at the time. I’d slept for two hours. Despite, how quick my nap was, my body felt lighter and my eyes more open. The pressure that was once buried behind them had dissolved.
There’s a vibration coming from beside me on Logan’s side of the bed. It happens two more times by the time I find the source of where it’s coming from. I push aside the blanket, finding Logan’s phone buried underneath it. A text message box pops up on the top of the screen.
Natalie: Just pulled into the market. See you in a few!
My throat swells as Natalie’s text stares me right in the face. There’s an ache swelling inside me, threatening to break me into pieces. I feel like my own trust in my husband has betrayed me. There was something I was missing. A connection I hadn’t quite yet made.
The water stops and I drop Logan’s phone back onto the bed. Within seconds he’s out of the bathroom and riffling through his dresser. He has a towel wrapped around his waist, displaying his sculpted abs. Water drops are dotted across his skin, his hair is soaked, trails of water running down his back. The beard he had earlier in the day is already gone, trimmed down to a short stubble lining his jaw.
I scoot back on the bed, resting against the headboard and rub the sleep from my eyes. I bite the inside of my cheek, not knowing how I’m going to be able to talk to Logan right now after reading the text I’d just read from Natalie.
“Oh, good, you’re up,” he says, still digging through his drawer.
“I really needed that nap.” I yawn, hoping it will give me a little more time to set my emotions aside long enough to speak to Logan.
“I got the basic frame set up for the shed.” His words sound rehearsed, flat and unfeeling. Was his motivation to rebuild the shed born out of guilt? Guilt for whatever is going on with Natalie.
After drying off, he steps into a clean set of boxer briefs followed by a pair of dark blue jeans.
“Where are you going?” I ask him. I lift my leg and rest my elbow on my knee, cradling my head in my hand, watching him as he dresses. He grabs a plain T-shirt and slides it on.
“Oh, uh, Max wanted me to run down to the market and place an order for a shipment of fish.” He sits on the edge of the bed and quickly slides his feet into his boots. He bends over and begins tying them.
“Is anyone going with you? I can give you some company and pick up a few things for the house,” I offer, thinking back to Natalie’s text.
I’m testing him, hoping he'll tell me the truth that he’s meeting Natalie there. I study the muscles of his back as they stretch under the fabric of his black T-shirt.
He glances over his shoulder then turns back to finish tying off his boots. “No, that’s okay. It’ll be easier if it’s just me. It has to be a quick trip anyway since I have to head straight to the restaurant after. I won’t have any time to stop.” He stands then darts his eyes around the room before they settle on the bed. He picks up his phone and looks at the screen. His mouth presses into a thin line before he slides it into his back pocket.
“Sure.” I swallow. “that makes sense.” I sit up, moving the blanket aside and walk straight to the bathroom. For no other reason than to hide my face from Logan. My chin quivers. Our marriage is a constant tipping of the scales. One day we’re balanced, the next, tipped to one side, the weight of our demons threatening to topple us over.
His heavy footsteps grow closer to the bathroom. Quickly, I turn on the shower and remove the long T-shirt and underwear I was wearing. The water is still warm from Logan’s shower, so I step inside immediately and close the glass door behind me.
Through the faded glass, I can see Logan standing in the doorway of the bathroom, resting his body against the doorframe. “I have to head out now.”
“Okay.” The water washes over my body and I stand underneath the stream, letting the water blend with the tears I already know are coming. Moving closer to the stream, I place my hands over my face, hoping Logan doesn’t notice my quivering voice.
He raps his knuckles against the wood frame. I’m silently praying he doesn’t come into the shower with me. I’m not sure I could handle facing him right now. My stomach twists with a sickness unlike any other I’ve felt. I love Logan and the thought of him having an affair would be devastating, a hurt I‘m not sure I could return from. “Well, I’ll be home late since I’m closing.”
I nod even though I know he can’t see me. I keep my hands pressed against my face, scrubbing them up and down my cheeks, hoping it’ll keep my tears at bay. “I know.”
“I’ll uh, text you when I get to work.”
I want to ask him why bother. I w
ant to tell him not to worry about it since I know he’ll be with Natalie. Instead, the words sit on my tongue, their bitter taste lingering in my mouth.
“Love you,” he says, his voice noticeably quieter.
I open my eyes and look at the glass door. The silhouette of Logan’s body is highlighted against the white light of the bathroom. I wipe my fingertip below my eyes, knowing they’re probably already red from the tears. I inhale a deep, exhausted breath. ”I Love you, too.”
He stands there for exactly thirty seconds before he finally leaves. I know this because I count, waiting until his silhouette has disappeared from behind the glass.
Twelve
Logan
I pull into the parking lot at the market, fuming from Natalie’s text. Why is she meeting me here?
Dodging groups of people crowded on the sidewalk, I type out a quick message to Max, asking him if he told Natalie she needed to go to the market before coming in to the restaurant for our first closing shift. When I get his reply telling me that he did in fact tell her I was going to be here, but he didn’t tell her she needed to be, I curse under my breath. Of course, Max didn’t need to invite her here, she did that all on her own.
The market is filled with hundreds of people. Vendors of all kinds line the walkways, selling everything from produce to fish to meats. Bright colored banners and signs line the hundreds of tables and displays. It’s an iconic place in Seattle and one chefs love coming to. It’s our playground. It’s also the same market where I met Max.
Natalie’s standing by a table selling cakes when I find her. She’s wearing a plain white T-shirt tucked into her blue jeans. She doesn’t look ready to work in less than an hour, when our shift is supposed to begin.
“Hey.” She waves excitedly, her long ponytail bouncing along with her arm.
“Hey, Natalie.” I sigh. I seriously don’t know how to handle what’s going on with her. Technically, she isn’t doing anything wrong. I can’t fault the woman for wanting to be involved with this aspect of the job. Max and I have built an excellent relationship with some of the fisherman who sell at the market. We get the best fish at reasonable prices. A deal hard to come by in Seattle.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, forcing myself to keep my opinions to myself. Maybe Natalie was just an overly friendly person. A woman who wanted to learn about her career as much as possible, snatching up every opportunity. In a sense, that’s what I have done ever since I started working in this business when I was sixteen.
She shrugs, clasping her hands in front of her. “I hope it’s okay that I came. Max said you’ve been getting the fish from the market and I wanted to see what it was like.”
I stare at Natalie, understanding where she’s coming from. If that truly is the reason she’s here. “Yeah, it’s okay that you’re here.” I point to her outfit. “You do plan on changing before we get to the restaurant, right?” I laugh, hoping to make this trip a little more fun.
“Oh.” She looks down then looks back up to me, smiling, a hint of laughter in her voice. “Of course. I forgot to wash the set I have at home. I keep a spare in my locker at work.”
“Good.” I nod once then tilt my head back toward the seafood. “Come on, I’ll show you how we place an order and the type of fish we usually get.”
I lead Natalie through the market to the back. The last tables are near the water’s edge. The scent of salt and sea water fills the air and I inhale a deep breath, loving the way it smells. The merchants are loud as they toss large fish to one another for show. It’s a common spectacle in the market and one that’s popular with the tourists, testing to see if someone can catch one without dropping it.
Natalie follows me as we stop in front of one of the counters. Manny, one of the local fishermen, is working today. He greets me with a large grin, already knowing what I’m here for.
After explaining all the fish to Natalie and introducing her to Manny, I realize it maybe wasn’t such a horrible idea for her to come. As a chef, it’s important to experience everything you can about different foods, even when it doesn’t involve actually cooking it.
I’m surprised as Natalie nods and hums every time I explain a certain fish to her or how we prepare it at the restaurant in various ways. Our menu is constantly changing so I try to give her ideas on how we could use other pieces in the future. She’s different today than she was the past several times I had trained her. She’s invested in the job.
After Manny and I set up the delivery that’s to be made tomorrow, Natalie and I begin our walk back to our cars.
We begin the small trek back as Natalie looks down at her feet. “Thank you for explaining it to me.” She smiles, looking up. “This place is pretty exciting.”
I shrug, feeling a hint of a smile on my lips. It was hard not to think about the way Lena and I left things at the house. It was a nice distraction to come here, giving myself time to concentrate on something other than my wife and I’s failed attempts at connecting lately. I walk a bit slower, enjoying the sounds of the market around me. “I never really thought about it but this place is pretty cool.”
Natalie laughs. “You never noticed?”
I shrug. “Not really.”
“You need to lighten up a little.” Natalie giggles again, bumping her shoulder into my arm. She points to a small smoothie cart near the entrance of the market. “Do you mind if we stop and grab one?”
I wince. “We really should get going. Max is waiting for us for the shift change.”
Natalie glances at her phone. “Come on, we still have ten minutes to spare before we have to leave.”
I roll my eyes and begrudgingly agree. “Fine.”
We’re third in line behind the cart and I try not to appear too impatient to get back to the restaurant. Natalie was right. We did have ten minutes to spare but Max was always strict when it came to being on time. I told Natalie that on her first day.
“Have you ever had a smoothie from here?”
I turn to Natalie. She’s standing beside me, studying the menu posted to the top of the cart. I follow her gaze and narrow my eyes, trying to read some of the options. “No, I haven’t.”
“Really?” Her eyebrows arch on her forehead.
“Yeah.” I shake my head, looking around. “Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever eaten anything from here.”
Natalie looks back at the menu, clasping her hands behind her back. “My parents never had much money when I was growing up.” Her mouth sets into a frown at the memory. “My dad was a mechanic and my mom was a waitress. They only had me to support but we still struggled. My mom usually cooked one meal to feed us for an entire week. After a while, it became monotonous. But at the end of every month when my dad’s paycheck would come in, he’d take me down to the Santa Monica Pier and treat me to one ride on the Ferris wheel and one ice cream for the ride home. All the toppings my little kid heart desired.” Her frown disappears, replaced by a smile. “I don’t know why I just thought of that now. Sorry.”
“That’s okay.” I laugh under my breath. “It’s nice to have memories like that. I have a few of my parents too. Only mine involved nosebleed seats to see a Bruins game.” I bite the side of my tongue, remembering I never told Natalie exactly where I was from on the east coast. Now I had just narrowed it down to the New England area. If Natalie catches on to my hint, knowing what team I had just mentioned, she doesn’t let on.
“I owe everything to my dad. He helped me get into culinary school and worked extra hours to pay for my tuition, despite knowing the odds of a woman making it big in a male dominated industry.”
“Right.” I nod, awkwardly looking down at my feet. What Natalie was saying was true. I hadn’t even gone to culinary school, making it to where I am based on years of working in the industry and a stroke of luck.
“I don’t think I’d ever go back there though.” She looks down at her feet, kicking a small pebble across the concrete.
“Why not?”
&nb
sp; “I haven’t spoken to my mom in years. In fact, I don’t even know where she is. My father moved to Colorado as soon as I moved out of the house. There’s nothing left for me there. Seattle is my new home.”
In a way, I relate to Natalie.
There was a part of me that still thought of Boston as my home. But now that Lena and I have built a new life here in Seattle, I don’t think I could ever find myself wanting to go back. Once you’re forced to leave your past behind you, the thought of going back is too painful. All your focus is on the future.
Finally, we move up to the counter, ready to order. I didn’t even look at the menu long enough to know what to order so I tell the woman working behind the cart that I’ll have the same smoothie Natalie ordered.
We’re waiting for our orders when an inexplicable feeling waves down the back of my neck. The loud buzzing of the blender drowns out the crowds of people around us. I turn to look around, wondering why I’m suddenly feeling uneasy. A sea of tourists pass us by, most dressed in sandals and T-shirts printed with large letters on the front, spelling ‘Seattle’. I don’t recognize anyone, scanning their faces frantically as each person passes. We’re lucky to be here on a weekday. The usual shoulder to shoulder crowd isn’t as large as it is on the weekends, gaps spaced out between several groups.
Seagulls fly overhead, cawing and circling, waiting for the perfect moment to swoop in and snatch up anyone’s unfortunate dropping of food.
The clouds above the seagulls begin to thicken, bringing a promise of a thunderstorm with them. Mixed with the salty ocean air is the familiar scent of rain. A smell I’ve come to know over the year since we moved here. I can’t explain it but chills run down my spine and goose bumps prickle the back of my neck.
The lady behind the counter hands us our smoothies and I immediately spin around, ready to walk back to my car. It feels wrong to be here with Natalie, sharing smoothies with her. It’s perfectly normal and innocent. I’m not doing anything wrong by being here with her but I somehow feel as if I’m being watched.
Mine: A Romantic Suspense Thriller (A Back to Me Series Book 2) Page 11